That evening at dinner, I was still searching for the right idea when Dad started telling one of his old stories.
“You know,” he said, cutting into his meatloaf, “when I was about your age, I had a little side business at school.”
I looked up from my mashed potatoes. “What kind of business?”
“Well, there was this discount store about six blocks from our school, but we weren’t allowed to leave campus during lunch. So I’d walk there every morning before school and buy candy bars and sodas.”
“Why?” Jake asked, his mouth full of green beans.
“Because I’d sell them to other kids during lunch for double what I paid. They were willing to pay extra because they couldn’t get them anywhere else.”
Mom smiled. “Your father was quite the entrepreneur.”
“How much money did you make?” I asked, suddenly very interested.
Dad thought for a moment. “Oh, probably twenty or thirty dollars a week. Which was a lot of money back then.”
My fork stopped halfway to my mouth. “Twenty or thirty dollars a week?”
“Sometimes more. Especially around Halloween when everyone wanted candy. I remember one week I made almost fifty dollars.”
I did quick math in my head. Fifty dollars a week for twelve weeks of summer… that was six hundred dollars. Exactly what I needed.
“What happened to your business?” I asked.
“The school found out and made me stop. Apparently, they had some rule about selling food on campus.” Dad chuckled. “But it was fun while it lasted.”
“That’s actually really smart,” I said slowly.
“What’s smart?” Mom asked.
“Buying something cheap and selling it for more where people can’t get it easily.”
Dad nodded. “That’s called arbitrage. You find a price difference between two markets and profit from it.”
“Arbitrage,” I repeated, testing out the word.
“Why are you so interested in Dad’s old candy business?” Jake asked suspiciously. “You’re not planning to steal my Halloween candy and sell it, are you?”
I shrugged, trying to look casual. “Just curious.” Though that wasn’t actually a bad idea…
But inside, my mind was racing. The park didn’t have a snack stand.
Kids at the park were always hungry after playing.
I could buy snacks cheap at the warehouse store and sell them at the park for a small profit. No dogs to chase. No lemonade to make. Just simple buying and selling.
“Dad,” I said carefully, “hypothetically, if someone wanted to sell snacks at a park, would they need permission?”
“Probably. Most public places require permits for vendors.”
My heart sank a little.
“But,” Dad continued, “if it was just a kid with a small table, I doubt anyone would make a big fuss. Especially if you weren’t causing problems.”
I tried to keep my expression neutral, but inside I was practically bouncing.
“Hypothetically,” I said again.
Dad winked at me. “Hypothetically.”
After dinner, I went up to my room and pulled out my notebook. I started making calculations:
Candy bars: 50 cents each
Sell for: $1.00 each
Profit per candy bar: 50 cents
Sodas: 75 cents each
Sell for: $1.50 each
Profit per soda: 75 cents
If I sold just ten candy bars and ten sodas a day, that would be twelve dollars and fifty cents in profit. Do that five days a week for twelve weeks…
I grabbed my calculator.
Three hundred and seventy-five dollars. Still not quite enough, but way closer than fifteen dollars from dog washing.
And if I sold more than ten of each…
I stared at my notebook, my heart pounding.
That’s it!