Growing up, I'd sometimes spend the day with my grandmother as she worked at the gift shop. I can still smell the potpourri of cardstock, candies, porcelain, and, well, potpourri.
One of the biggest draws to her store back in the day were Beanie Babies. At their peak, they were gold. It was like The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, with friends turning on each other, overcome by greed.
Such a thing happened to my grandma and me. One of her friends agreed to a trade: one of my Beanie Babies for a specific one of hers: Kiwi the toucan. (I thought toucans were really cool. Still do, actually.) We gave her mine and waited. She had excuses for awhile, but eventually she just stopped returning my grandma's calls.
Pictured: Actual photo of Beanie Baby prospectors at my grandma's gift shop.