Businessman Extraordinaire

     I truly believe that everyone goes through the "businessman" phase in their life. Fortunately for me, I  decided to become an entrepreneur at a younger age. Perhaps if the business tendencies had developed later in life, say high school, I would be dealing with more potent products besides candy. Yeah thats right, I bought, repackaged and sold candy and gums for two days. Definitely the most prosperous two days of my entirety.

     So what does this all mean? I guess my adventures as the "guy who could get things" could mark me as a criminal. However, I choose to reflect on my past endeavors in a different light. What I want this story to expose is my altruistic qualities as a young facilitator and friend to the kids of NPMS. 

     It was 7th grade, a interesting time indeed. Caught in-between the sweaty, uncontrollable 6th graders and the pompous 8th grade, I felt like a "Stranger" to the rest of the school. This didn't mean I was apathetic or impulsively murderous like our good friend Meursault, but I was stuck somewhere in-between. Don't get the wrong idea either, I didn't start selling the goods to make a name for myself. I didn't do it for the popularity, and I didn't do it for the money (although it was plentiful, believe me). I was just trying to be innovative. 

     Its true, while many start selling candy for the perks, I just liked to sell. I liked to bargain, deal and distribute. Negotiation just gave me a rush that not even all of my product could match. And we are talking the hard stuff: Skittles, Fun-Dip, Smarties and my personal favorite: Smints

    Smints? Never heard of them? Thats probably because they aren't sold in the U.S. Not only were Smints the spark that lit the fire, but they were the water that put it out. You see, it all started when my Mom went on her first business trip outside the U.S. While I was happy I didn't have to deal with her incessant nagging for a week, it was nothing compared to the thrill I found in what she brought back. The small tic-tac looking box was visually unappealing, but boy were those little triangular mints tasty. Right then and there I knew I had a gem on my hands. Sure it started with a few hand outs to closer friends, but once they got popular I had to take advantage.
     Just like that, I had a business. With my mom unknowingly acting as the smuggler, every shipment of Smint's brought into the U.S. was circulated throughout my very own Middle School. I remember feeling so energized when I handed over the merchandise for the "generous" price of $2.50. Was I expensive? Yes. However, no one cared because the succulent Smint's were simply too tasty. Soon they became a symbol, a sign of alternative culture. If you possessed the European candy, you were a hit.
     As the popularity rose, I had to expand (What choice did I have?). Through great deliberation and thought I chose a right hand man to accompany me with the selling, a secretary to track orders and a treasurer to hold the money. Additionally, I expanded my variety of product. Not only was I selling Smint's, but my team and I were running gums and soon after, the aforementioned candies. Keep in mind what this demonstrates about me. I was a hero, just a man trying to twist the boring routine of NPMS. With the candy business, not only was I bringing in profit, but I was having loads of fun. I saw myself as master con-artist, a young, more exuberant Ponzi. But like they say, "all good things must come to an end."
     Only two days in and I had made close to $40 net profit. People were stir crazy for my business and I was getting cocky, a horrible combination. I remember the deal, the last deal I ever made. Two sticks of Five gum and a pack of the infamous Smint's for a "mere" $3.00. With that devious smile on my face, I closed my locker in pride, knowing I had just successfully ripped off yet another hopeless customer. Unfortunately, behind that locker was one of those meddling snoops of a lunch monitor. The type that would stop at nothing to bust some innocent kid.
     A few minutes later, I found myself in the principals office, literally shaking with fear. I had known that what I was doing was wrong, but I wasn't completely stupid. I had a back-up plan, like all good conmen should have. Knowing that my monopoly could come to an abrupt end in the near future, I brought my gullible father into the equation. Earlier that week, I had played the innocent card with him, asking him basic questions about business and sales. So when the principal spoke with my father, as I expected, he believed that I was too naive to know better. Plus, I had already gotten rid of the evidence. My treasurer had the money at home, my secretary trashed the order list, and my second seller was already dumping the product in some soon to be jubilant kid's locker. It was the perfect end to a perfect plan…
    In the end, I got off easy. Sure they framed me for petty vandalism in the schools computer lab later that week, but I understood. You got to keep everybody happy, I was willing to sacrifice some shame for the bigger picture.As for the rest of my team? They went their separate ways. Some dealt low in the shadows of the 6th grade wing, others like me retired. It was the smart thing to do. "A good businessman knows when to fold his cards and take a rest." While I was scared out of mind at the time, I now recollect on this experience in more nostalgia.
What should this reveal about me? Well for one, I exaggerate. But who doesn't love a good story?