How to Sell Curiosity

This was Bankstown Markets. The place where you had to dig through mounds of what most people would call crap. The market was like the real-life Amazon, run not by a billionaire, but by real people selling whatever they could find in their garage. Here you could find anything your heart desired; you just had to have enough patience to sift through the mixed bags of miscellaneous items sprawled out across the asphalt.

Sellers sold everything from parrots to exotic fruits to old computer parts to everything else in between. As you made your way through the markets you could feel its heart pulsate as people mingled with one another, exchanging hard-earned cash for whatever they wanted.

The market sellers at Bankstown were humble people. Most storefronts—or, more accurately, the trunks of cars and blue tarps spread across the ground—were manned mostly by families who often dragged along their kids to help out for the day.

One of those kids was named Raymond.

Raymond was your average seven-year-old, curious about the world. Whenever he tagged along to help his dad on Sundays, he often explored the market by himself—asking questions about anything and everything.

It was always "How does this work?" or "What is this?", but his favourite thing to ask was "Why?"

"Why does that look like that?"

"Why does that bird have yellow skin?"

"Why is he missing an eye?"

Raymond questioned everything and often got under his dad's skin when he asked one too many questions—not because he was a bad dad, but because he was frustrated no one was buying anything from their store.

"Dad, why is no one buying anything?"

"It's not that easy selling old computers and appliances."

"Why?"

"This is all we have to sell, so people either want it or they don't. What you see is what you get, and if they don't like what they see, they don't buy. As simple as that."

"But why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do they have to see what they get?"

"Because people are coming here looking for something."

"Why?"

"Why are they looking for something?"

"Yeah."

"Usually, to solve a problem."

"What if they don't have a problem?"

"Then they don't buy anything."

"Okay."

Raymond thought for a moment.

"Why don't you make it more fun?"

"How do you suppose we do that?"

"Close your eyes."

"Alright," replied the father, shutting his eyelids.

Raymond reached for three cardboard boxes, a permanent marker, some tape, and three random items scattered on the floor.

"Keep them closed, no peeking."

Raymond's father went along with the game.

"They're sealed shut," said the father, smiling.

Raymond placed each of the items in the empty boxes before taping them closed and drawing a question mark on top of the packages.

"Okay, you can open your eyes."

Raymond arranged each of the boxes in front of his father.

"What are these?"

"It's like Christmas, pick one."

Raymond's father reached for one of the boxes, shaking it to try to guess what Raymond had stuffed inside. An onlooker noticed the boy playing the game with his father and stopped to ask a question.

"What's in the box?"

"It's a mystery. Do you want one?" Raymond replied.

"How much?"

"Ten dollars."

"Deal," smiled the man, handing Raymond a crisp ten-dollar bill.

Another stranger, excited by the exchange, offered to buy the remaining box. The two men stood huddled around Raymond and his father, wondering what they just bought.

"Go on," said Raymond, excited to see his customers' and father's face react to what was inside.

The two strangers went first.

"A toaster, nice!"

"I got a DVD, cool."

"And I got a screwdriver?" said the father, confused.

Amused by Raymond's game, the strangers thanked him and walked away.

"See, Dad?"

It took the father a moment to process that his seven-year-old son had made more money in five minutes than he did in the past four hours.

"Hey Raymond," he paused. "I think you might be onto something."

The next weekend, the father and son drove to their local hardware store. When they arrived, they made their way to the front counters, where customers were free to take as many cardboard boxes as they wanted. After loading the father's car with hundreds of boxes ranging in sizes, the boys would spend the next two hours packaging each and every item they failed to sell the previous weekend. The father taped the boxes shut while Raymond handled the graphics, drawing question marks on each of the boxes and crafting a hand made sign that read: $10 MYSTERY GIFTS 4 SALE!

A day later, they set up their stall in their usual location. This time, however, during their setup, the boys noticed a surprising amount of attention towards what was inside the packages. Before they knew it, a small crowd had formed, people immediately asking questions amongst themselves.

"What do you think is inside?" said one customer, putting the box up to his ear.

"Ten dollars and you can find out," chimed in the confident Raymond.

Within the first ten minutes, they managed to sell ten items, bringing in a total of a hundred dollars. To the father's surprise, people cared less about what was inside the boxes and more about what obscure object fate had sent them that day.

As the day progressed, the crowd attracted more people. Mystery boxes were being ripped open left, right, and centre. The randomness of the items brought joy to the customers' faces, and before they knew it, they had sold out.

With half a day to spare, the father offered to call it a day and take Raymond for a treat using some of the cash they had just earned.

"Do you wanna get an ice cream to celebrate?"

"Why?"