When you're at the fair, the world is a rosier place.

The sunbeas.

When you're at the fair, the world is a rosier place. The sun is shining and the air is filled with the

smell of corn dogs and funnel cake. There's music, laughter, screams of delight

coming from the rides, it seems like you just can't lose.

And then you decide to play a carnival game. There's something about these games that

disarms our rational brains. We're willing to spend 10, 20, 30 dollars for a shot at winning a giant stuffed animal that we don't even really want.

Everyone, 90% of people came there with a lot of hope and they left, you know,

the super pissed off. The boss literally said to me, don't give away any of the big ones. And they would make the rules even tighter. It was a

mafia. For the Freakonomics radio network this is the economics of

everyday things. I'm Zachary Kratk. Today, Carnival Games.

To understand Carnival Games, you have to start with the people who manufacture them.

In the small town of Pacific, Missouri,

you'll find a giant warehouse full of balloons, milk jugs,

rubber ducks, and darts.

It belongs to a family-owned business called Redbone Products.

And if you've played a carnival game at a fair or an amusement park in recent years,

the odds are pretty good that it came from them.

My dad has been in the business, basically his whole life.

Olivia Turner is the company's general manager.

Her dad founded Redbone back in 1996.

And like many people in the business,

...