PIPER'S, Inc.. Joaquin De Torres
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Название: PIPER'S, Inc.

Автор: Joaquin De Torres

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Юриспруденция, право

Серия:

isbn: 9781456624590

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ many in the industry, and even in her family, that if she wanted to survive she’d have to think big and out of the box. And whenever she heard that, it meant one thing: She had to go to America.

      “So, I will repeat, Miss Noel. . .take off your clothes.”

      She blinked out of her daydream, and took a deep breath. The demand, here in a bank, made no sense! She could understand it if she were applying for a stripper’s position, or a modeling job, but she was there to apply for a business loan! She looked up at the man timidly. Seeing her complete confusion, he got up from his desk and walked over to a matching mahogany wall cabinet and bookshelf that extended the entire width of the wall. Her eyes followed him cautiously, then dragged over to where a long, beautiful leather couch sat. Her eyes quickly darted back to him as he opened the cabinet doors. Within were several bottles of expensive spirits, wine and crystal glasses. He took two goblets and a large, ornate bottle of what looked like brandy, and returned to the front of his desk where she sat. The huge brandy bottle was also crystal, and filled with almost 1.5 liters of dark, orange liquid.

      Diana’s hands were trembling as the urge to run out the door began to grow. She pulled her eyes away from him and looked ahead, beyond his chair and through the massive, wall-to-wall bay view windows that gave a breathtaking panorama of the city. He poured a brandy for her, and before he could fill his own glass, she grabbed the goblet and drained hers dry. She put the empty goblet on his desk to his amazement. He smiled with satisfaction as he poured her another. This might be easier than he thought.

      As he sipped his brandy, he reached out and let his hand glide through a length of her long, honey brown hair. Her body stiffened when his fingertips touched her neck, and he retracted his hand. Her stare remained still through the window panes, trying to find some sort of strength to remain calm. But Diana was new to New York; her first time in the States with no friends or family. She was alone. A young woman with a dream, but no backup plan, and no sponsor to help navigate her through this new world she had chosen to explore. This was something that Rosenbaum made sure to remind her of.

      “This is not Croatia, honey,” he broke the silence. “And this is no ordinary bank.” He moved back to his chair and sat down, pulling towards himself the folder of documents she had presented earlier. “Your paperwork is good, but your reasons for this loan will not pass the test for any other bank.” She finally raised her eyes to his.

      “Do you know that 47 percent of retail and clothing start-ups fail within the first year of opening their doors? Unless you have really famous friends or know a lot of important people, you’re going to need a lot of money if you want to be taken seriously.” He took a long drink and continued. “No one is investing in fashion anymore. The market is saturated with these new brands, but in the end they fail. Do you know why? Two reasons: e-commerce and sweat shops.” Diana had no idea what he was talking about. He nodded in understanding.

      “I know, it’s hard to imagine that you can’t make it here in America-the land where dreams come true. But this is also the land where dreams are crushed. E-commerce is the way to go. Sell your fashions online, set up a great website, and save money on buildings, showrooms and rental space.” Diana listened intently, feeling that she may be able to salvage some kind of guidance. “No one has the time anymore to go to stores, outlets or malls just for clothes. People are ordering them online and that’s the trend.” He looked at one of her documents. “I see that you sell quality and original designs.”

      “Yes, I design them myself,” she said quietly but with a small amount of pride. But he was shaking his head.

      “It’s original, but no one cares here. Do you know why? Because of the second reason: sweatshops. Over 75 percent of successful fashion stores use Malaysian, Bangladesh, Columbian, Indian, or Chinese labor for their garments. They have tens of thousands of people all over the world, working for less than a dollar an hour, and they are imported back here to sell. Cheap, affordable clothing. Diana, unless you have connections with Versace, Christian Dior, or Armani-honey, you’re going nowhere.” She shook her head in defiance.

      “No, I won’t import from China or any other Third World country.” Her determination was clear. Then he crushed it.

      “Then you’re setting yourself up for failure! Honey, this is America! You need lots of money to make enough money just to break even. Then you need time to build your fortune; years. How are you going to pay the utilities, rent, insurance, taxes, the cost of such quality materials, import taxes, licensing fees, the workers, the returns, the maintenance, the medical coverage for your employees, the machines to make the clothes, the accountants, the lawyers, the advertising? I’m telling you Miss Noel, you. . .will. . .fail.”

      She just looked at him on the verge of tears, her hands curled into fists, and her lips began to tremble. He casually took another drink, feeling his utter superiority over her. This was not the first time he served a large dish of reality to a first-time client. There had been hundreds. When she dropped her chin in defeat, he spoke again.

      “Now, let me tell you what I can do for you. I’m a senior member of the SBA which is the Small Business Administration. The maximum 7-A loan the SBA can guarantee is $5 million. But you don’t need that much. As a startup, the average amount is between 300 and $350,000. You’ve requested just $200,000.” Diana nodded her head slowly as she wiped away her tears. “There is a fee of 3 percent for guaranteed loans up to $700,000. So, immediately, you owe the bank $6,000 to secure this loan. And if I sign this contract, you owe that today.”

      Diana’s eyes widened in disbelief and despair. She barely had $12,000 in traveler’s checks on her for this trip. That money had to last for two weeks to search for locations for her new store, and once she found one, she had to put down money to secure it; then hire an interior decorator, pay for his materials, computers and furniture; hire a project manager to handle things when she went back to Croatia and clear her apartment before moving back to New York.

      There were a hundred things she had to pay for without even mentioning her motel, food, and taxi rides. And now, she would have to give up half of that amount for one fee! She felt her dreams melting under his sharp gaze. She felt herself a fool to have considered this.

      “Now, after the fee is paid, your loan is guaranteed up to five years at fixed rate of 4 percent. So, that’s $8,000 in interest you owe per year for five years, which comes out to $40,000. You pay quarterly, so you owe me $2,000 every four months.” The numbers were staggering for Diana. How could she sell enough merchandise just to pay the interest, much less everything else he mentioned? It was impossible. She could probably do it, and actually make huge sums of money by going the sweatshop route.

      But if word got out to her homeland that children, mothers and grandmothers were working 15-hour days under the NOEL logo, she would be known as a soulless fraud, shaking hands with the corporate devil, and adopting the true American business model. Her six stores in Zagreb would close down in shame, her name would be dirt, and she’d be nowhere. She took a deep breath. She was not going to disgrace herself, her family, or her brand. She was Croatian, and she would not sell her soul. She shook her head quickly and looked up.

      “No, Mr. Rosenbaum, I can’t pay that. It was a mistake to come here. A mistake to think I could start a business in America. You are right; I will fail. Thank you very-” She stopped when he raised up a palm. He finished his drink and poured himself another.

      “Around New York, I’m known as the ‘Game Changer.’ Do you know what a game changer is, Miss Noel?” She shook her head. “A game changer is the person who delivers a miracle. When the game is on the line, when defeat is looking you in the face- like it’s looking at you right now-you call on me to give you that miracle.” He smirked with conceit and felt the satisfaction at the unseen power he wielded.

      “I’m СКАЧАТЬ