Explosive Sales

Just a few minutes later, the first 21-inch Color TV sold for 1,100 yuan.

Fang Bai saw the crowd was lively—even if many were just browsing, there were definitely plenty of genuine buyers.

He hadn't hired any shills, hadn't run any giveaway promotions, and still had plenty of sales tricks up his sleeve, but now it felt unnecessary.

As for an electronics specialty store, that was off the table too.

Plans really couldn't keep up with changes—it was beyond expectations.

By the time his father brought over the repaired TVs, half an hour had passed, and they'd sold three sets in total.

Fang Bai handed the satchel for receipts and cash to his father, personally teaching him how to collect money and write receipts, while also warning him to watch out for counterfeit bills.

Counterfeit money was rampant back then; some unscrupulous people would slip fake notes in among real ones, and if you weren't careful while counting, you'd end up taking them.

The locals had mastered this trick to perfection. Luckily, there weren't any advanced devices yet, and Fang Bai could easily spot fakes—no need to even look, just a touch was enough.

By three in the afternoon, a crowd of one to two hundred people had gathered around the stall, some having gone home to get money and returned.

The tenth TV sold—six of them Color TVs and four black and white—bringing in seven to eight thousand yuan in revenue.

Fang Shi patted the bulging satchel, a gleeful smile on his face, knowing his son would break even today.

Ah, with this kind of red-hot popularity, it was hard not to get rich.

Every time a TV sold, Fang Shi's mood soared, and the wrinkles from his smile deepened.

By four in the afternoon, fifteen TVs had sold, and revenue broke ten thousand yuan.

Fang Bai took most of the cash back. After several hours of sales, he'd observed enough to feel confident leaving the on-site work to his father and the four part-time workers.

Back at the rental, he saw they'd repaired another ten TVs in the past few hours.

Jing Tian spotted Fang Bai returning and, seeing his good mood, asked with a chuckle, "Mr. Fang, how's the sales going?"

The other students working on repairs were also curious about today's results.

Fang Bai smiled slightly. "Not bad."

"If Mr. Fang says it's not bad, then it must be absolutely booming. Congratulations."

"Haha, we'll have a group dinner tonight. Everyone, keep up the effort—don't leave after finishing your tasks; wait for them to come back, and we'll all go eat together." Fang Bai was genuinely in a good mood, having recouped his costs on the very first day, which put him at ease.

Everyone was thrilled to hear about the group dinner, and even those who weren't good at flattery followed Jing Tian's lead.

"Thank you, Mr. Fang, that's so generous."

"Mr. Fang is awesome."

Getting treated by Mr. Fang meant they'd definitely enjoy a hearty meal of meat.

Many of them had poor diets normally, and having had lunch with Mr. Fang at the Small Restaurant, they felt cared for, which warmed their hearts.

Now that Mr. Fang mentioned a group dinner, it was sure to be even better than lunch. Quite a few were already imagining a delicious meat dish.

"Alright, everyone, keep it up."

Hearing their cheerful voices, Fang Bai's smile grew even brighter.

He knew a dinner cost him next to nothing, and such gatherings could boost the team's cohesion and unity.

Yeah, it would make them work even harder.

Students in this era worked with plenty of enthusiasm—even if Fang Bai dangled a carrot, they'd love it, unaware of the world's harshness.

Of course, Fang Bai wasn't keen on feeding them empty promises.

If it were workers from a later generation, they'd silently curse him: Think one meal will make me bust my ass? No way!

Fang Bai returned to his bedroom to plan the sales work for the next few days.

The total number of TVs brought to the stall today was thirty, except for that one 32-inch Color TV kept as a display and not for sale, leaving twenty-nine actually sellable.

By the time he came back, fifteen had already sold, and he was confident they'd move over twenty today.

A surge of joy welled up in Fang Bai's heart—he knew today's sales were a resounding success, beyond his expectations.

There was no need for a specialty store; just setting up a stall in a high-traffic area was the winning move.

What he didn't know was that after he left, it happened to hit the evening rush hour. Passersby saw the TV stall, and the crowd kept growing as more people joined to ask prices.

Some didn't have enough cash and watched wistfully as TVs were carried away, feeling a pang of regret.

Others rushed home to discuss with their families, hoping to secure a TV.

Still others even thought about borrowing from friends or relatives just to buy the set they wanted.

Luckily, before leaving, Fang Bai had written a sign that read: "Last Sale the Day After Tomorrow."

That way, those who hadn't brought enough money or needed to consult had a chance.

Of course, that "Last Sale the Day After Tomorrow" sign would stay up.

To others, it was the final sale; to Fang Bai, it was just the beginning.

