Last week, I sat inside Rick Harrison’s pawn shop in Las Vegas—yes, the shop from Pawn Stars.

This isn’t a normal shop. It’s a landmark. Tourists line up outside just to peek inside. The TV show has been running for over 20 seasons, almost 750 episodes.

In TV years, that’s basically immortality.

The air was a mix of dust, money, and stories. Stories of people who walked in broke, desperate, embarrassed, or sometimes just curious.

Stories of objects that outlived their owners and ended up here, waiting to be turned into cash.

Everywhere I looked there was another absurd and beautiful one: a Civil War coin that once traveled across the Atlantic before being melted down into another country’s money. A cowboy hat worn by a gangster who made Las Vegas what it is. Samurai swords that could’ve killed a man 400 years ago. A rocket engine touched by Neil Armstrong.

“Every object is a story,” said Rick.

Some are true, some are exaggerated, some are lies that people told themselves so often they started to believe them.

And Rick? He’s the curator, the dealer, the confessor. He knows what’s fake, what’s real, and what’s just sentimental dust. Better than anyone else, at least.

In many ways, Rick’s a curator of stories.

That’s fascinating.

But there’s an even bigger reason I’m fascinated by his job.

The Best Business Model Ever

He calls pawn shops “the oldest form of banking.”

I didn’t know this:

Seven million households in America don’t have a bank account. That number shocked me. Even more shocking? About 20% of adults can’t get one.

If you’ve ever bounced too many checks, there’s a secret system banks use to blacklist you. You’re done. No account. No ATM card.

So where do you go when you need cash? A pawn shop.

Rick explains the math like it’s the simplest thing in the world. You bring in a Rolex worth ten grand. You only need $500 for the weekend. He gives you $500.

You come back a month later, pay him $550, and you get your watch back. Ten percent interest. If you don’t come back? He just keeps the Rolex. No collections, no lawsuits, no angry phone calls.

Done.

That’s it. That’s the whole model. And it’s been running since before credit cards, before ATMs, before “banking hours” ruled your life.

And it’s the best business model ever.

It’s like banking, but without the lawyers, the regulators, and the risk. It’s simple, ancient, cash-based, and designed to win no matter what.

It’s actually better than banking because it thrives where banks fail. It serves people who need it most. And it turns bad luck, history, and story into good luck—over and over again.

It’s an infinite luck machine.

How Stigma Killed the Pawners

Pawn shops used to be normal. Up until the 1950s, they were the number one form of consumer credit. Charlie Chaplin’s breakout movie was The Pawn Broker.

Then came the stigma. The 60s and 70s painted pawn shops as dens of desperation.

Today, people still hesitate to buy a diamond ring there—even though the same “new” diamond at Tiffany’s may very well have passed through Rick’s counter in Las Vegas.

Pawn shops feed the retail jewelry industry. And the irony is: people still think they’re “too good” to shop at one.

Lessons From Las Vegas

Rick loves history. You can’t do this job without loving history. Coins, books, swords, art, watches—they all carry the DNA of a time and place.

He also loves the hustle. He doesn’t need the money anymore. He just likes doing it.

He calls himself weird. He sleeps four hours a night. But I think he just loves being in the middle of all these stories.

The pawn shop isn’t really about stuff.

It’s about the thin line between value and story, money and memory, reality and illusion.

“Every object is a story,” Rick said.

But the real story I loved was Rick himself: a man who built a business on the things we can’t keep, the memories we have to sell, and the history we never knew we were holding in our hands.

Click here to listen to the whole show.

You won’t regret it.