Suckers Not in Short Supply

Friday, August 6, 2004

Page 15

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

Suckers Not in Short Supply

By J’AMY PACHECO

A long time ago, somebody said there is a “sucker born every minute.” That may be true, but I’ve come to the conclusion that a more frequent occurrence is the appearance of someone ready, willing and able to exploit those suckers.

Last weekend, I took my daughter to the Orange County Fair. We made the 90-minute trek because we missed our local county fair a few months ago, having been in the middle of a move when it rolled into town.

Orange County’s fair made ours look like a country cousin. The startlingly blue Costa Mesa sky provided a dramatic backdrop for the colorful rides and games; a sharp contrast to the dusty brown fairgrounds in my desert community.

As we strolled the midway, I noticed even the carnival game barkers appeared more upscale, dressed in matching shirts and sporting mouths that appeared to have experienced regular dental work. There was nary a missing tooth among them.

Carnival games are a big attraction for us, and this fair had no shortage of them. The cost surprised me—$3 to $5 per game is a lot of money to spend for an eight-year-old with little strength and lousy aim.

But I bought my daughter a $5 basket of ping-pong balls, and she happily threw them into a flotilla of colored bowls that rotated on circulating water. She managed to land one in a red bowl and received her prize: a tiny stuffed heart with a Strawberry Shortcake logo on the top. She had a great deal of fun playing the game, so I considered it money well spent.

The next game was one in which my daughter had to try to hit the inside of a small star with a dart. As he pocketed my $5, the game attendant assured me that even if she missed, she’d get a prize.

Of course, she missed, and this fast-talking guy offered to let her have any toy she wanted—if she could hit that toy with another dart. She could, he explained, have her pick of the stuffed animals—none of which could have cost more than a dollar or two to buy, if that.

The catch? Each time he pointed to a larger animal, Mr. Motormouth demanded “another five.” What his deal boiled down to was that he would let my little gamester have any toy she wanted, as long as I left his booth $20 poorer.

He appeared to be quite disappointed when I assured him my daughter would be happy with the smallest prize and left the booth having parted with a mere $5.

Each time we passed a game booth, barkers called out to us. Each promised a “free” toy if the player didn’t win. It occurred to me that those matching shirts and dental work were likely paid for by parents compelled to pay $20 for a $2 stuffed animal, and we passed most of them by.

It reminded me of an event that occurred many years ago, when my husband and I honeymooned in the Dominican Republic. A man stopped us on a seaside walk and offered to exchange our American money for the local currency.

He offered a favorable exchange rate, but soon started folding and unfolding the offered money and keeping up a fast banter that put us on guard. When he cautioned that the “authorities” were watching and pressed us to complete the transaction, we had the belated good sense to walk away.

But you don’t have to go to a carnival midway or a third-world country to be suckerized.

A few days ago, I read an article about a surge in people getting adjustable rate mortgages for their homes. The article suggested that many of the people who obtain these fluctuating loans are those who can least afford an increase in payments, but many apparently don’t fully understand the terms of their deal until they face the heartache of impossibly high payments.

Last fall, I bought a car. The salesman said all kinds of promising things throughout our negotiations. But when it came time to put my signature on the dotted line, he made one thing clear: it didn’t matter what he’d said; the only thing that counted was the document I was about to sign. He appeared surprised and dismayed when I sat down to read and analyze every word of the contract.

I don’t know if suckers and suck-ees are born or made, but I do know this: whether you’re in a dusty desert town, an upscale beach community or third world country, you’ll find them both.

Usually, together.