I’m through with Goodwills of the Willamette Valley. The prices are high, selection is usually poor, and they’re absolutely mobbed on weekends.

You occasionally might find good deals at the “bins” (as I’ve previously reported here), but for the most part it just feels like you’re standing around sifting through trash with a bunch of desperate-but-foolish people. I hate to feel like a snob, but watching welfare mothers dig through endless piles of random linens, rejected clothing and mountains of beyond-broken electronics is a little depressing. Don’t let the frantic digging lead you to believe there’s anything good in those piles– they’re largely crap. And I’m not just talking about the notable lack of suitably ironic hipster garb: I’ve spent a couple hours pulling apart garments and found little that even the poorest families would get excited about.

Regardless, they’re there, along with the scarily ragged rural homesteaders and car-dwelling vagabonds, trying to scrape bulk duds from the dregs of the Goodwill retail machine. As a new bin rolls out, people line up for the cart’s arrival, rabid with the promise of cheap treasures-by-the-pound. Elbows get sharp. Dirty looks abound. The cart arrives after its epic cross-store journey, the handler shouting “Get back! Wait until it’s stopped!” The shoppers froth at the mouth. Stopping the cart early would ensure that it never reach its destination– it’d be mobbed where it stood. People crane their necks as it rounds the corner, trying to get a jump on their neighbors’ as it rolls in. But it’s not full of NASCAR memorabilia or roto-tillers or pretty decent bridesmaids’ dresses (what do these people really want?). It’s bedding. Used bedding. Faded comforters. Mattress pads with suspicious yellow stains. The people take a few deflated stabs at the pile, hoping that perhaps there’s something else underneath– but no, it’s all frumpy bedskirts and loose stuffing. The dejected turn and drift elsewhere. Bystanders, aware of the hype but previously unable to get an arm in, swoop in and take their places at the big table of crap. The scene repeats every fifteen minutes.

The Goodwill Supercenter, though more of a traditional Goodwill, doesn’t offer much more. The prices are always about 20% higher than they should be. Completely unusable electronic items are the order of the day: SLR cameras missing film doors, food processors sans blades, walkie-talkies with broken antennas… Real landfill fodder. To make things worse, someone spilled the beans and told them they can charge way, way more for premium electronics brands like Harman/Kardon, Marantz or Panasonic, no matter how obsolete or non-functional the item is.

Digging through the LP bins is a similarly dire experience: Mantovani. 101 Strings. 101 Strings Plays Mantovani. All priced at $1.50. Double LPs are noted and charged as if they were two. I mean, christ, if I feel like taking a chance on a weird record, there’s nothing that’ll change my mind quicker than asking twice as much for it.

On the other hand, I really like our St. Vinnie’s on MLK in inner SE. I’ve only checked it out a few times, but every time I’ve come out with some decently-kitschy stuff for very little money. The store is definitely open to the public (though rather small), but has much more “classic” thrift store charm. Its salvaged display cases, improvised shelves, and reasonable prices are everything a thrift store should be. It’s weird to call Goodwill over-commercialized, but I think it’s apt– those guys think they can sell any old piece of junk. Vinnie’s seems to place functionality way higher on its list of priorities. Send your thrift dollars to them instead!