Sometimes, you are not the biggest shark in the sea!
Shark
Rocking from one foot to the other, he absentmindedly fidgeted with his wrinkled suit.
On any other day, in his near past, he might have been an example of a bright and highly competitive twenty-something year old goal oriented male. Today was not any of those any other days – neither were several hapless days recently.
The young man shuffled to the teller window, in his turn, after a long wait in line.
Patiently, he stood there until the perky bank teller beamed, “May I help you?”
Leaning forward toward her, in the hushed tone like a devout man in church, he hoarsely whispered, “Like to see a loan officer.”
The teller stifled a giggle as she picked up the telephone receiver, pressed an intercom button, and spoke into the handset, “Yes, it’s Tina. I have a customer asking to see a loan officer.”
Before she hung up the phone, a tall middle aged man in a dark blue suit trotted out of a side office to the teller’s area.
Extending a handshake and offering a hearty greeting, the older gentleman proclaimed, “Good morning! I’m Matt Thompson, branch manager and loan officer.” With this, he led the perspective client to the manager’s office. ”Come into my office.”
The manager closed the office door and showed the younger man an overstuffed chair in front of the wide mahogany desk. “Have a seat.”
As they settled in, the manager folded his hands on the desk and asked, “What can we do for you today?”
The client inched forward slowly in the chair before speaking uncomfortably. “I need a loan.”
The manager nodded, “Certainly. Do you have an account with this bank?”
Nodding, the young man confirmed, “Yes, for several years now.” Unfolding a paper and handing it to the manager, “Here is my loan form. It’s all filled out. I need a loan.”
Putting on his glasses, the banker accepted the paper and looked over the application. “Let’s see what we have here. Seems complete, but a few questions. You’re working?”
“My employer is listed there.” The young man pointed at the form.
“So it is…been there a long time…I see. That’s always good. Let me take a minute and run this by the computer.” The manager swiveled around and began entering information from the loan form into his desktop computer. After hammering away at the keyboard, the manager paused, and then turned back to his client. “While we’re waiting for the credit background check, let me ask, how much are you planning to borrow?
Quickly and without hesitation, the young man stated flatly, “Five thousand four hundred seventy two dollars and fourteen cents.”
Quizzically, the banker removed his glasses and inquired, “Why’s that? Why such an odd figure?”
“Because that’s the amount I need to borrow.”
As the banker opened his mouth to pursue the subject, the computer beeped twice, drawing his attention back to the screen. “Ah, the computer’s done.” He put on his glasses, paused to review the facts, and shook his head slowly. “But, the credit check doesn’t look good. Looks like you’re maxed out on all of your credit cards. On top of that, your mortgage with our main branch is being processed for foreclosure. Your checking account is overdrawn by several hundred dollars…and there is nothing in your saving account.” The banker scowled and looked squarely at the client. “What were you thinking? Coming in here for a loan…for that much money…for any amount money…wasting my time like that!”
The client blinked before speaking softly. “I know, but I need the five thousand four hundred seventy two dollars and fourteen cents today.”
Handing back the loan form, the banker firmly decreed, “We cannot give you a loan until you settle these problems with your finances.”
“But I need the money today!” he said with a sense of panic in his voice.
“No loan, I’m sorry, but not today,” the manager turned away and waved his hands. “Go…get out of here. Stop embarrassing yourself. Get yourself together and come back again someday.”
The man sprang up and growled, “Today! I need it today!”
“No!” screamed the manager as he stood up.
Pounding his fists on the desk, the man yelled. “Today! I’ve got to have it all by today! Five thousand four hundred seventy two dollars and fourteen cents today!”
It was the bank manager’s turn to shout. “Get out before I call the police! Now!”
The young client kicked the chair aside and swept the manager’s desk clear of papers, photo frames, office supplies and a ringing telephone, before he stormed out the office and plowed a path through the patrons milling in the bank lobby.
A well dressed businessman at the end of the line watched with continued interest, as the other patrons turned their attention back to their banking duties. Leaving his place in line, the customer followed the departing man outside to the mall parking lot.
He found the distraught young man wiggling back out of an older model car, stuffing bullets into a large dark revolver, and mumbling, “There’s more than one way to get money out of a bank!” Startled by the movement a few feet behind him, the still enraged man faced the stranger with a crazed look.
The older, very dapper businessman stepped back, smiled, and held his hands out as he stared at the revolver. “Hey, look man; I heard you were after some money. Maybe I can help.”
“Nobody wants to help me. But, I do need money now!” The young man stepped up and jammed the revolver in the stranger’s face. “Right now! Today!”
The stranger backed away slowly, hands still outspread while he spoke reassuringly, “I heard...I heard already. I was in the bank just now. You said you needed five grand.”
“That’s five thousand four hundred seventy two dollars and fourteen cents. “
The suited stranger corrected himself, “Right. Five thousand four hundred seventy two dollars and fourteen cents.” Then he added, “The question is…what would you be willing to do for it?”
Still pointing the gun at the stranger, the younger one gave a sinister look. “Anything…I need the money!”
“Anything?” asked the older, with a smirk and a wink.
Thumbing back the revolver hammer and thus cocking the gun, the young man’s nostrils flared up as he straight arm aimed the revolver at the older man’s head, “You getting smart with me?”
“No, I’m not. Settle down. Just settle down now. Let’s see what we can work out here.” The stranger relaxed and lowered his hands. “Let’s say that I can get you the money. Would you be willing to work out a deal with me?”
