After observing the guy for a few days while doing my research and studies at Sainsbury’s, I realized that shoppers couldn’t be bothered to take the trolleys back to the shop. They just gave them to this guy, and he made a handsome living out of it. It was easy money and a highly effective little business. No police could interfere with him because people gave voluntarily. He did not ask or beg for money, so it was a legitimate business and completely tax-free.
Suddenly, I was more interested in crafting a plan to prevent this person from crossing the street with the trolleys. After more hours and days of observation, I approached the bus stop and concluded that I was being too ambitious. The guy provided a service that built up a social scene. He didn’t just take the money; he entertained people. He knew all the gossip from the area and supplied them with breaking news from his little radio in his pocket. He had the mojo going; they must have known him for ages. All the bus stops function as taxi pickups, and he helped people get on the bus and into the cabs. There was no way I could have competed with this guy, either physically or socially.
Still, there was some money in this, and I needed to find a way to extract it, so I moved my focus to the big car park next to the shop. Within 10 minutes of patrolling the area, I found my first dumped trolley with a one-pound coin left inside. It was an indescribable and super-powerful experience for me.
I couldn’t believe this was happening because, at the time, £1 was a potent amount to me. I had calculated, after my girlfriend told me I couldn’t save on food in this country, that my budget for food was £21.74 for a month—that was the maximum I would spend. I weighed around 82 kg then, so I had a pretty big body to feed on that amount.
According to my calculations of all the items I could buy, it made perfect sense. Buying in bulk, value eggs, basic sausages, essential rice, carrots, and onions were incredibly cheap, and I could survive on those.
Finding that £1 turned out to be a game-changer because, from then on, the car park was the only place to be. Within another 15 to 20 minutes, I found another trolley, so I had £2 in my pocket. Until then, I had been picking up one- and two-pence coins from the street. Now, I had £2 in my bag just by walking around.
After the third trolley popped up on my horizon, I felt like a multi-millionaire. I couldn’t believe my luck, and within half an hour or so, I had made £3—but no quiet! I approached the trolley, and as I proceeded to take it back to the designated area, I experienced a big shove from the side, and my body was sent in a different direction in an unprecedented manner. A tall African lad ripped it from my hands, said something, and took it with him. Generally, I’m not a pushover guy, and I stand my ground. I’d been involved in some brawls in my youth, but he had taken it and disappeared before I grasped what had just happened. My dream of a steady £6 income an hour faded away because there was competition.
I was uneasy, but I probably wouldn’t have had a chance against him anyway, and it wasn’t worth getting into a fight and maybe getting my head smashed in for £1 by a primitive lowlife. I secured £2 in thirty minutes, which was an incredible yield for me.
It would be better to return to the shop to continue my studies. On the way, I realized that this guy worked for Sainsbury’s, and one of his jobs was to take the left-behind trolleys back, and of course, naturally, he could keep the money. He also did some cleaning, but he and his mate worked together legally in the car park.
I couldn’t do anything with the guy across the street because he weighed about 20 stone, and this was his business at the bus stop. Also, he was known by everybody there, so he was untouchable.
But since the car park was straightforward money, I wanted to take advantage of this opportunity. I hung around in the coming days, and I did catch the odd trolley, but those people were very vigilant and caught me most of the time, so I only made a little money. I ran quicker than the tall guy with the duck feet, but the two gave me a hard time.
After a while, I graduated from walking inside the shop because I had memorized all the prices, and I also realized that those little red stickers had a number on them. It made the item very, very cheap, so I moved on from carrots and onions to more sophisticated foods.
Now, I had to find a solution to cover the whole car park quickly and be the first person to reach the dumped trolleys.