I was up for a challenge, and it was all about survival, so I didn’t take prisoners. At 11 p.m., after the shop closed and everyone had gone home, I rode down with a small torch and investigated the money mechanism on the trolley. The mechanisms were secured with Allen screws. The next day, I returned to the £1 shop and bought a little toolkit that included Phillips and flat screwdrivers, a ratchet set from 8mm to 13mm, and a nice Allen key set—all for just £1.
That evening, precisely at 11 p.m., I went back. I pulled a trolley out of the trolley house, pushed it into the bushes, and unscrewed the coin mechanism, taking the chain and the key with me. By midnight, I was back home, eager to examine my new find. With my college education, I had a good understanding of mechanics in addition to electronics. I studied the mechanism and realized all I needed was a file. Unfortunately, I didn’t have one.
I snuck into my landlord’s bathroom and found a nail file lying on the sink, likely left by one of his visitors. I repurposed it, using it to file down the trolley key that operated the slot mechanism. The nail file wasn’t designed for metal, but as the saying goes, “use the difficulty.” You work with what you have and make the most of it—that’s the motto for success in life. By 6 a.m., I had finished. I had filed the key into a shape that allowed me to push it in, release the money, and pull the key back out.
At 7 a.m., I rode to Sainsbury’s armed with my new tool. By 10 a.m., I had £30 in my pocket. The process was swift and efficient: I rode up to a trolley, inserted the key, collected the money, and moved on.
This system was incredibly effective. From a distance, I could tell which trolleys didn’t have money in them, so I bypassed them without wasting time. Meanwhile, the two lads with flat feet had to jog or walk to each trolley, often discovering there was no money in them after all. I left the trolleys scattered across the car park, creating chaos. Imagine their frustration when they saw 20 trolleys strewn over two acres, with only one containing money. Since their job was to return the trolleys to the designated area, they had to collect them all regardless, but they gained nothing for their efforts.
As a result, they started chasing me around the car park. However, I was faster, more agile, and more aggressive. I weaved between cars like a snake sliding through stones, while they, being tall, bulky, and clumsy, struggled. Their lack of balance was laughable—they resembled a chubby 10-month-old baby trying to walk. In their attempts to catch me, they broke car mirrors left and right.
We played this cat-and-mouse game for a while, but I didn’t want to push my luck. I understood that if they caught me, I’d get a proper beating, so I didn’t visit every day. Instead, I popped in sporadically and collected my money.
Eventually, my motivation began to wane. I had beaten them—outsmarted them both mentally and physically. They had nothing left in it for them. I had won the game.
With the release key, I could have easily made £200 a day, not just in the car park but also with another idea I had for inside the shop. However, I’m not a criminal, so I didn’t pursue that route. For those who can read between the lines, there’s no need for me to elaborate on my “other idea.”