Tale of a Terrible Market Day

In the promotional world, it’s often that we gravitate to our biggest and best days. And I think that’s unrealistic. We all have bad days – in every day, in every occupation – and markets are certainly no different to that.

Where I have seen other stallholder’s write or talk about their worst days, it’s usually in a monetary sense. When I think about a terrible market day, it’s not a day in which I have had low or no sales. In fact, I couldn’t even tell you the sales I had on the days that come to mind. And I’m sure that regardless if I made $10 or $10,000 – this would still be considered a terrible market day.

Here’s why…

Before reading on: Please be aware that this blog post does describe a panic attack I had, which may be jarring to some. I would like to preface this blog by saying that I am alright, and I feel that experiences like this are important to read and write about. However, if at any point this is too triggering, I urge you not to read on.

Below are some helpful organisations which I encourage you to contact, should this blog post cause any distressing thoughts, emotions or reactions to arrive.

Beyond Blue: https://www.beyondblue.org.au/ | 1300 224 636

Lifeline: https://toolkit.lifeline.org.au/ | 13 11 14

Reach Out: https://au.reachout.com/

For urgent assistance: 000

With that in mind: on to the blog...

This terrible market day was at the One Tree Hill Country Market in November, 2023. Before you go bombarding and boycotting – it wasn’t the market itself at fault, but I feel this information helps to set the scene.

Jasper wasn't impressed that we took him to the vet.

October had been particularly stressful between one thing and another. With Jasper having a random seizure just days prior (he’s alright now – so no need to worry!), there was a lot on our plates and on our minds. We were juggling human and cat appointments, markets and orders – it was a lot to process and try to manage all while maintaining an appearance that everything is fine.

In the week leading up to the market, we weren’t sure if we would even be able to attend the market. Our resident crocheter – and our driver – was getting tests done to check for a broken leg. So immediately, there was a lot of tension and stress in working out how we could attend the market, if at all.

Fortunately enough, and the reason why this blog post even exists – we were able to attend! We had a plan to accommodate this new injury as well as the grassy slope that we would have to walk up and down during the set-up and pack down. And while I wasn’t entirely confident, I was willing to make it work and not let anyone down.

A picture from the morning. I didn't know how pear-shaped the day would get.

Come to the day, and it’s windy – but nothing we can’t handle. At least, we thought.

We arrived in the early hours of the morning, aware that the more time we had to set up meant the less stress for us. I left our resident crocheter up in our usual spot after we set up the gazebo and our regular stall neighbour – Jules’ Joules – arrived shortly afterwards.

We decided it was best that we unpack the cars, while leaving our injured attendee to rest up and manage the gazebos, which had both been secured with weights at this point. I walked down to the car and began to load up our trusty cart with our market equipment, completely unaware of the chaos that was occurring at the top of the hill.

When I returned, I found that an enormous gust of wind had picked our gazebos – weights and all – OFF of the ground and sent them a couple of metres back. Although injured, our resident crocheter instinctively grabbed the gazebos to keep them from moving any further (at the expense of her own knee). She had called out to us for assistance, but unfortunately the distance between us (and our heads in the cars) meant we hadn’t heard her.

Safe to say – set up was rough, and looking at the gazebo, one of the legs was a bit wonky, but we managed to fix it up for the day.

Our stall set up next to the wonderful, Jules' Joules!

The day was difficult. Trying to navigate through a flurry of worries was hard enough, and I felt a lot of guilt for the events of that morning. I found myself wondering if we should have even been there, after the chaos of the morning and the injuries that had been aggravated. My only consolation throughout the day was that we would soon be able to go home and rest.

But come to packing up – and the day seemed to go downhill even quicker than the morning had.

While packing up, a fly flew up my nose. Yep. You read that right. Out of nowhere – a fly flew up my nose. I blew my nose and the fly was gone – likely just as startled as I was – but the damage was done.

A fly flew up my nose. And just like that – all my composure, everything that I was holding together over the past month – came crashing out in one of the most devastating panic attacks I have ever experienced.

I burst into tears and my chest seized up. I remember a horrible pain across my ribs and crying out that I was in agony and couldn’t breathe. Even writing this, I can feel myself tearing up, because I remember how terrified I felt. I don’t recall what exactly was running through my mind, but I know I felt frightened, ashamed and couldn’t fully comprehend where this sudden pain in my ribs had come from.

Turns out – I just needed to breathe! It took a couple of minutes of crying and comprehending what had happened before I was able to regain my composure once again. And by this point, I was sore, exhausted and just wanting to go home, knowing full well we had a second market tomorrow.

But the day didn’t end there.

Another picture of our set up for the day.

While putting down the gazebo, we discovered the consequences of the morning’s eventful parachute attempt. And it came to be that the back leg of the gazebo had been jarred so much that it had bent, and we were unable to put down the gazebo without dissembling the piece completely.

And unfortunately for us – we didn’t have a screwdriver on hand. We had accidentally left it at home, with all of the renovations and furniture assembly we had been caught up with.

Thankfully, Matt at the local deli had a screwdriver we could borrow. But I will never forget the long walk there and back. I will never forget staring blankly when he asked me what kind of screwdriver I needed, and only having the energy to put my fingers into a ‘plus’ symbol. I’ll never forget the man who condescendingly pointed out I needed a Phillips head screw driver, unaware I was just trying to keep myself together without bursting into tears.

With the help of the said screwdriver, we disassembled our gazebo enough for us to be able to pack it away in the car. I didn’t know at the time that this broken gazebo would later become a part of my permanent craft room set up, thanks to my grandpa’s creative thinking. All I knew was that I needed a new one – and we had to get it before the market the following day.

In short, we did. We got a new gazebo. We survived the day; we survived the weekend. I survived the panic attack; I survived the fly.

This was a story I didn’t think I would ever tell. At the time, I felt stupid and pathetic for having a panic attack over a fly that flew into my nose. But as time has passed and the pain of the wound from that day has lessened, I realised that this was something worth writing about.

$10 or $10,000 - it was a bad day. It was a terrible market experiences, and one I feel comfortable writing about. It was a day that we spent fighting to keep a happy face on and to pretend like everything was fine, when in reality we were hurting and just trying to get by. That day was the climax of a month's worth of stress and disaster, and the fly really was the thing that brought me to my knees (it’s ok, you can laugh, I did).

Have you had bad market days? Can you relate to this experience? There’s no judgement here – we are all only human.

Kimberley (they/them)

Accessories by Antoinette