Apparently, they did not like the little distribution business I had started. 7th and 8th graders were not supposed to buy such a product.
"They are so young" it was said.
"How can they be making such adult choices" it was asked.
Then the focus came back squarely on me..."That little delinquent is providing access to the contraband. What are we going to do about it?"
My supplier did not have as high a mark-up as I did, but she was happy. I made sure to tip her from time to time and to make sure she knew she was appreciated. I had a system...my supplier would purchase the goods, I would split it up into individual servings...Each type would be priced accordingly. I could sell the high-end product at twice the price I could see the generic street product for. I would give discounts to my regular buyers and their buying in bulk.
But when the Jr. High Principle called pops, the distribution quickly came to an end. My parents said "boys will be boys" and dismissed my selling as a rite-of-passage.
El Rancho lost their Blow-Pop supplier that day. Candy being sold at a modest mark-up just was not in the cards for the school. They could not have a 12-year old making $30-$45 a week selling suckers...They had gum in them and gum ended up at the underside of desks...they also were not approved snacks for 7th and 8th graders.Mom had to stop buying them in bulk from Price Club (now called Costco)...well, not completely...she still had 6 kids at home that loved to eat them!
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Thanks mom for getting my little business off the ground and being my "supplier".
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Remember this???
11 comments:
Blow-pops used to rock my world. But not the funky flavors. Just the original, plain old, first produced and released to the hounds Blow-pop.
Hallie :)
I still buy Blow pops every now and then. My kids love them and the gum in the middle tastes great (even if only for a few seconds until all the sugar is gone)!
Kimmy
I did something like that in Highschool. I hollowed a book and kept the candy in the middle.
I would have surely kept your profit margins high! Blow-ups are still the best (even if I do have fillings from them & Hubba Bubba!!!)
Kids like you were got me hooked on the blow. I hope you're happy. My life has never been the same since.
(though I don't care for the sour apple flavored ones...)
Oh you little entrepreneur! I found out this year my oldest son was selling gum, baseball cards and sports pencils. He made like $35 before his teacher shut him down. I couldn't be mad at the kid. He took that money along with his toothfairy and birthday money and bought two shares of Visa at $55. He sold it at $88. The kid reads Kiplinger. He's 10.
Ha! My brother got in trouble in jr high for sneaking contraband Bubble Yum into school. Back then it was 25 cents for a pack of 5 pieces, and he'd turn around and sell it for 2 cents per piece. You must be kindred spirits.
You have to love the entrepreneurial spirit, yeah?
((And can we all invest with April's son??))
Ok Bogart, I'll share the part of the story I DIDN'T write about. (cuz he wouldn't have been thrilled)
Mr. H was a fatty when he was little - he wore huskys. Enough said?
He ate everything and anything.
Which is why, when he saw the little blue egg outside around Easter time, he decided to pop the sucker in his mouth.
Thank God he thinned out and doesn't eat food he finds in grass anymore!
Hallie
Oh man, do I miss those. I think I may have to buy one on the way home. Such a great memory!
You just reminded me of the delinquent I used to be in my freshman year of high school, back in the 60's. The Jesuit Priests at Boston College HS didn’t appreciate my entrepreneurism of selling firecrackers even though all my business was conducted off school grounds (I really thought I was covering myself). Unfortunately one of the good fathers discovered the product in the locker of a customer, who to my dismay gave me up rather quickly. The result was the Jesuits Fathers handing me off to the Franciscan Fathers in Boston’s North End for the remainder of my high school years. I guess they thought I should go back to where I came from, a neighborhood of Italian hoodlums. Good times!
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