The hype is the name of a classic con game that, for a person with the right mix of audacity and native wit will reliably net $9 for around five minutes of work and $11 of working capital. Falling under a class of cons known as "raising change," the hype been in use for over 100 years with different names and variants. The beauty of this income earning strategy is that it will work as long as cash and cashiers exist.
The ideal setting for the hype is a heavily-trafficked gas station or mini mart -- a busy, distracted clerk will play to this con's strength. The object of the game is to create a change making problem so confusing that the clerk will defer to you for the solution. The apathetic clerk will go along because you’re a pain in the ass. A more conscientious clerk will need to trust or feel sympathy for you.
Here’s are the mechanics of the game, which you’ll need to know inside-out:
Step 1 - make the purchase
Complexity - In essence, you're creating a problem (the complicated transaction) for the clerk and then coming to his aid by solving the problem (telling him how to make change). The more confusion you create surrounding the transaction, the more open the clerk will be to your help. Weaving distracting numbers into your conversation with the clerk can be effective ("See my car out there? It's a '79. My dad bought it for my eighteenth birthday. You got a car? A Subaru? What year? Oh yeah, how much you pay for that?"). Manufacturing a side problem that causes the transaction to start and stop a couple of times can also make the math harder to keep track of (you've got to check on your dog/kid in the car, somebody's nagging at you from the car).
Rapport - The more you bond with the clerk or ellicit his sympathy, the more willing he will be to look to you for help -- you two friends will face this adversity together! If you're the type who makes friends easily, just intersperse your usual chit-chat with the steps above. If the clerk likes you, he will focus on your conversation, and naturally want to help with the change problem.
Clerks need one dollar bills -- they're always running out because they're making change. It's easy to make step 2 and 3 all about thoughtfully letting the clerk keep his change. Another rapport strategy is to tell the story of why you need the ten dollar bill. It has sentimental value because it's the ten dollar bill your dearly departed dad gave you twenty years ago the first time you mowed the lawn. Or you forgot that you wrote an important telephone number on it because you were short a scrap of paper earlier today. Whatever the story, it should make the clerk feel like he's helping you by giving it back.
Your Exit: The clerk will have a knawing feeling that something wasn't right about the transaction. He will be struggling with the math in order to explain the problem to you and correct it before you leave, which means a quick, distracting exit is best. The easiest way is to have a second person with you who, after the deal goes down, demands you hurry in aggressive, personal terms (e.g., "Dammit Jim, I told you I needed to pee ten minutes ago"). The clerk will relent because you obviously have other trouble to deal with.
And there you have it -- a few minutes of work and you've got enough extra folding money to purchase that New Testament Bible you've had your eye on or even a nice little flower arrangement for your mother's birthday!
While I don't advocate cheating gas station clerks, the mechanics of the game are just the kind of esoteric knowledge the Hoole Intelligence Report is here to preserve. The hype first came to my attention a decade ago when I was a victim of it myself. "I think I gave you some extra money," I called after my con man, hoping that he'd agree and correct the mistake. To my surprise, the formerly jovial fellow's body tensed up as if he was preparing for a fight. "You calling me thief? I'm a Christian!," he yelled. I let the strange wisdom of this statement sink in as he drove off into the night with my nine dollars.
The ideal setting for the hype is a heavily-trafficked gas station or mini mart -- a busy, distracted clerk will play to this con's strength. The object of the game is to create a change making problem so confusing that the clerk will defer to you for the solution. The apathetic clerk will go along because you’re a pain in the ass. A more conscientious clerk will need to trust or feel sympathy for you.
Here’s are the mechanics of the game, which you’ll need to know inside-out:
Step 1 - make the purchase
- You purchase a small ticket item like a pack of gum and pay with a ten dollar bill.
- The clerk makes change and gives it to you.
- You remember you have smaller change to pay with, apologize, and offer to pay with it instead.
- You say “give me back the $10 and I'll give you a five and five ones.
- The clerk hands over the ten dollar bill.
- You give back the nine dollars.
- The clerk requests $1 to make it $10.
- You say "how much do you have there?"
- The clerk says $9.
- You say “why don't I just give you $11 and you give me back a $20?”
- The clerk thinks this sounds perfectly reasonable and takes your $11 in exchange for a $20.
Complexity - In essence, you're creating a problem (the complicated transaction) for the clerk and then coming to his aid by solving the problem (telling him how to make change). The more confusion you create surrounding the transaction, the more open the clerk will be to your help. Weaving distracting numbers into your conversation with the clerk can be effective ("See my car out there? It's a '79. My dad bought it for my eighteenth birthday. You got a car? A Subaru? What year? Oh yeah, how much you pay for that?"). Manufacturing a side problem that causes the transaction to start and stop a couple of times can also make the math harder to keep track of (you've got to check on your dog/kid in the car, somebody's nagging at you from the car).
Rapport - The more you bond with the clerk or ellicit his sympathy, the more willing he will be to look to you for help -- you two friends will face this adversity together! If you're the type who makes friends easily, just intersperse your usual chit-chat with the steps above. If the clerk likes you, he will focus on your conversation, and naturally want to help with the change problem.
Clerks need one dollar bills -- they're always running out because they're making change. It's easy to make step 2 and 3 all about thoughtfully letting the clerk keep his change. Another rapport strategy is to tell the story of why you need the ten dollar bill. It has sentimental value because it's the ten dollar bill your dearly departed dad gave you twenty years ago the first time you mowed the lawn. Or you forgot that you wrote an important telephone number on it because you were short a scrap of paper earlier today. Whatever the story, it should make the clerk feel like he's helping you by giving it back.
Your Exit: The clerk will have a knawing feeling that something wasn't right about the transaction. He will be struggling with the math in order to explain the problem to you and correct it before you leave, which means a quick, distracting exit is best. The easiest way is to have a second person with you who, after the deal goes down, demands you hurry in aggressive, personal terms (e.g., "Dammit Jim, I told you I needed to pee ten minutes ago"). The clerk will relent because you obviously have other trouble to deal with.
And there you have it -- a few minutes of work and you've got enough extra folding money to purchase that New Testament Bible you've had your eye on or even a nice little flower arrangement for your mother's birthday!
While I don't advocate cheating gas station clerks, the mechanics of the game are just the kind of esoteric knowledge the Hoole Intelligence Report is here to preserve. The hype first came to my attention a decade ago when I was a victim of it myself. "I think I gave you some extra money," I called after my con man, hoping that he'd agree and correct the mistake. To my surprise, the formerly jovial fellow's body tensed up as if he was preparing for a fight. "You calling me thief? I'm a Christian!," he yelled. I let the strange wisdom of this statement sink in as he drove off into the night with my nine dollars.
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