Direct Marketing anno 1952

My mother, generally known as Omi in our family, always looked for innovative ways to make ends meet. We were living in what was then East Germany, just outside Berlin in a small village. Food and other necessities were relatively scarce and the money people earned wasn't worth a lot. BUT - in West Berlin everything was available, absolutely everything as far as we were concerned.
So Omi devised a scheme to make some real money - 1 West German Mark was worth about 6 East German Marks, something rather academic since there was little available in the East German shops. However, if you had the 'good' money you could shop in West Berlin.
Omi figured she could sell fresh country eggs to the 'rich' West Berliners. To this end she firstly construced a rather ingenious vest with lots of pockets in it, about 60 in all, one for each egg, to be worn under her overcoat. Omi being a rather short person would look like the fat lady in the opera when fully loaded and decked out.
She would get the eggs from people in our village on the barter system. So many eggs for a few grams of real coffee, for example. In season she'd also get tomatoes, pears, apples, cherries and other produce that was not too bulky and easily carried. Then, every second Saturday morning we (I was dragged along under protest) would embark on our selling mission. She would dress me in the shabbiest clothes we had - to reinforce the image of poor 'Easterners', which apparently helped in softening peoples heart to buy at least a few eggs. What a combination - me the 'pin-up'boy and her the tough sales lady!
First up a good three kilometre walk to the train station, a 45 minute ride on the suburban train, change of trains and another 20 minute ride to Charlottenburg - that's where the upper middle class people lived.
We would then enter a nice looking four storey apartment building, climb to the top floor and Omi would ring the dorbell. If it was answered she would politely ask if the lady of the house would like to buy some farm-fresh eggs - at the same time opening her coat and showing her wares.
Omi would always start at the top of the building, it was her firm belief that if you started at the bottom you would have bad luck all the way up. "Better to sell them all at the top then none at all", was her mantra.
Over time she acquired quite a good 'crop' of regulars that would actually put in orders for x number of eggs for the next delivery, which made it easier.
One particular Saturday she was extremely successfull, selling her chest-full of eggs in the first apartment building (usually we'd have to do four or five) and as a treat for my able assistance dragged me to a greengrocers. She bought me ONE banana! One banana - yuck, it was horrible!! It tasted terrible, especially since first up I eagerly bit into the ruddy thing - skin on. You don't peel apples or pears, do you? Being a good mother she peeled it for me, but guess what - it still tasted awful - I'd never encountered a taste like that! So much for a treat.