Well, I learned something about selling t-shirts at the Alameda Sports facility know as Network Associates Coliseum over the weekend. I learned that pre-season games that start at 1p.m. are not the ideal setting for a major turnover of goods. I learned that one has to be quite slick in one's covert approach to salesmanship if one does not wish to be busted by the patroling PD on mountain bikes. I learned that selling shirts there has the potential to be quite a profitable enterprise if the proper planning, staging and execution are put into place. And it can definitely be adrenaline-inducing fun to boot.
Jay Hunt and I made the trip out there on Friday night -- I doing most of the driving -- and reached our destination of Oakland around 4 a.m. And by the time we figured out what motel parking lot to use for some in-car snoozing it was closer to 6. I didn't get much sleep, the area is quite shady after all, and it was stuffy and hot in the car due to the miniscule cracking of the windows which Jay and I deemed prudent as a result of this overall shadiness. We had also stopped for restroom purposes at a Dennys and ran into a few fellow venture-capitalists who provided us with some insight into the process of 'slingin' merch at the N.A.C. Now one woman in particular -- who was selling t-shirts that were direct copyright infringement knock-offs of the Raiders 50th anniversary design -- put the fear of god into Jay, who is naturally predisposed to over-cautiousness and paranoid concern to begin with. She spun a tale of cops waiting around every parked and tailgating car, and that as soon as the sniff of your un-licensed t-shirt operation hit their collective nostrils, you'd be facing imminent jail-time. She provided some excellent advise however, on how one avoids the all-seeing eye of the fuzz. But all Jay took from the conversation was that we were surely doomed if we set foot in that parking lot with the intent to sell.
With some hearty cajoling on my part, and some brazen assurance it was decided and agreed upon that first thing come morning (about 8 a.m.) we would start out trying our luck in the surrounding parking lots of the Walmart, the Raider Image, the gas station, and the food spots but then, regardless of the risks, we would -- heeding the woman's advise -- take to the lot. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to go on outside of the Coliseum, as the game proved to be less of a draw than we would have hoped. Because of the extreme heat perhaps, or the early hour of the game, or for the simple fact that it didn't really matter being merely exhibition, there wasn't the usual turnout one would expect at a Silver and Black game. Thus, around 10 a.m. we determined our chances of making a sale would be greatly increased if we made the plunge into the tailgating mecca that awaited us in the N.A.C. parking lot. As we parked it became evident that things were only just getting under way, as we were part of a fledgling group of tailgaters that were only beginning to set up. This made it difficult to begin selling right away as there was little cover, and the parking attendants were everywhere guiding the new arrivals into their respective parking-spaces. After a cursory casing of our surroundings, it was time to begin.
Our operation ran thusly: there were 50 t-shirts of each design, I wore the 'La Nacion' tee, while Jay wore the 'Cable Smash' tee, and the rest were stashed in the trunk of the car. We would each take to walking through the various lanes between the cars where the bulk of the grilling and general cavorting was taking place and -- with a couple of t-shirts thrown over our shoulders, so if accosted by the 5-0 we could say that we had just purchased them and if they chose to confiscate our merch it wouldn't be too big of a hit -- with any luck people would ask us about the shirts we were wearing, and we'd tell them we had them for sale, and if they expressed interest they'd indicate a size and we would either by luck have that particular size over our shoulder, or we'd go back to the trunk, retrieve it, then return to the person for the exchange of cash. The Cable Smash shirt proved to be the order of the day and Jay got to selling first as a result. Now paranoia being the mind-killer it is, and Jay being chalk-full of it all morning, he of course had a pulse-pounding experience almost immediately after commencing his route. Apparently he had landed an interested party, and had retrieved the necessary size, and made the change of hands, when he spotted a parking attendant pointing towards him with one hand and waving someone else in with the other. In Jay's feverishly heightened state of fear, that attendant was alerting the bicycle patrolmen to his illegal activity. This was the nail sealing his coffin, or the key turning the lock on his jail-cell as it were. He had one t-shirt still resting over his shoulder, and in an instant, he'd tossed it to the asphault below. Now with cooler head, and the benefit of hindsight it was quite a stupid move to make. Like I said before the obvious thing to do was make the all-too credible claim that you had just purchased said shirt. But above and beyond even that fact, it is only ONE shirt. They can't trace you to a stash of shirts, and they certainly can't prove anything with what had just happened. Anyway, the parking attendant had only been waving a car into a parking place. Panic strikes again, making a fool out of yet another who would succumb to its thought-clouding ways. Funny story though, when looked at from all sides.
Anyway, there were some successes, and in the end we sold a decent amount, considering. By the time I had a handle on a streamlined mode of operation, and the sales were falling into a frequent pace, kick-off was looming, and the general populace began packing it in. Jay and I decided to make for the game. We went to the ticket booth and asked for the cheapest, nose-bleediest seats available. Thirty-six dollars each was the asking price. We looked at eachother and determined that too much was being asked of us. I suggested hitting up the scalpers haunting the entrance gate not ten feet from where we stood. I got a guy down to twenty for a ticket, but he only had one. Jay came over to me with another dude who was willing to part with a pair of field level 100 dollar tickets for thirty bucks each. SOLD. When we at last achieved our seats we were pleasantly suprised. They were right on the fifty yard line, first section, right in the middle. Not too far back and not too close up where you can't see over all the players on the sidelines. But alas, the game would prove less than capable of living up to such amazing vantage points. In fact, I wish I could erase the sorry spectacle from my mind for good.
The seats were scorchingly hot. I don't know the exact temperature, but sufficeth to say that the day was a hot one, whicever way you looked at it. And our seats had been roasting butt-less for quite some spat of hours before our cheeks came to rest upon them. I wore thin nylon-ish black athletic pants, and let me tell you, they did very little by way of easing the searing pain stabbing my bum. By the time my butt and the shade it provided had cooled the seat to a tolerable degree, some people came over and pointed out to us that we were in the wrong section. We moved to the correct seats, which proved to be even better, but alas the entire process of frying our behinds was commenced anew. I devised a manner of hovering over the seat, bracing myself with my legs and using my lower back to hold me in place. Employing this method I was able to shade the chair until I was finally able to sit in it. But the pain was far from over. I have never witnessed a schlacking so thourough, and so comprehensive in scope. The home team never even showed up. They played the worst game of football ever to stain the gridiron. I am ashamed, hurt, disgusted and apalled by the effort I saw. But life goes on.
Sunburnt, sun-drained, exhausted and appalled, we left during the fourth quarter in hopes of securing some post-game t-shirt sales, even though the Raiders hadn't provided us with much help on that score. It wasn't to be. We decided our adventure had come to a close. I have learned some valuble lessons. I will live to fight another day, and if fortune should allow for me to make another run, I know I will conquer and emerge victorious. I wish I could say the same for the Raiders.
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My Midterm Project Presentation
And so my dream for you came true. This is really really great. It will have its challenges but this is the beginning of new and exciting beginning! This is going to change your life and future. BIG FAT CONGRATS BRIAN! I am so proud of you!
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