I'm going to respond to your post by dovetailing into a response I posted in another thread that you started. Here is a part of the backstory of the history behind Market Harmony, and what sets up the rest of the story below:
viewtopic.php?f=17&t=41489&p=319888#p319783So, the way my journey went from potential hedge manager to coin dealer was not at all what I had expected, and probably not what anyone might expect, either. After basically losing all that I had as a stock trading newb, I defiantly stuck to researching potential markets in which to speculate. And, since I dabbled in the gold and silver market privately and on a small scale, and had watched the value of them increase, I decided to rebuild myself by trading metals. I successfully began trading gold and silver electronically. After some time though, I wanted physical bars of silver and gold to hold. I started with silver and was hooked. I still have my first 2 purchases: I first bought two 10 oz Golden Analytical silver poured bars and a set of Franklin Mint sterling silver ship bars in a display case. The 10 oz bars are socked away in a drawer and the ships hang above my small office bookshelf... I'll probably never get rid of either of these. The poured bars remind me of the inspiration I had to try melting my own bars (starting with copper and then other metals) and the ships because I got them for less than melt and I learned that I could scour Ebay and get better deals for less-than-pure silver and then melt that stuff down for refining and make money in the process. That led to the refining end of Market Harmony. But, this is not why I am responding. I want to tell you about why I am a coin dealer. And, it is a bit of a war story.
In my zeal to begin to acquire gold and silver in physical form I had decided to go to a coin show in Monroeville, PA. I had heard an advertisement on the radio and got all excited by the ad for "gold and silver bullion and coin, and hundreds of dealers, and no sales tax" right at the time I was back on my feet and really getting into the market for metals. I made a decision to take my checkbook and head to the show. I had grand ideas of what was about to happen and how awesome the experience was going to be. What I got was nothing at all what I expected, but exactly what I needed.
At the show I witnessed a lot of activity. There was
a lot of buying and selling and I began to see the spreads involved. Dealers were buying silver bars at $2 back of spot and selling for $3 over spot... and they were BUSY! I was lurking at an especially busy table when a gentleman approached the dealer with a bag of 10 oz poured bars and inquired of price. He did not like the offer and as soon as he stood up from the table to leave I approached him to see if he would sell them to me. He agreed on my price and we decided to go to the lounge area to seal the deal. Unbeknownst to me, but known to this gentleman, what we were doing was against the "rules" of conduct at coin shows... No sniping, and no floor dealing.
He was very suspicious of dealing with me and secretive in his actions. We couldn't be seen leaving together and we needed to act quickly when the deal was on the table. When that time came and I pulled out my checkbook, he said he only wanted cash. Ugh! He didn't tell me that upfront. So, in order to make it all happen I had to withdraw from my checking account the amount of the deal. The problem was that the ATM limited transactions to $300. And, each transaction would cost $3.50 for the ATM fee and some additional fee from my own bank because I was withdrawing from a non-bank ATM. But, after figuring all the costs, it still made sense to make the deal happen. After many withdrawals and fees piling up, I finally was able to get enough cash for the deal. Little did I know that our activity was tipped off by the table dealer, and I was under surveillance the whole time. When the deal between the gentleman and I was about to meet its final transactional end, it was interrupted by my day in the coin show coming to an end instead. Before I got back to the seller, security approached me and escorted me from the building. I was burned.
Dejected and fuming, I was then pacing the parking garage with a wad of $20 bills bulging in my pocket, reminding me of the deal gone bad. I stayed there for a while, watching people come and go. Some were holding canvas bags of 90%, some had boxes of unknown goodies, some were pulling large stashes from their car trunks so big that the shocks would spring the car up a few inches when they pulled it from the vehicle. Everyone else was either entering hopeful or leaving satisfied. But me, well I was a coin show parking garage silver junkie. I was trying to get my fix of silver bullion from one of these lucky folks- attempting to snipe deals before they ever went in the door! It was low. But, I didn't even know how low I truly was.
I was justified in my own mind that I should be getting those deals... I had the money (now in $20 bills), and my prices were better than what was inside. Nobody would deal with me. I failed to realize that the dealers who paid their table fees and took the time to set up at the show rightfully earned the opportunity to deal with all the people who heard the same ads on the radio or read them in the paper; who wouldn't have transacted that day unless they knew there was a marketplace where 100's of dealers would all congregate; and who wanted to transact with a vetted enterprise. I was some silver junkie, kicked out of a coin show, trying to score a parking garage fix by asking people, "what's in the bag?" Looking back, it's really laughable to me. It was ridiculous. That low was just what I needed.
Without this experience and the resulting new understanding of coin show dynamics, I would have never decided to try setting up at coin shows myself. Becoming a "dealer" was what I was supposed to be. Sitting on the other side of the table meant that I made my own buy and sell spreads. It meant that I was supposed to be there to make deals happen. I was then able to truly compete and get access to those deals that make vehicle suspensions sag, or come in a clandestine canvas bag, or even get pulled out of hidden pockets. Becoming a coin dealer was just what I was supposed to do. But I never knew this until retrospectively examining just how wonderfully I fumbled along the path to become who I am.