The Professor, the Butcher and the Prisoner

Once plentiful, now an endangered species, the stamp describer of today still tends to conform to one of three well established stereotypes – or a mongrelised combination thereof.

Known as either 'cataloguing' or 'describing', the task of preparing lots for auction requires skills acquired over many years. The rare beasts that carry out this work are rarely seen away from their desks, some only going outside to smoke or cry. None of the characters below are to be found at Grosvenor, it goes without saying, but we all recognise the types.

The Professor

The Professor sees the breaking up of a collection as a scientific dissection to be carried out only after careful analysis. He is slow in his work and deeply resents colleagues that urge him to proceed more quickly as a deadline approaches. He makes great use of his magnifying glass, which has a private name known only to him. The borrowing of his perforation gauge or other philatelic equipment will deeply unsettle him until the item is safely returned.

He enjoys listening to cricket on the radio and dislikes modern developments, such as one-day games, which he views as ridiculously short. Some Professors are married but when questioned cannot explain how this came to be.

The Butcher

The Butcher has often acquired other responsibilities within the auction house such as administration or visiting clients. When called upon to put these duties aside in order to help with describing he will attack collections with gusto, tossing albums gleefully into boxes and sometimes chuckling for no obvious reason. It is best that he is not told that the original collector is deceased as this will only increase the savagery.

He is convinced that he knows very well what things are worth as he learned this in his early years and has seen no reason to amend his valuation levels over the passing years. When confronted by a recent market realisation he will assert that this was 'probably just a freak result'.

The Prisoner

The Prisoner started life as a stamp describer shortly after leaving school or university and joined an auction house in the spirit of this being a 'first job' only. Thirty years later he is bewildered to be still there. This realisation can lead to advanced clockwatching and, in the worst cases, the friendly presence of a bottle of Scotch whisky or other comforter in the bottom drawer of his desk. He is convinced that his colleagues do not know that it is there. He is fooling himself.

He actually rather likes stamps but tends not to reveal this away from the office as he feels that he still has a good chance with 'the ladies' and that the admission might affect his chances. In this he is really fooling himself.

JG