Chapter 45: The Rolling Cash Machine
Lance pulled a stack of cash from the drawer, carefully counting out ten five-dollar bills. He laid them flat on the desk, counted them again for the man sitting across from him, then stacked them neatly and handed them over.
"Mind if I ask," Lance began, "why you chose us?"
The man, a dockworker, was already busy counting the money. "You’re the only ones willing to lend me fifty bucks. Everyone else said it was too little, and the interest was ridiculous."
Before coming here, the man had approached other lenders, but none would help. It wasn’t that fifty-dollar loans lacked profit potential—quite the opposite.
Most finance companies operated on steep interest rates. A fifty-dollar loan could easily balloon to over a hundred dollars in three months. However, these firms often balked at the logistical and financial risks of such small sums.
If the borrower disappeared or defaulted, recovering the loan could cost more than the loan itself. Tracking someone down, sending staff, and covering transportation and meal expenses could quickly exceed the profit margins.
This is why finance companies preferred larger loans with higher profits to offset potential recovery costs. For Lance, however, such "low-hanging fruit" was precisely the entry point he needed to carve out a niche and avoid direct competition.
Not only did Lance have the man sign the contract, but he also had him press his fingerprint on the document. To seal the deal, the contract included a clause:
After double-checking the cash, the man left with a grin, his spirits visibly lifted.
Lance opened a ledger, noting the details of the loan under his team member’s name. "Once this debt is settled, you’ll get a commission of four dollars and eighty cents."
The team member’s eyes sparkled with delight. Almost five dollars? It felt too good to be true.
Lance bumped fists with him. "Keep it up," he encouraged before heading out to a nearby bank.
At the bank, Lance was promptly approached by a floor manager, drawn by Lance’s sharp appearance and the car he arrived in.
"What brings you in today, sir?"
"I’m here to discuss a loan."
"Of course, this way, please."
The manager led Lance through the bank’s well-appointed lobby to a private loan office. After a quick knock, the manager gestured for Lance to enter.
Inside, a man in his forties stood up to greet him with a firm handshake. "Good afternoon. How should I address you, sir?"
"Mr. Lance, I’m Jonathan. I handle loan services. What can I assist you with today?"
Lance laid two post-dated checks and a contract on the desk. "I’d like a loan of sixty-five dollars for two months."
Jonathan raised an eyebrow, picking up the checks. They were standard, issued through a union worker’s account—a common setup in Jingang City. Union dues were deducted, and wages were deposited into such accounts each month.
Next, Jonathan examined the contract, ensuring there were no hidden clauses. Satisfied, he looked up, puzzled. "So, these are... collateral?"
"Exactly," Lance confirmed.
"The checks’ issuer currently has no funds in his account. However, the first check will clear in a week when he gets paid—thirty-seven dollars, guaranteed." Ȓ₳Ŋ𝖔ΒĚS
"And the second check?"
"Next month’s salary. In short, I’m using these as collateral for a sixty-five-dollar loan. Is there an issue?"
Jonathan hesitated. This was unusual. "What if this... individual loses his job?"
Lance was ready for this objection. "That’s why there’s a work-card leasing agreement in place. If he defaults, the card can be leased for four months, fetching at least sixty dollars from any undocumented worker."
Lance smirked. "Right now, leasing a work card goes for twenty dollars a month. The math checks out—eighty dollars’ worth of collateral."
Jonathan, a local, understood the demand for work cards. The recent anti-immigration unrest had driven prices up. Without work, many undocumented laborers were on the brink of starvation. Desperate to resume earning, they’d pay premium rates to lease work cards.
Jonathan mulled over the proposal. The bank’s personal loan interest rate was twelve percent annually—one percent monthly. For a sixty-five-dollar loan, that meant just sixty-five cents per month in interest. Two months added up to $1.30—a negligible amount for the bank.
Despite the small stakes, Jonathan hesitated. The unconventional setup made him uneasy. Yet, declining the loan outright might reflect poorly on him—after all, every transaction contributed to his performance metrics.
Sensing Jonathan’s indecision, Lance sweetened the deal. "This is just one transaction, Mr. Jonathan. I have many more like it—potentially thousands, even tens of thousands of dollars in loans every month."
Jonathan’s eyes narrowed. "Thousands?"
Lance leaned back, letting his confidence do the talking. "You’ve probably guessed what I do. Rest assured, any potential issues will be resolved before they become your problem."
Jonathan tapped the desk, mulling it over. He glanced again at the checks and contract. "A week from now..."
"You can cash the first check directly," Lance cut in. "Nobody processes payments faster than you."
Jonathan’s expression softened at the reassurance. With the account locked for deposits only, there was virtually no risk. "And the second check?"
"Same deal. Deduct what’s owed, then deposit any excess into my account."
Jonathan finally smiled, extending his hand. "Cash or check?"
"Also," Jonathan added, "I’ll need an authorization letter allowing us to process these checks. In case anything goes wrong, we need clear accountability."
Lance shook Jonathan’s hand firmly. "Consider it done. You’ve just made the best decision of your day."
Jonathan chuckled, "Let’s hope so."
The loan was approved without issue. Lance walked out with $65 in cash, knowing he’d just earned $15 in profit with minimal effort.
Even after deducting the $1.30 in bank interest over two months, the net profit was substantial. The true power lay in scalability—repeating this process with volume would amplify returns exponentially.
By keeping the cash flow rolling and reinvesting strategically, Lance was already proving the viability of his model.
Back at the office, Elvin had fretted over Lance’s earlier liquidity concerns. He needn’t have worried. Lance’s confidence wasn’t misplaced. In fact, if funds weren’t so tight, Lance wouldn’t have bothered brokering deals through Alberto—he’d have handled it all himself.