Growing up as an inner city kid taught me many lessons. Strategy. Survival. Smarts. And, in my case, that York Peppermint Patties could be a literal game changer.
The Currency of Survival
I grew up in a city aptly named “York” in Pennsylvania during the 1970s. It was a place of stark contrasts where stockpiles of money lived mere blocks away from next to nothing. The disparity between the haves and have-nots wasn’t just visible; it was the defining feature of the landscape. A true urban melting pot where you learned quickly which category you belonged to.
My single mother raised me with love, care, and unwavering support. We were solidly in the have-nots category during those early years. But my mom was smart, enterprising, and educated. These qualities eventually changed our trajectory considerably. I could not be more grateful for her hard work and sacrifices. She taught me that circumstances don’t define you, but how you navigate them does.
An Unexpected Mentor Named Sherilyn
Every morning on my walk to elementary school, I passed the Cadbury factory. It sat in one of the sketchier parts of town, the kind of route where you kept your head up and your pace quick. One morning, I noticed a woman taking a smoke break outside the business office entrance.
I was a curious kid. Maybe too curious for my own good.
“Excuse me,” I asked, “what do you do with the misshapen Peppermint Patties that can’t be sold?”
She looked at me with a mix of amusement and confusion. “Ummm, I don’t know, Sweetie.”
Most kids would have walked away. But I saw an opportunity.
“Do you usually take a break at this time every morning?” I asked.
“I’m out here every morning,” she replied.
“Nice to meet you. I’ll see you tomorrow to hear the answer.”
The Art of the Deal (Elementary School Edition)
The next morning, I found her in the same spot. She had done her homework.
“I’m positive they throw them out if they can’t be sold,” she said.
That’s when I made my pitch. I offered her a dollar from my lunch money every morning in exchange for the “errant Patties,” the misshapen, unsellable ones destined for the dumpster. She agreed.
Looking back, it was probably an unusual negotiation for both of us. A rail-thin elementary school kid bartering for reject candy with a woman on her smoke break. But we both understood the value exchange immediately. She got extra cash for cigarettes. I got currency for a much more important transaction.
Why I Needed a Strategy
Here’s what I haven’t mentioned yet: on my very first day of school, I was beaten up and had my Sony Walkman stolen. I also had candy bars melted and mustard packets opened in my sneakers while I was changing after gym class.
Being rail thin made me an easy target. Being the new kid made me vulnerable. Being from the have-nots side of town meant I had no built-in protection. I needed to change the equation fast.
The young brand marketing strategist in me understood something fundamental: I needed social currency to make friends and avoid more black eyes. In that environment, friendship wasn’t just about companionship‚Äîit was about survival.
The Peppermint Pattie Economy
Almost every morning, I gave Sherilyn a dollar, and she handed me a paper bag containing five unwrapped, full-sized Peppermint Patties. I can still picture her friendly face, that conspiratorial smile as we made our exchange. It was a pleasant ritual, and we were both pleased with the arrangement.
Those Patties became my negotiating chips. My peace offerings. My friendship starter pack.
The strategy worked beautifully. The smooth talking and Peppermint Pattie bribes opened doors. I made friends, real friends. What started as a survival tactic evolved into genuine relationships. I had protection, yes, but more importantly, I had community. I stayed out of trouble and actually enjoyed the rest of my school years.
What a Paper Bag of Candy Taught Me About Strategy
This story isn’t really about candy. It’s about recognizing a problem, identifying available resources, and creating a solution that benefits everyone involved.
- See the gaps: I identified what the factory wasted and what I desperately needed.
- Build relationships: Sherilyn could have said no. Instead, we built trust through consistent, fair exchange.
- Understand value: A dollar meant different things to different people. So did a Peppermint Pattie.
- Create win-win scenarios: The best strategies don’t just benefit you. They create value for everyone at the table.
- Be resourceful with what you have: I didn’t have money, muscle, or connections. But I had a walking route, curiosity, and a willingness to ask questions.
These lessons stayed with me long after I stopped walking past that factory. They shaped how I approach challenges, build relationships, and develop strategies today. Whether I’m working on brand positioning, negotiating partnerships, or navigating complex business problems, I’m still that kid with a paper bag of Peppermint Patties, figuring out how to turn constraints into opportunities.
Sometimes survival requires more than just getting through the day. It requires strategy, creativity, and the courage to ask, “What do you do with the ones you can’t sell?” You never know what might be in that paper bag.