One day in 1984, an old gentleman walked into my
Portland shop with storm
clouds darkening his face. He cuts to the chase: he needed money, so what am I paying for junk
My current buy price was $10 for coins VG and better. He says, “fine – pay me – I have 200 junk silver dollars in this bag.”
“But wait,” I say, “we need to look at the coins. Perhaps there are coins worth more than junk price in your bag.” The gent blusters with serious attitude; he insists the coins are junk, and wants the money RIGHT NOW!