By five, the city had traded caffeine for traffic. Vans nosed into bike lanes; horns did the talking. On his desk, inventory looked healthier—thirty-six black, twelve clear—but the number that mattered sat on top of the dashboard like a dare:
[Hold Buy Box ≥30%: 44h 58m → 39h 11m]
Orders trickled with intent. Singles for the matte black. 2-Packs for Black+Clear. Each one got a label, a seal, a drop to the kiosk. Honest speed was the only free lever he had.
A new banner slid across the top in Amazon beige:
[Business Customers: Enable tiered pricing to attract bulk buyers?]
[Suggested tiers: 5+ units (−3%), 10+ units (−5%)]
He toggled Yes, set 5+ → −3%, 10+ → −5%, and checked the fine print—no coupon stacking, standard returns. Good. Let offices and IT guys nibble in tens.
He opened Shipping → USPS SCAN Form, bundled every label into one barcode, and printed. The kiosk would scan one sheet and give him every acceptance timestamp in a single beep. Earlier scans meant faster deliveries meant money sooner. Oxygen.
The screen ticked one pleasant line:
[Process Efficiency + | Average First Scan Time: Improved]
Then pleasant ended.
[Competitor Action: New ASIN launched using copied keywords + similar images.]
[Risk: Search dilution + misattribution.]
[Recommendation: Negative keywords → "-ultra thin glossy," "-brandname case"; keep exact match for "no-logo slim case," "matte grippy case."]
He killed broad match like it owed him money, set exact match to the two phrases that actually sold, and stuffed the rest into negative. Waste less. Hit harder.
Ad spend slowed to a trickle; conversion didn't flinch. The Buy Box hovered at 33–36% like a bird that hadn't made up its mind.
An email arrived iced in corporate politeness:
[Account Health: "Used Sold as New" complaint received.]
A buyer reported the item appeared previously opened. Provide evidence of condition controls.
He stared at the words, then at the clear pouches spread across his desk. Generic packaging looked like generic packaging. To someone expecting a box and a hymn, a pouch could feel like a shrug.
He didn't argue with feelings. He changed facts.
He opened a Word template and printed tamper-evident seals on matte label paper: SEALED — VOID IF OPENED with a tiny serial number. Not fancy, not expensive. He added a "NEW — GENERIC, NO BRAND" line to the insert, no review bait, no QR, nothing to trigger a policy grenade—just a materials note and care line (wipe with microfiber; do not use alcohol).
He shot a thirty-second video with the seals going on before packing; one continuous take, serial numbers visible; no cuts. He uploaded it in his reply.
Generic product; never opened before ship; tamper seal applied; video attached; returnless refund issued to complainant.
He hit Submit and went back to printing labels. The shop bell replaced the printer's squeal—another 2-Pack—the kind of sound that made you forgive the night.
The phone buzzed with something actually useful:
[Business Buyer Inquiry]
"Need 10 units by Friday for office phones. Can you guarantee same-day ship?"
Yes, he wrote. Order before 4 p.m. PST, ships today. No logo, matte grip, camera lip 1.2mm.
A minute later, the order landed—10 units at the 5+ tier. His stock dipped. His confidence didn't.
He built a quick pick/pack checklist on a clipboard because checklists save you when adrenaline tries to help:
Verify model fit
Seal with serial
Scan label + SCAN Form
Photo of pile before drop (timestamp)
The timer on top moved like a slow saw: 39h 11m → 36h 24m. He ate half a granola bar and forgot the other half on the windowsill.
The competitor didn't forget anything.
[Catalog Attack: Variation Hijack Attempt]
"PrimeChoiceGoods" attempted to attach a glossy, logo-stamped case as a child SKU under your "No-Logo Minimalist" parent.
[Risk: Parent polluted → Reviews + title/images may blend.]
[Action: System auto-rejected due to parent constraint mismatch.]
He exhaled. The reject was automatic, but the intent wasn't. Someone on the other end wasn't just dropping prices. He was twisting rules until they screamed.
