Just in time for the holidays, New York City’s trash is being auctioned off

The holidays are upon us again, like a gift-wrapped anvil falling out of a window. Time to get together with loved ones, revive old arguments and abruptly change the subject with the exchange of gifts.

But what if you don’t have enough Yankee Candles to re-gift? What if you left the mall with only a Far Side desk calendar and a hot chocolate from Starbucks? What if everything in the LL Bean catalog looks exactly like the gifts you gave last year or in 1989?

Allow us to propose a new solution to your gift-buying woes: items that New York City no longer has any use for. The waste of the metropolis. The cast-offs of Gotham.

Leave Dad speechless by offering him a 40-foot shipping container once used by the Department of Environmental Protection. Just like those huge containers you see on freight ships! Bidding starts at a low, low $100.

Mom will hold you tight—maybe too tight—after you give her not one, not 10, but 100 cans of “flying bug killer.” The starting bid for the entire set is only €5.

And the kids will scream with joy when they find under the tree three Motorola walkie-talkies once used by the Manhattan district attorney’s office. Imagine if those walkie-talkies could talk! The opening bid is $5. Ten four.

All this and more – outdated office supplies, broken light bulbs, used washing machines, underwater sonar equipment, protective masks – come and go on the public auction site under the supervision of the Department of Citywide Administrative Servicesthe little-noticed but essential agency that makes this enormous city the chaotic wonder that it is.

DCAS, as it is known among municipal celebrities, is responsible for hiring and training city employees, managing dozens of public buildings, overseeing city assets – and purchasing more than $1 billion in goods and services annually. The agency’s commissioner, Dawn M. Pinnock, described the online surplus auctions as a “smorgasbord” of the fascinating and random things “that come with running a government of this size and providing services to more than 8 .3 million New Yorkers.”

But the usefulness of those goods is not eternal. What happens when the Department of Aging no longer needs a so-called camcorder? When the combination to that old safe on West 135th Street is long forgotten? When the worn chairs in the reception area of ​​the Brooklyn borough president’s office are no longer admissible? When DCAS has to throw away a 12 ton lathe from the 1950s?

Such weighty matters fall under the purview of Juan Batista, a senior executive director of DCAS who runs the Central Storehouse in Queens. His power to dispose of objects that have outlived their usefulness is enshrined in the City Statute (Title 55, Chapter 5: Disposal of Personal Property).

Mr. Batista explained that each city agency has a “salvage officer” who is responsible for things that just take up space. If a disused item cannot be placed with another agency, the officer will work with DCAS to take photos and post an appropriate description on the city’s public surplus auction website.

Every now and then a city object put up for auction attracts excessive attention. In early 2022, comedians Colin Jost and Pete Davidson, along with a third partner, raised $280,000 for a decommissioned Staten Island Ferry boat. A few months later, an anonymous bidder paid $236,000 for a 1960s “redbird” subway car.

More often, however, the objects are so ordinary – so unremarkable – that their photographs resemble exhibits from some post-post-postmodern art installation about municipal irony.

“Pencils without erasers.” “Add machine paper rolls.” “Rubber bands.” “Wired keyboard.” “Hoover vacuum cleaner.”

Hoover vacuum cleaner, you say? Yes, but it’s broken: “Parts only.”

Studying the wreckage on the auction list, you get a vague idea of ​​the cosmic operation in New York City: the requisition forms, approvals and signatures and who knows what else lies behind almost every item that appears in the daily grind of the metropolis . The rolls of toilet paper in the bathrooms of city hall. The bedding in the emergency shelter. The stuff of a city.

Even the directness of the language describing the items evokes a New York sensibility, reminiscent of a weary cop standing in Times Square answering questions about how to get to Times Square.

‘Broken metal lamp.’ ‘Two stained chairs with gray cushions.’ “Two wobbly wooden tables,” with the helpful addendum that “the table is not stable to place items on.”

Buyer beware, friend.

But again: you never know. Mr Batista said the site is attracting many regular bidders, whose embrace of the possible is fueling the city’s entrepreneurial spirit. Like the visionary who sees a secondary market for those 92 used motion-sensitive soap dispensers (the 184 AA batteries are not included), or senses the scrap potential in the 11 pallets of ‘unclean’ radiators.

“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” Mr. Batista said. “I like to think it’s all a great second act.”

And a great option for holiday gifts.

For the kids, maybe a stash of retro goodies from the Staten Island president’s office. Imagine their delight as they try to figure out the purpose of a drum cartridge for a fax machine, or the transparent card protectors for the once-ubiquitous desk item known as Rolodex.

Maybe something more adventurous for mom than those cans of flying insect killer. Consider the seven diving flashlights – all from the police harbor unit, and all “non-operational” and in “poor” condition.

But for Dad, you just can’t beat that 40-foot shipping container. It is as blue as the ocean, with rusty dents and gaping holes that emphasize its authenticity. This is not a replica.

If you match that starting bid of $100, all Dad has to do is go to Wards Island and pick it up. (Seriously. No deliveries.)

Just imagine the look on the old man’s face!

Audio produced by Sara Diamond.