“Depends…but I need the money today!”
The older man snapped his fingers and laughed lightly, “Bingo! You got it.” With his right hand out, palm up, he motioned outward. “Let me have the gun…for collateral…and you keep the bullets…so you don’t figure me for any funny stuff…like trying to shoot you. Got a deal?”
Uncocking the revolver, the younger man swung open the revolver cylinder, and tipped up the gun, empting out the bullets on the ground before handing the weapon over.
“Good start,” the stranger said, shoving the gun in his waist band. He pulled out a massive old leather wallet from his suit coat and opened it on the trunk of the car. “Here is,” as he counted out the money, “fifty four hundreds…a fifty… twenty…two ones, and,” fishing out change from his pants pocket, “a dime and four pennies. Look right to you?”
The young man snatched up the money and wadded it up in his pants pockets.
As he put away his wallet, the stranger asked, “Can we sit down for a cup of coffee and go over the details of the deal?”
“Guess so. But you’re buying!”
“Hey, you got it…follow me…just a little ways from here. We can go over repayment terms.”
The two men crossed the mall parking lot to an adjoining industrial park entrance. The businessman led them through a dank narrow alleyway, between two rundown factory buildings, that ended abruptly at the side door of a smelly grey warehouse. As they entered the warehouse, the young man noticed that the inside was dark except for small lighted area in the near corner. While the businessman seemed to know his way, the young man inched carefully along behind in the darkness. Ahead in the light was a door open to a small cramped office.
The older man waited in the doorway for his guest to join him. ”This is my place. Please…come on in to the office and have a seat.”
When his guest finally entered the lighted area, he decided, on the spot, that this was a disappointing excuse for a so-called office. He tried to decide what was worst…the shoddy construction…the multiple layers of dirt and grime…the cheap tacky furnishings…or the dim lighting from the flickering fluorescent bulbs.
The older man motioned toward a wobbly looking wooden chair next to what looked like a scrap wood desk. He held up a stained glass coffee pot, “Coffee? All I’ve got is black. That’s how I drink it.”
“Sure…why not,” the young man said. The chair joints creaked as he sat down.
“You got it,” said the host, as he offered a flimsy Styrofoam cup full of dark liquid. “So let me ask. I’ve got to know. Why the odd amount of money?”
The young man sipped the old burnt coffee. “My business…and none of yours.”
“No problem…just wondering…that’s all. Got family? Wife? Kids? Is the money for them?”
Forcing down the bitter brew, the young man shook his head.
“No what? No family or it’s not for them?” asked the stranger as he sat down behind the desk.
Harsh memories tried to surface in the man’s head as he closed his eyes before answering the question. “Gone…left me.”
“Sorry…but…maybe there is a good side. Heard you tell the bank guy that you have a job. Maybe you can get back on your feet again. And you could get me paid off in the process.”
The young man leaned back in the chair until he felt it give a little. “I lied…got laid off…permanently…place got shutdown.”
“Oh, really!” remarked the older man. “Any suggestions…any ideas on how you plan to pay me back?”
“Not off hand, I don’t.”
The businessman pressed on. “Got anyone who can bail you out? Friends? Family? Anyone?”
He stared directly at the man behind the desk. “If I did, do you think I’d be begging for a loan?”
“Good point.” said the man as he watched his guest sip on the coffee. “Let me get this straight. You don’t have a job. You’re in debt up to your hip pockets. You have no one to help you…nowhere to turn…no way out and no offer of any kind…no hope? Am I right?”
“Had it all…lost it all, and I don’t give a shit anymore.”
Not seeming very pleased, the older man slowly asked, “So…you never planned to pay that bank loan back, and no plans to repay my loan.”
In a defiant tone, the younger one turned away, and said, “Not if I could get away with it.”
The older man folded his arms and pondered the situation before speaking. “If you knew you couldn’t pay a loan back, then why did you go looking for a loan in the first place?”
His guest shrugged, and smirked. “Needed the money.”
“Very interesting approach,” said the older man as he leaned forward. “Anyway, where’s my manners? How’s the java ? Must be dry after all that talking. Need a refill yet?”
A groaning creak sounded as the youth shifted his weight forward on the chair. In the process of offering his empty cup, he began to bob and wobble and proceeded to collapse forward on the floor.
Unconcerned, the business man remained in his chair, lifted the telephone receiver to his ear, and dial a number. After a short wait, he spoke simply before handing up the phone, “Got a warm one.”
The overhead light buzzed and flickered a few times before two burley men in hard hats and long blood stained white coats step into office. The business man pointed to the young man face down on the floor, and made a sour face. “Haul out this chum and be sure to run him by Doc… have the saw bones see what this jerk has that’s worth anything on the organ donor lists. You guys know what to do with any leftovers.”
As the men grabbed up the lifeless form, their boss snapped his fingers for attention. “And, oh…by the way…the cash on him is ours.” The two workers grimly nodded as they hustled their way out of the office.
After the heavy boot sounds faded away in the darkness, the business man dropped the empty revolver on the desk top, retraced his steps out the office doorway, and through the darkness to the building entrance door.
Once in the dank alleyway, he paused against the building exterior wall long enough to light up a thick cigar.
It was now dusk. The overhead industrial building lighting first hummed loudly, then flashed on brightly, revealing more clearly the faded painted lettering on the factory façade - “West Side Custom Meat – For A Taste That Can’t Be Beat.”
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