A chime. Another buyer message:
"Will it yellow?"
He answered: Clear TPU can amber over time; black won't. If you want a zero-yellow, wait for polycarbonate stock (not available yet). A tiny truth people respect more than a billboard.
He pushed five sealed mailers into the kiosk and watched the SCAN Form beep their existence into the system. Somewhere, an algorithm nodded. Somewhere else, a man imagined that nod should have belonged to him.
[Valid Tracking Rate: Excellent]
[On-Time Shipping: 100% (3 days running)]
Back at the desk, the legal letters had bred in their shoebox. He didn't feed them. He shipped packages instead. The VP texted again:
Sign today and I won't contest unemployment. Good guys finish smart.
He typed nothing. He read Buy Box: 37%, ACoS: 21%, Orders/hr: 1.8. He brewed coffee that tasted like burnt pennies and victory.
A new banner appeared, not red, not beige—orange, the color of bad timing:
[Listing Deactivation: "Used Sold as New" under investigation.]
[Your ASIN temporarily suppressed pending review.]
[Expected time: 24–48h.]
[Sales → Paused.]
The air left the room like a door opening in winter. Orders froze mid-drip. Ads shut themselves off. The timer at the top kept marching, cruelly indifferent:
[Hold Buy Box ≥30%: 36h 24m](paused due to deactivation)
He opened Account Health and the Case ID he'd already filed. The video sat there. The seals. The serials. The returnless refund receipt. He added one more photo—the ten-unit business order sealed on a table with serials visible and that morning's newspaper in the shot like a cliché that still worked.
A number called. The same Midwest vowels. "Amanda, Compliance."
"I saw," he said.
"It'll clear," she replied. "But a suppression is a suppression until a human touches it. Your evidence is clean. You did the right things. Don't spam the thread. It resets the queue."
"How long?"
"Could be six hours. Could be twenty. Use the time. Fix what you can control."
The line clicked. The room returned.
He looked around at the things he could control: seals, labels, a checklist, a coffee cup, a shoebox of empty threats. The competitor had found the choke point—no sales meant no momentum meant no oxygen. Fine. He'd build lungs.
He opened Drafts and finished the Screen Protector 3-Pack—generic, no logo, no claims beyond scratch-resistant. He couldn't publish under the same parent. He shouldn't cannibalize his resurrecting momentum anyway. But when the case came back, the protector would be a second hallway for buyers to walk through.
He toggled Request GTIN Exemption for the protector and attached a photo of the blank, unbranded cello wrap he'd buy if a supplier answered. He sent three messages to three small wholesalers within bus range, asking about polycarbonate clear cases and protector MOQ 50.
The page didn't ping back. The city coughed dusk into the street. He set timers for post office run at 6:15 and again at 9:10, because accepted scans fed the algorithm like calories. He cleaned the photo setup. He replaced the lamp bulb. He wrote SEALED on a stack of labels until the word looked like a shape.
At 6:02, the phone vibrated—Account Health again.
[Update: "Used Sold as New" — Evidence reviewed. Suppression lifted.]
[Note from Investigator: Video and seals accepted. Advise: keep seal serials in shipment records.]
Sales resumed like breath after a held swim. Buy Box returned at 29%, climbed to 32%, and held like a stubborn knuckle.
The timer un-paused:
[Hold Buy Box ≥30%: 35h 57m]
He picked up the stack of mailers and jogged to the kiosk. The SCAN Form beeped. He checked his watch and allowed himself one private rule: if a man could shut him off for hours, he would move like the kind of problem you couldn't shut off at all.
On the way back, a text blinked from a number he didn't have saved but didn't need to: "New game. New ASIN. Sleep well."
He didn't answer. He put a microfiber cloth on his sourcing list—cheap, light, value dense. He taped one more note over the trackpad:
NEVER ARGUE WHAT YOU CAN PROVE.
The night got its hands on the city again. He opened Orders. The count ticked. The kettle hissed. The shoebox sat heavy. The seals waited. The timer ate the hours one bite at a time.
He let it. He had more bites.