There is a little sweet shop on the corner of Clifton and Mildred, just next to College Hill Elementary, that is only open 20-minutes per day—but the owners are raking it in.
By Barry Owens
There is a little sweet shop on the corner of Clifton and Mildred, just next to College Hill Elementary, that is only open 20-minutes per day—but the owners are raking it in. Inc. Candy Store, it is called. Not because it is incorporated. It’s not even a franchise.
“We thought about a second location, but we’d probably have to pay somebody to set up a table on their lawn,” explained Calen Woolbert, 13. “That would cut into our profits.”
The store is owned and operated by Woolbert, and friends Isaac Smith, 13, and Nolan Badgett, 13. The trio attends Robinson Middle School together.
They set up shop, a portable banquet table laden with candy, soda and chips, nearly every weekday on Smith’s lawn just before the bell rings at the nearby elementary school. Prices range from a nickel to 50-cents, though there are occasional specials.
“You can grab a whole handful of these for a dollar,” Smith explained the other day to a customer who was eyeing the bubble gum.
The cash register is a plastic cup, and the days take usually averages around $30.
“I’m saving for a mission trip to Ecuador,” said Woolbert, when he was asked what plans he had for the money.
“I’m just going to keep it,” said Smith.
“I’m going to use mine to buy a Wii,” said Badgett, “If my grandma doesn’t get me one for Christmas.”
“What are you’re going to do with the other $700?” Woolbert wanted to know.
“Wait,” said Badgett. “We’re each going to make a $1,000?”
“Probably,” said Woolbert. “Definitely.”
The company started late last year and mostly dealt in Kool-Aid.
“Mom didn’t like that too much,” said Dan Smith, Isaac’s father (he often supervises). “They would mix it up in the kitchen and leave a mess.”
These days the store carries items mostly purchased from a wholesale club.
“Next week we’re getting Pepsi products,” Woolbert explained to a few of the regulars who often hang around the counter.
“They’re young entrepreneurs,” said Marta Woolbert, Calen’s mother, as she dropped him off at the store. The boys had come on this day with a new sign.
“Inc Candy Store,” it read in handdrawn, peppermint like swirls. The name is in anagram of the boy’s first initials.
“You’re getting very professional,” a parent and apparent store regular noted, eyeing the new sign.
The sign also included a price list of the candy, and an advertising tag line: “It’s the stuff that makes you go ‘Shapoonka!’ ”
The boys had no ready explanation for what that meant. “We were hyper,” it was finally explained.
Had they been eating the candy?
“No,” said Woolbert, suddenly serious. “We don’t eat our profits.”
