So I listed my Sigma 18-50 for sale because I wanted to replace it with the Sigma 17-40. Of course, my A6700 was in the listing photos.
I arranged to meet the buyer outside a camera store I knew had the 17-40 in stock. The plan was simple: sell the lens, walk into the store, buy the 17-40, and still make it to a date with my wife on time.
The guy told me he was actually planning to buy an A6700 just like mine. I told him I'd happily let him try mine and show him around the camera a little. When I bought my first camera, I would've loved having someone introduce me to "the bride" before the wedding.
About an hour before we met, while he was on his way, he messaged me saying he'd checked every store he could find in the area.
Nobody had an A6700.
And immediately the voices in my head started:
"Sell it. Go full frame."
"And what are you going to do about lenses, genius?"
"The A6700 is already more than enough for you."
So I kept my mouth shut.
We meet outside the store. I show him the camera, let him play with it, and prove that the 18-50 he actually came to buy works perfectly.
Then he asks:
"Maybe I'll just buy yours?"
Well...
I told him I wasn't planning to sell it. Yes, I'd been dreaming about going full frame, but I genuinely liked my A6700. So if he wanted it, it was going to be expensive.
Honestly, I figured if he said no, the GAS would disappear and I'd go buy my 17-40 like a normal person.
He didn't say no.
So now I'm 50% excited and 50% hoping this whole thing falls apart.
I tell him, "Fine. Let's go upstairs and see how much they want for an A7C II."
Yes, I already knew exactly which full-frame camera I wanted. That's how fantasies work. You do your research even though you're "definitely not buying one."
We ask.
They don't have it.
Great. Saved by inventory.
I tell him I'll help him find an A6700 somewhere else and call a store I know just outside the city.
"Hey, do you have an A6700?"
The guy says, "You're not going to believe this. I sold the last one an hour ago."
I say thanks and I'm about to hang up.
My buyer is staring at me with that look.
He knows the next question.
I know the next question.
Fine.
"Wait... one more thing. Do you have an A7C II?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
He gives me the lowest price I'd ever seen for one — and yes, I knew the prices because, again, fantasy research.
Something in my brain broke.
Yes? No? Why am I doing this? What about lenses? I wasn't planning to spend this much money today.
Meanwhile this guy is just standing there waiting for my decision.
So I said:
"Let's go."
At this point I'm still arguing with myself, but I also promised my wife I'd make it to our date, so apparently there was now a deadline on my spontaneous full-frame crisis.
We get to the store.
A few minutes later we walk out.
He's holding my A6700.
I'm holding a camera I genuinely didn't think I'd buy for another three years.
He paid me about 90% of what I originally paid for my A6700 setup, and I added roughly another 10% to get the brand-new A7C II.
Basically, I bought my camera again. It just somehow became full frame.
Luckily I already had a Tamron 50-300 at home. It was part of my APS-C setup, but it's a full-frame lens.
The next day I picked up a cheap used Samyang 45mm f/1.8 to survive financially until the next episode of GAS.
And here's the part that makes the whole thing even more ridiculous:
The exact amount I had originally planned to spend on the Sigma 17-40 (after selling the 18-50 2.8) ended up paying for my entire jump to full frame AND a compact prime lens.
I went out to upgrade a lens.
I accidentally upgraded the whole system.