Post I made from a couple of years ago that I didnt end up posting. Summer of 2016.
I’ve been pretty bad with this whole concept of self-improvement. All throughout my life I’ve been reluctant to continue on with things; perhaps this is from my early childhood memories of lies and projecting fakeness, where I think I’m good and lie to myself as such, and don’t end up improving. I think it might also have to do with the narcissism that was developed at an early age that continues on due to my lack of responsibility. I mean, I’ll get over it one day, right? (Right.)
The one thing I HAVE been good at, though, at all points of my life, is merchanting. Simply put, it’s the ability to flip items: buy them at a low price, sell for high. Mainly encompassing easy items to sell, of course. My sophomore year of high school was filled with buying iPods, CD players, whatever else I could at cheap prices and selling them for higher. The margins weren’t amazing; 30 bucks here, 20 bucks there; and I didn’t really keep track of my earnings. But hell, it was fun. I loved how the seller was always willing to sell, and the buyer was always willing to buy. The transactions and the happiness of each party always made it worth it. Yet, the best feeling was, of course, all about the money.
Maybe not even the money itself, because I never really spent it on anything extravagant. I’m a pretty simple guy. Aside from the essentials – shelter, food – if I have a weighted keyboard I could pretty much do anything and be content with life. (Is that too much to ask!?) But damn, the fact that I’m able to spot the price discrepancy from low to high, and pocket myself that difference due to MY work is just so fun. It feels, almost, like trickery, like I outsmarted everyone.
This eventually becomes true from a larger scale. When you create a business, it’s yours. You built that bad boy from the start up. It doesn’t have to be anything huge, it can just be a simple idea that you fabricate and express into the world. You become responsible for every little part of the process: the handling of the inventory, the picking out each little expense using fiscal understanding, the thank-you notes you handpick into every little envelope. It becomes ingrained in you. The process is a chore, but it’s your chore. It’s financial, emotional and logical independence.
So you can imagine the disappointment I had when I sold off my Pokemon cards today. I spent all summer on eBay buying and selling Pokemon cards; I’d created a pretty good business model, opened up a Store and huffed and puffed through all the little fees to make a decent living over the summer. But school has started; I’m a super senior, and I only have two more classes to go before I need to go out into the real world and be, like, independent. I can’t live in my parents’ basement anymore! (Even if Mom really wants me to get a job near home.)
Yeah, it was a bunch of old Pokemon cards I have no use for. I still have my old holographic cards left, so it’s not like my entire childhood has been compromised.
But this decision wasn’t financial. It sure as hell wasn’t emotional. It’s about understanding where my life has come so far, embracing the new card smell that I’ve enjoyed for so long and learning to let it go and start a life full of responsibilities and financial liabilities and heartbreaks and social connections and friendships and love and what else have you. It’s about learning to live a better life without the things that just don’t matter anymore.
It’s not always about the profit margin or the ROI. It’s about establishing a different kind of goal – one not necessarily fueled by emotion.
It’s about saving time and learning to let it g, and I took a step in the right direction today.
KEVIN KIM 