The perils of capitalism

Summertime…. Cookouts, fireflies, no school, and … lemonade stands.

A lemonade stand exemplifies the quintessential, innocent, kids’ summer experience: cute little boys and girls set up a flimsy table on the side of the neighborhood street, put up a handmade sign, and, not yet warped by the mean, real world, assume that everyone will pay 25 cents for a homemade lemonade in a paper cup.

Yesterday, being low on cash, the 11-year-old decided to man a lemonade stand. He mixed the Country Time that I had just purchased all by himself, carted the table out to the street’s corner, schlepped along some cups, put up a sign, and waited.

Ten minutes later, he came strolling back into the house, relaxed as could possibly be.

“Ahhh, yeah,” he gloated, “nothin’ like owning your own company.”

He saw the perplexed look on my face, prompting further explanation.

“Yup, I just hired myself some employees… and now I can just sit back and do nothing while they work. Just rake in the bucks while I chill.”

My perplexed look didn’t go away.

“Yeah…" he continued to explain, "I just told the other kids I’d pay ‘em 20% of my sales, and they'll sit by the stand all day while I’m in the air conditioning. Yup. It’s nice to have a labor force.”

My perplexed look morphed from one of perplexity to one of contemplation and possible horror. While kind of impressed with his entrepreneurial spirit, I didn’t want to condone corporate greed, snobbery, lethargy, or irresponsibility.

“Perhaps,” I suggested, “since you find yourself making some money while doing nothing, you could think of an activity to pursue while they’re working so that you’re doubly productive?”

“Hey! What a great idea!” he was into this. “I can set up a rival lemonade stand right next to the one I already started! I’ll have the monopoly and people will have to buy from me!”

“That’s not quite what I had in mind,” I lamented, still ashamedly proud of his business savvy.

Because a mom’s opinion doesn’t carry much weight in 11-year-old’s corporate matters, he went ahead and started a competing stand just across the street from the first one.

I did what most overworked, tired parents did; I buried my head in the sand, whispered “la la la la la la” to myself, and ignored it.

I then rode past the two lemonade stands for a 14-mile cycling workout. “Back in an hour!” I shouted.

When I returned, I was immediately updated by the 13-year-old: “Mom! Mom! He fired the workers from the first stand and they’re running the other stand now!”

“hmmmm,” I reacted brilliantly. “Why did he fire them?”

“Oh, I dunno… I think they got bored and walked away or somethin’ – hey – wanna buy a lemonade?” Apparently they got disgruntled, formed a labor union, and went to work for the competition.

“Sure,” I chuckled, “but I don’t have any money on me.”

“That’s okay,” he allowed, “you can pay me later.”

The 11-year-old shouts toward me from across the street: “Hey! You’re buying lemonade from them? Our lemonade is 5 cents cheaper AND we give you more!”

“Oh, uh. Yeah. Lemme do my silly running drills and then I’ll swing by and buy one from you, k?”

I did, indeed, go to buy a second cup of lemonade from the other stand. When I explained I didn’t have any money on me, the 11-year-old (yes... my son) hesitated. “You can’t pay us right now?”

“No, buddy,” I answered, “I’ll pay you when we get home. Plus – remember – I paid for the original goods and the overhead.”

“hmmm. Well, uh….” Apparently he was not accepting credit.

After taking down my social security number, he relented and allowed me to have the lemonade I didn’t want in the first place.

In the end, I think we all learned valuable lessons: 1) Lemonade stand labor unions need a bit more oversight. 2) Competition seems to increase sales. People stopped at both stands out of pity and paid for more than one lemonade. 3) Capitalism is alive and well and practiced readily by 5 to 13-year-olds.