Of all the money-making schemes of my youth, this was easily the most profitable and the most fun.
In the early 80s, video games were all the rage. Malls had huge arcades and games could be found inside convenience stores and restaurants. But for us, the record store in our tiny downtown was our personal arcade. It housed eight different video games.
My friends and I would ride our bikes downtown at least twice a week to play the games. Eventually, we became quite good at some of the games. I became a master at the cutesy games like Ms. Pac-Man, Donkey Kong, and Donkey Kong Jr. My best friend gravitated towards the space shoot-em-ups like Galaga and Zaxxon. And then there were the games we were both good at, like Centipede. We would've kicked major ass on Starcade.
The record store was making good money through their video games. There was often a wait to play your favorite game. And then the store found a way to make even more money: they decided to give away a cassette tape to the owner of the high score of each game every week.
Like I said, my friend and I were quite good. So it would be nothing for us to hold the high scores on six of the eight games on any given week. We were trading our quarters in for every single band we saw on MTV. We were ear-deep in music and loved it.
But eventually, we realized we could make money at this.
The high scorers were awarded their cassettes on Saturday mornings. So every Friday afternoon, my friend and I would ride our bikes to the record store, see the scores that were in contention, and try to beat them. We limited ourselves to a buck a game. Most of the time we could set the high score with just a quarter, but once we hit the $1.00 mark and had not set a high score, we moved onto the next game.
On Saturday mornings, we would ride back to the store and collect our winnings. On Monday morning, we would sell the tapes to our classmates for $4.00 each. It was cheap enough that our classmates were getting a hell of a deal, but it was rich enough that we were making decent money. I remember one week where we set the high score on six machines by just spending $2.50. We turned a $21.50 profit that week.
Our business eventually became backlogged. Kids would place their orders with us and due to the number of kids already on the waiting list, it would take three weeks for them to receive their Cyndi Lauper tape.
But like all good things, this eventually came to an end. We never got busted at school, but the record store banned us from the competition. We bitched, moaned, and complained, and told them it wasn't fair to ban us just because we won on a consistent basis. But we were thirteen-year-old kids. And thirteen-year-olds don't have a lot of say when it comes to how businesses run their promotions.
To this day, I believe I could've put myself through college if they would've allowed us to play through high school.
Bastards.
More money-making schemes from my youth:
The Great Playboy Heist
Fish In A Barrel
The Haunted Forest
The Fifth Grade Flea Market In A Bag
Song of the day: Jelly Roll by Blue Murder
Youthful Idiocy: The Middle School Music Store