Once they sold out, he'd tell those who missed out that there was one last round.

It might cause some misunderstanding in the messaging, but it would make customers open their wallets a bit faster.

Fang Shi saw that there were too many people on site, and some were even scrambling to pay for a TV—two customers nearly came to blows. Faced with this situation, he had to step in and resolve it, but luckily Li Meng smoothly defused the conflict.

At half past five in the afternoon, Fang Bai was reading a book when he suddenly heard footsteps from the stairwell. He looked up and saw his father.

His face was beaming with joy, and the satchel at his waist was bulging.

Fang Bai put down his book and asked with a smile:

"Dad, all sold out?"

"All sold out, packed up and came back. It was such a hot sale that if you hadn't said not to bring any more TVs over, we could've sold another dozen or so."

"If we'd moved more over and sold them, we'd have less stock the day after tomorrow. Dad, we're creating a scene of explosive sales—this is called scarcity marketing. The day after tomorrow is bound to hit a peak. A moderate supply will make consumers think better of us and enhance their buying experience. Those spectators will go back tonight and definitely spread the word for us, saying our TVs are cheap and everyone's grabbing them—buying one means scoring a deal. That way, we'll attract even more customers. After all, we're not in this for a one-off sale; we'll be selling for a long time."

Fang Bai explained patiently. He was teaching his father business principles. Maybe his father was slow on the uptake, but over time, with experience, he could eventually become a top hand in some field.

Most businesspeople in the 1990s weren't highly educated. Many started from street stalls, accumulating experience and wealth, and those who did well became big shots in their industries. His father was a straightforward, honest farmer, usually quiet—unlike his mother, who would smile and greet strangers, a little social butterfly.

"Oh, I see."

Fang Shi seemed to grasp a bit. "Someone wanted to buy that large color TV of ours, offered six thousand. I almost sold it."

"Heh, there really are a lot of rich folks. Let's not sell it for now. I managed to snag that one by luck. If I find another one next time, we can sell it then—good stuff will always find a buyer." Fang Bai said. "I told them we'd have dinner together tonight. Let Li Meng and the other three know. If they don't get the word, they'll head back to school."

"When you left, two customers nearly fought over a TV. Luckily, Li Meng helped calm things down and avoided a conflict. That girl's pretty good."

Fang Bai let out an "oh" and said, "Alright, I know. I'll give her a special reward."

Fang Shi unfastened his satchel and wanted to hand it to his son to check the earnings.

Fang Bai wasn't interested in counting money and told his father to keep it for now. When he went downstairs, he saw Li Meng and the other three hadn't left and mentioned the dinner plans.

Actually, Fang Bai didn't need to say much. Those part-time repair students, seeing Li Meng and the others return, were already saying Mr. Fang was treating everyone to dinner—even more eager than Fang Bai himself.

At six o'clock, the part-timers' shift ended. Fang Bai had his father settle everyone's wages for the day.

Everyone was thrilled to get their money, especially since there was dinner later.

After that, Fang Bai praised Li Meng for mediating the conflict that afternoon, giving her a special reward of ten yuan. He also rewarded the others two yuan each for their support.

Li Meng hadn't expected that just helping to calm things down would earn her a special reward from Mr. Fang, and she felt very happy.

Chen Xiaofang was quite envious of Li Meng and regretted not stepping up to mediate earlier. Still, getting two yuan herself balanced things out in her mind.

Fang Shi, watching his son hand out rewards so generously, was a bit puzzled at first about why he was giving away so much money—couldn't a few words of praise do? But then, thinking about how much he'd earned himself, he figured giving a bit more to the workers wasn't a big deal. His only worry was that his son might keep rewarding people recklessly.

After handing out the money, Fang Bai told everyone to wash up, pack up, and head out for dinner.

Since transportation was inconvenient, Fang Bai chose the same restaurant where they'd had lunch. The meal was just a few heartier dishes added on top, plus drinks and beer.

Everyone sat around the table in the restaurant, enjoying simple food and a cheerful atmosphere.

The dinner went smoothly. They drank freely, and their bonds grew closer.

After the meal, everyone left to go back to school, while Fang Bai and his father returned to their rental.

Fang Bai felt very satisfied, but his father pulled him into the bedroom to tally up the day's sales.

"Dad, can't you just count the money yourself?"

"You need to count your own money and know where you stand. Not even caring how much you earned—you're too carefree, kid." Fang Shi patted his son on the shoulder, but really, he just wanted his son to count the money with him and share in the joy.

"Alright, fine." Fang Bai gave up on his plan to read and was actually curious about the exact earnings.