So, you’re thinking about the diamond business, huh? Sounds glamorous, right? Sparkly, expensive, all that jazz. Well, let me tell you, what I went through was a bit different from those shiny brochures.
I got this idea, see. I was stuck in a rut, my old job designing user interfaces for a company that sold, I kid you not, bespoke bird feeders, had just gone belly-up. They said “restructuring.” I said “I need to pay rent.” So, there I was, scrolling endlessly online, and these ads kept popping up. “Be your own boss! The glittering world of gems!” It looked so easy.
My Brilliant (Not Really) Plan
First, I dove into research. Which basically meant I watched a bunch of YouTube videos. Guys in fancy suits, loupes in their eyes, talking about the 4 Cs. I thought, “Hey, I’m a smart guy, I can learn this.” So, I scraped together some savings. My wife, bless her, she just raised an eyebrow but didn’t say much. She’s seen me go through phases.
I bought a starter kit. You know, one of those things with a cheap loupe, some tweezers, and a book that probably hadn’t been updated since the 90s. Then, I started looking for “opportunities.” This is where it got murky.
- I tried online wholesalers. Most wanted you to buy huge lots, way out of my league.
- I went to a few local pawn shops, trying to “learn the ropes.” They mostly just looked at me like I was wasting their time. One guy actually laughed.
- I even considered going to one of those “diamond buying events” you see advertised at hotels, but I chickened out. Seemed sketchy.
The biggest problem? Knowing what was real and what wasn’t. I spent hours squinting through that loupe at tiny stones I bought off some obscure website. Were they diamonds? Were they bits of glass? Honestly, half the time I couldn’t tell. My cat seemed more interested in them, probably thought they were new toys.
The “Network”
I managed to connect with a few other folks who were also “in the business.” Or, like me, trying to be. It was a motley crew, let me tell you. There was this one fella, “Big Tony,” who claimed he had “connections.” His connections mostly involved him showing up late and smelling faintly of cheap cologne and desperation. Then there was Sarah, who was convinced she could tell a real diamond by its “aura.” Right.
We’d meet up sometimes, usually in a greasy spoon diner, and “talk shop.” Mostly it was just us complaining about how hard it was. No one seemed to be actually, you know, selling many diamonds. It was all “potential deals” and “waiting on a shipment.”
I remember this one time, I thought I’d struck gold. Bought a small parcel, “investment grade,” the seller told me. I paid more than I should have. I took them to get appraised by someone who actually knew what they were doing. Turns out, they were “industrial grade” at best. Barely worth what I paid for my lunch that day. That was a tough pill to swallow. I had to sell my old comic book collection to cover that loss. My wife definitely said something that time.
So, What Happened?
Well, I didn’t get rich. Shocker, right? I realized pretty quick that the diamond business, the real one, is a closed shop. It’s all about who you know, generations of trust, and massive amounts of capital. Not something a guy with a dodgy starter kit and a dream could just waltz into.
I ended up selling off my little “inventory” for a fraction of what I paid. The loupe sits in a drawer now, a reminder. It’s funny, because a few years later, I got into woodworking. Totally different. You buy wood, you shape it, you make something tangible. If you mess up, it’s on you, not because some shady dealer sold you a piece of fancy glass.
Looking back, that whole diamond thing was like a lot of those “opportunities” you see. They sell you the sizzle, but the steak is tiny, tough, and probably not even beef. I learned that if something sounds too good to be true, it usually is. And sometimes, you just gotta get your hands dirty with something real, not just chase glitter.
