He relied primarily on word of mouth, along with people’s inclinations to choose what was most convenient for them. Of course, there was a reliable garbage disposal and recycling plant that operated throughout the city, but that still required people to haul their things out to their street curb.
Hauling a CRT TV out on the sidewalk was a pain in the neck.
Guy carefully unfolds the piece of paper clutched in his hands, eyes scanning over the address scrawled upon it. Someone had told him a Mr. Zelos Wilder was looking for someone to take an old television off his hands. It would be a shame for it to go straight into a garbage heap.
After all, imagine how many racks he’d be able to fit inside the machine’s shell. That was a lot of bread one person could toast a time.
He raps on the door twice while double-checking the piece of paper, just in case. His other hand rested on the handle of the trolley he’d brought with him.
“Guy Cecil here for your old TV!” he called from outside the door.
(”Old”, he called them, but never “broken”.)
