The 1890s Klondike Gold Rush and the supply-seller economy

In 1897, 100,000 people abandoned their lives for the Klondike Gold Rush, hiking through frozen mountains for a rumor of shiny rocks. It was a masterclass in mass delusion, ending with most miners broke and eating their own boots.

The real winners weren't digging; they were selling. While miners chased ghosts, savvy merchants charged $5 for a single egg—roughly $170 today.

This is the "picks and shovels" strategy. When everyone rushes for the same prize, the person selling the equipment wins. We haven't changed; we just traded gold pans for tech bubbles.

Hold on, did any of those price-gouging merchants actually become famous?

Take John W. Nordstrom. He was one of the few who found a bit of gold, but he had the rare sense to realize digging in the mud is for losers. He took his money and opened a shoe store in Seattle instead.

While his former buddies were busy losing toes to frostbite and eating their boots, Nordstrom was building a retail empire selling those very boots. It is the ultimate proof that the only thing guaranteed in a gold rush is that everyone eventually needs a new pair of shoes to walk home in defeat.

Wait, how much gold did he actually find to fund that empire?

He found about $13,000—roughly $450,000 today. He didn't quit because he was 'done,' but because he realized a gold mine was just a target for every thief in the Yukon.

He saw that gold is finite, but the need for shoes is eternal. He took his winnings and ran to Seattle before the mountain could take them back.

He traded a high-risk hole in the ground for a predictable storefront. The smartest way to stay rich is to stop gambling once you win.

But surely some other miners were smart enough to walk away too?

Hardly. Most people are biologically incapable of seeing an exit ramp when dopamine is involved. They didn't see a "win"; they saw a "hot streak" that they assumed would last forever.

For every Nordstrom who took his chips off the table, there were ten thousand guys who found a nugget and immediately blew it on $50 whiskey or gambled it away. They were convinced the next hole in the ground would turn them into kings.

It’s the classic gambler’s ruin. We’re wired to think a win is a sign to double down, not a reason to stop. Humans would rather go bust chasing a jackpot than be "boring" and stable.

So why exactly did evolution wire us to be such reckless idiots?

For 99% of history, "quitting while you're ahead" was a death sentence. If an ancestor found a beehive, they gorged themselves because those calories might not be there tomorrow. In the wild, there was no such thing as too much.

We’re running "Survival 1.0" software in a 21st-century world. Back then, greed was a survival feature that kept you alive during lean winters. Today, in a world of stock apps and casinos, it’s a glitch that drains your bank account.

Evolution doesn't care about your retirement fund; it just wants you to survive the night. It rewards the "more" instinct with dopamine, making the exit ramp look like a missed opportunity rather than a safety net.