Behind the Counter: The Best Part of Owning a Card Shop Wasn't What I Expected

When I was first opening Cardera, I had a pretty good idea of what I thought owning a card shop would be like. I imagined ripping new releases, chasing big pulls, buying dope collections, talking trading cards all day, and somehow turning a past hobby into a career. Those things have all become part of the job, and I'm grateful that they have.

What I didn't expect was that the best part of the business would have almost nothing to do with the cards themselves.

It would be the people.

Buying collections has become one of my favourite parts of running the store, not because I'm hoping to secretly discover my next grail, but because every collection comes with a story. Long before we ever talk about value, condition, or market prices, I find myself asking the same question.

"So, how did you get into collecting?"

It's amazing how often that simple question changes the conversation.

Someone who walked in expecting a business transaction suddenly starts telling me about saving allowance money for booster packs, opening Base Set with a sibling, rediscovering Pokémon during COVID, or collecting with their own kids today. You can almost watch them relive those memories as they flip through the binder. For a few minutes, it isn't about selling cards anymore. It's about remembering where the journey started.

Eventually, the conversation always turns to the question that's a little harder to ask.

"So... why now?"

I've learned that every collection has its own reason for walking through the front door, and no two are ever quite the same.

Some of those conversations have been genuinely difficult. I've met people dealing with workplace injuries that forced them away from careers they loved. I've sat across from collectors facing unexpected medical expenses or life circumstances they never imagined they'd have to navigate. In those moments, the cards become something entirely different. They're no longer collectibles sitting in a binder—they're a way to help someone through a challenging chapter of life.

Those conversations stay with you.

Thankfully, there have been just as many stories that leave you smiling on the drive home.

I've had the privilege of buying collections from people using the money to purchase their first home, furnish a new place, pay for a wedding, buy the boat they've always dreamed about, or simply fund the next chapter of their lives. There's something really rewarding about seeing a collection that brought someone years of happiness continue to have value beyond the hobby. It reminds you that these cards can represent more than nostalgia—they can become an opportunity when life moves in a new direction.

What strikes me most is that, despite everyone's circumstances being completely different, there's one thing that's always the same.

Whatever their age, whether they're selling because they have to or because they're ready to move on, every conversation eventually circles back to the same place. It always lands on their favoruite Pokémon, the set they loved opening, recalling the exact moment they ripped their top chase, the card they spent months trying to find, the friend they collected with after school. It all comes back to the memories they've accrued along their journey.

For all our different backgrounds and reasons for collecting, there's something remarkably simple that connects us. We all found joy in these little cardboard rectangles.

That's something I never appreciated until I started meeting collectors every day.

From the outside, it probably looks like we're buying and selling fancy pieces of cardboard for way too much money. From behind the counter, it looks very different. Every binder represents years of memories, weekends spent opening packs, friendships that formed through the hobby, and moments that meant something to someone. The cards have value because of the market, but they have meaning because of the people who owned them.

When I opened Cardera, I thought success would be measured by the money we made, the products we sold, or the milestones we reached as a business.

Now I have an entirely new metric.

I think about the conversations I've had with people I never would have met otherwise. I think about hearing someone's collecting story from beginning to end and helping them close one chapter while knowing those cards will eventually become part of someone else's story. That's a privilege I never expected to have with owning a card shop. One of our core values has always been giving each and every individual their own experience,  regardless if they spend money or not. Reflecting back while writing this article tells me we're doing something right and that success isn't just measured financially, but by the impact we can have on those around us.  

As Cardera continues to grow, I hope that never changes.

I hope I keep meeting collectors from every walk of life. I hope I keep hearing stories about childhood collections, lifelong hobbies, and exciting new beginnings. And if life inevitably brings a few more difficult conversations along the way, I hope there are many more happy ones to balance them out.

You guys are the reason I still get excited every time someone walks through the door. Because while I love the cards, it is the people behind them that have made this journey so rewarding.