Mango Boys: A Story of Three Generations of Hustling

By Christopher Wedge, Co-Founder | 9/10/21

 

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"Dad, can you buy me a gaming computer?"

 

As a parent, it can be hard to have to say "no" to our children. My first parental instinct has always been to provide for them. But like most, the pandemic had hit us hard on so many levels. Virtual learning was virtually impossible for my son, Eli, who was already struggling academically prior to the pandemic. There was also financial uncertainty, and then the isolation...

 

I knew Eli's request was the result of a desire to connect with his best friend, Aiden, through online gaming. His school-issued laptop often crashed when running Roblox, which was typically followed by extreme meltdowns—the kind that you know as a parent are about more than a single event.

 

But I couldn’t just buy him an $800 computer—especially not during these times. I had no clue when we would be able to restart SOPFC leagues. (14 months in case anyone was counting with me!) I also didn’t want to just buy our way out of a problem. Eli desperately wanted a computer, but even if I could buy him one, my guiding principle as a parent has always been to teach my kids how to manage life without me.

 

I didn't need to look any further than my own childhood to find the solution to our problems. If there is one lesson life has taught me, it’s that there is always a win to be gained out of any loss. The pandemic might have shut down our leagues for a time, but it gave me the time to teach my son a time-honored tradition in our family.

 

“You want the computer. You’ve got to come up with the money for half of it. It’s time you learn to hustle, son.”

 

Wedge twisting balloons for sale as a kid
At 10 years old I could twist balloons with the best of them, but was still shy and learning the craft of showmanship.

 

When I was a child, no one could ever have told me my family was poor growing up in America, because I had seen real poverty while visiting relatives in Ecuador: cousins fighting over the odd piece of chicken in the pot of soup, or hiding under the table sampling the sweet bread my mom bought at the panaderia before they were allowed to eat it. But when I spent summers with my dad, everyone in the world must have thought we were poor, including my cousins.

 

Hitchhiking from town to town, my dad and I worked as balloon artists at carnivals or festivals. That’s right, clown carnies, camped out on the side of the road like gypsies, a label my father proudly self identified with. For a 10-year-old kid though, these were epic times, evading town sheriffs and oddball carnies in our search of treasure. My treasure was unlimited rides on the roller coasters of the fair grounds, and the giant Super Soaker with the backpack tank, a top prize at one of the booths. It was at that young age that my father taught me how to hustle, in an environment like no other: kids with sugar-induced madness, parents with a tight grip on their cash, and plenty more crazy carnies looking for their own treasure.

 

Eli making his first sale at the soccer field
Eli’s first sale! A blue Powerade from a BOGO deal at Publix.

 

Eli finally got the perfect opportunity to start his hustle when we were able to resume pickup games wearing masks. I lent him a bank and fronted the money for his COGS (cost of goods sold); we were running a tight operation, so no money for fixed costs like logos or uniforms. I just wanted to help him make a decent number of sales to spark his interest. After each night, I would review the numbers with Eli and his now business partner, Aiden. And oh did they have a taste for business! They were so disappointed to realize that the 40 bucks they collected wasn't profit, because, as both of them can clearly state now, “Profit = Revenue - Cost.”

 

They learned quickly though.

 

It wasn’t until Eli demanded we hike up the price of hot chocolate that I was concerned I might have created a monster. I explained that revenue was a product of both price and quantity of goods sold. Beyond profit, we also had to think of our relationship with the players we had become friends with. If we were going to charge more we also needed to add value. He kept insisting how much people loved the hot chocolate and would pay more, so we compromised: since the hot chocolate packets we were buying came with subpar mini marshmallows, we decided to keep the price of hot chocolate the same, but only buy the kind without marshmallows, and then offer big puffy delicious marshmallows as a 50-cent add-on. We also would offer whip cream for the same price as the marshmallows.

 

Success! We started selling even more hot chocolates, and most people got the add-ons too.

 

Fabricio drinking hot chocolate at the soccer field
Not only is Fabricio in the Century Club (over 100 pickups and counting), but he’s the hot chocolate connoisseur of SOPFC.

 

I still had my doubts if he had learned the real lesson though. His instincts were right that players would pay more, but could he see the bigger picture? I explained that although we sold a lot more hot chocolate, it cost us much more than bottled water, which we were selling for $2 at the time, and the profit margin wasn’t as good. “How much does water cost us?” he asked. “How much are we selling it for? How many do we sell?” After answering him he immediately replied, “Oh, we should lower it to a dollar.” That’s when I knew he got it. He was beginning to understand pricing strategy better than many adult entrepreneurs I have mentored. He may struggle in school, but he was a fast learner at the pitch.

 

With winter gone, so went the hot chocolate. Summer demanded something cool and refreshing. Enter virgin mango mojitos. That’s right, fresh mint and mango juice from the Dekalb Farmers Market combined with a splash of soda water for a refreshing crispness. If you see Eli and Aiden, aka Mango Boys, in their tie dye uniforms, you better grab one fast—they typically sell out!

 

Mango Boys and players drinking virgin mango mojitos at the soccer field
Celebrating a win at Washington High School with a virgin mango mojito for the whole team.

 

Eli has already made more than enough money for his computer, but in the pursuit of his goal he gained so much more. Today, you are just as likely to see him hustling with his best friend at SOPFC pickup and league games as you are to see them playing video games. He even self identifies as a “seller.” For a kid who often worried about being “smart enough,” he isn’t lacking any confidence.

 

Hustling is often born out of a feeling of necessity that is so strong it borders on panic. There’s no time to wait to act. No thought given to how smart you think you are or what you might look liked dressed up in a tie dye outfit or modeling balloons. Actively pursuing that intrinsic need builds a mental bridge between actions and results. This feedback loop fosters a growth mindset in young students that develops confidence and fosters a sense of grit and perseverance. It’s an experience I wish all students could have, especially those who struggle with more traditional learning styles.

 

Or in the wise words of Outkast: “You need to git up, git out and git somethin. Don't let the days of your life pass by.”

 

Mango Boys Eli and Aiden at the soccer field
Sold out within an hour thanks to the Mansoor clan of Pickup All-Stars.