This week I had to make a trip to an auction house to pick up some items that I had just purchased. It was a bit of a haul, but I knew that I had to make the trip, and so I fully prepared myself with coffee. All went fine until I was shown into the gallery where the items were available for pickup. The first lot, a group of five Chinese snuff bottles, were handed to me jiggling in a lunch baggie. Now, two of the bottles were cinnabar, which is a very soft mineral used for carving. Seeing and hearing the carved soft bottles banging around together in the bag was terrifying to behold. Next to it was a lot consisting of three paintings that I purchased. Two were oil on canvas and one was an oil on board. They were stacked, all facing the same direction, one on top of each other, the hardware from each poking into the surface of the painting behind. Thankfully, neither the bottles nor the paintings were damaged, but it was a near-disaster kind of moment that left me angry and frustrated. There was no one to call over about this as the leads in the auction house were not around. It strikes me that there are two extremist schools of thought in the auction world, those that are paranoid about condition to the extreme and spend countless time and hours preparing items for shipment (the minority), and the larger group that treats 19th-century snuff bottles and 1970s era Pez dispensers the same way. The house that I was in was clearly part of the latter group. With any antique, there needs to be some degree of care in handling. Now, I am not convinced white gloves are needed for cast-iron stove plates, but equally, I am not sure that rolling a quilt up in a ball and throwing it in the back of an open pickup truck is a good idea. We all recognize that something damaged or broken is not going to be sold easily, but I see far too many dealers and auctioneers who seem to demonstrate an odd pride in manhandling fragile items. For the auction house I went to, it was clear that no one was spending the time to train the staff on what to do and what not to do. I am sure that some will argue that such training costs money and houses lack the resources to undertake this. My answer would be that training would prevent future claims, losses and bad press. And what kind of training would I suggest? Well, I think it boils down to three areas: 1) How to carry things. Support rather than drag. Lift the body rather than by a handle. 2) How to stack things. If its fragile, pack it. If its awkward, support it. If it is a piece of art, well, no painting ever got kicked hanging on a wall. 3) How to be safe. Check guns to make sure they are unloaded EVERY time. Tetanus is still a risk, get your shots. Even this kind of basic knowledge would prevent a lot of problems going forward and maybe ensure that clients, both buyers and sellers, are happy. Born to collect should be the motto of Peter Seiberts family. Raised in Central Pennsylvania, Seibert has been collecting and writing about antiques for more than three decades. By day, he is a museum director and has worked in Pennsylvania, Wyoming, Virginia and New Mexico. In addition, he advises and consults with auction houses throughout the Mid-Atlantic region, particularly about American furniture and decorative arts. Seiberts writings include books on photography, American fraternal societies and paintings. He and his family are restoring a 1905 arts and crafts house filled with years worth of antique treasures found in shops, co-ops and at auctions.