Money for nothing - get-rich-quick schemes

Washington Monthly, April, 1993 by Art Levine

Unfortunately, my own trip to Hawaii seemed likely to be delayed for a while. I visited the manager of one store that specialized in typewriters and broached the idea of selling him discounted typewriters from the government. He shook his head and chuckled derisively. "Do you think I'd buy that beat-up crap from you?" he said. "I can call up a wholesaler this afternoon and order equipment that I know will be in good condition. The only reason they're selling those crappy typewriters at auctions is because no other agency in the government wanted them."

It's that kind of negative thinking that can make getting rich difficult. But, I was still optimistic, since the Milins had agreed to put up the money if I found a deal with at least $10,000 in profit potential. What could be easier? So I borrowed a friend's car and drove to Ft. Belvoir in suburban Virginia to prospect for bargains. My heart pounded with excitement as I walked into a huge corrugated white hangar filled with the discount merchandise that could change my life. I soon realized, though, that I was faced with an odd assortment of what seemed to be mostly abandoned electronic equipment brought back from Iwo Jima.

But soon I found the kind of bargains I was looking for. The first item was a large green metal object called a "spectroscope" that had been manufactured by the prestigious Bausch and Lomb company. I didn't know what a spectroscope was, but the government had originally purchased it for nearly $11,000, and that was good enough for me. If I offered just a few dollars for it and re-sold it to a lab, I could make more than $10,000 for just a few minutes of work. But that was a mere pittance compared to what seemed to be at least $70,000 worth of data management software in the corner of the hangar. The Marine Corps had originally paid more than $100,000 for the software, PC Focus, and now there were 142 unopened boxes being sold; each box was worth as much as $500 wholesale, I later learned. All I had to do was line up a wholesaler willing to buy the software, and I'd be rolling in money. For a few hours of work, I could earn $80,000 or so for the spectroscope and computer software just by using the research and verbal skills I'd honed as a low-paid journalist.

But first I had to learn how much the software and spectroscope were actually worth. With a few phone calls to a naval research center, I found a scientist who had actually worked in the lab where the spectroscope had been installed. Paydirt! The machine had been used to analyze metals, he explained. But then he elaborated: It was a vintage item from the forties that had long been supplanted by more modern equipment. No one knew if it even worked. "It might make a nice addition to the Smithsonian," he said.

But I could still make a killing with the computer software. I called the leading distributor of PC Focus and learned that the company indeed had some interest in buying the deeply discounted software from me. I couldn't believe my luck. I rushed out to my car, excited by all the money I'd soon be making--and then accidentally drove over a cement parking barrier, damaging the underside of my friend's car. The $140 I had to pay her was, I knew, a small price to pay for the tens of thousands I'd score on this software coup.