Thirty years ago, I was about six years old; I lived in Netanya, Israel; my best buddy was named Teddy; the currency was the Old Israeli Shekel; and, together with Teddy, I found a large stack of last week’s TV-guide that went (new) for a single Shekel. Teddy and I figured that since these are almost new we could still easily resell them for a bargain half a Shekel each, the street value of a popsicle.
Under our building in Ha’Galil Street there was a gap in the hedges and a nice wide stone fence where we could set up shop and display the merchandise. People passed uninterested for a while and then we got our first customer — an old man. This old man gave us half a Shekel and a bit of wisdom: an explanation why people aren’t going to pay for last week’s TV schedule, news, and gossip. We understood. We folded.