by Joe Nobody
After a few days of this inactivity, Huang started sending people home. No orders meant no work and no pay. That was just how a business worked…or so he thought. The following day, an official from the Ministry of Commence arrived to speak with Huang. Why had he sent his workers home? Why weren’t they going to receive any wages?
“There are no orders, sir. My customers were in America and have stopped purchasing from us.” Huang had replied.
The government representative glared at Huang like he was from Mars. “I do not understand, Mr. Fu. Why don’t you just make what you make for someone else?”
“Who?”
“Well, I’m not sure. How did you find the American customers?”
“It took years to develop those customers, sir. I can’t just magically make new ones appear.”
“This is of no consequence. You will not be allowed to terminate your employees. This is a violation. I suggest you begin replacing your customers as soon as possible. In the meantime, your workers are to return to the job, and they will be paid.”
Huang had held his tongue, wanting to lambast the idiot. In his most polite tone he asked, “Sir, where will I get the money to pay my employees? Our firm doesn’t have those types of deposits on hand. We will run out of cash within days.”
The official had dismissed the business owner, clearly frustrated with the conversation. “That is not my problem, Mr. Fu. Find a way, or my next visit will be more serious.”
Huang had secured a loan from the Central Bank having to put his state-of-the-art machine tools up as collateral. He had been tempted at one point to use his personal finances to keep the business open, but even his considerable wealth wouldn’t pay 350 people for an extended period of time.
What followed was a whirlwind series of trips to India, Japan, South Korea and Australia. For an entire month, Huang had traveled the globe looking for new customers, but none were found. The downfall of America and the overhanging threat of nuclear war had practically crushed every potential market. Most countries were focused on keeping their own labor force working, not importing goods from China.
Despite all of his hard work, very few orders trickled in to FMT. Those that came in were low profit, modest projects - insulting to the advanced capabilities of his operation. Eventually he was granted permission to gradually reduce his labor force. It was his banker who spoke to the Ministry of Commerce and provided an out.
Three months ago, the Americans finally attacked, but not with bullets or bombs. Business completely withered, and the fledgling foreign customers he had been nurturing simply vanished. It was an Australian shipbuilder who broke the bad news. “I’m sorry, Mr. Fu, but I’ve received quotes from an American facility that are 20% lower than your proposal.”
At first Huang had thought the man was simply being racist - giving other white men an unfair advantage. Then his network of colleagues began reporting similar competition from America. Huang found out that that without having to pay taxes, the US firms could undercut practically anyone. America was back, and with no taxation, the world was rushing to her doorstep.
Following the pack wasn’t always a bad thing, he mused. Many times, people joined what was better or provided a superior solution for all the right reasons. He had to admit, doing business without government interference or the looming threat of being imprisoned at any time was appealing. Not having to give the wasteful bureaucracy its annual stipend of his income was even a stronger draw.
Huang had begun the clandestine process of relocation. The first challenge had been to get his money out of China without drawing attention to the effort. His personal wealth had always been diversified into several different assets, gold being one of them. His reserves of bullion had been shipped to Japan a few days ago, hidden inside of a fake order of parts and now residing in a bonded warehouse.
Gradually, slowly, he had shifted his investments. Several visits to the American Express office in Shanghai had resulted in a handful of pre-paid debit cards – each worth almost $100,000 in US dollars. Banks in Canada, New Zealand, and Panama had all received large deposits - the transfer of funds being disguised as payment for raw material or spare parts purchases.
Two days ago, his wife and children flew to Japan to attend a trade show. He would meet them there tomorrow and never return to China. A new home in Houston had already been purchased. It was five kilometers from the new plant where crews were already installing the latest machining technology available. There was even the promise of a proper automobile.
FMT was going to be resurrected, this time in the United States. Huang believed his experience, drive and skill could rebuild his company. He also believed the US was the best place to do so.
Mr. Fu sighed and reached for his computer’s keyboard for the last time. He queued a program purchased over the internet a few weeks ago - the new software promising to erase and scramble the machine’s memory beyond recovery.
His finger hovered over the key for only a moment. He pressed the button and barely glanced at the screen as the destruction of a lifetime of achievement was initiated.
Three minutes later, he strolled by the display of his original machine tools in the lobby. Mr. Fu stopped and touched each one and said his goodbyes. He wished he could take them with him, but that simply wasn’t possible.
Ten minutes later, Mr. Fu was in the back of a taxi headed for the international airport.
Forty minutes later, the wheels thumped the bottom of the Japan Airlines 767 aircraft after takeoff. The flight was only two hours and ten minutes. His family was going to meet him at the Tokyo airport. After waving off the steward’s offer of a drink, Huang reclined the first class seat as far as it would go. For the first time in weeks, he fell into a proper sleep.
Southland Marina, Texas
July 20, 2018
Wyatt stepped out of Boxer’s head, brushing the front of his jacket and fussing with his hair. Looking up at Morgan, he asked, “Well, how do I look?”
Morgan finished her sip of coffee and flashed him a bright smile. “I’d hire you, but then again, I’m a little partial.”
Her husband wasn’t convinced. “Are you sure? I mean, you don’t think the tie is too old fashioned or anything, do ya?”
Morgan set her cup on the counter and walked to him, pulling on the jacket sleeves and giving him a serious once over. “The jacket looks great on you, babe. You’ve lost a little weight and look fit and tan. I think you’ll do fine.”
Wyatt shook his head, not so sure. “It’s been so long since I’ve had an interview. I feel like a college kid going for my first one.”
“You’ll do fine,” she replied, and then decided to distract him. “Tell me about this company again? Fu Machine and what?”
“Machine and Tool. They are a high-tech machine shop from what I read.”
“I’ve never heard of the company before. Do you know how big they are?”
“No, I get the impression they’re new here in the states. The owner, Mr. Fu, seemed uncomfortable with English. I should settle down – there are dozens of jobs on the internet sites. I even read one article that predicted a labor shortage for the next three years.”
Morgan nodded her agreement. “The hospital is hiring like crazy as well. It’s kind of sad in a way – how many people perished. There are over 200 photographs on our wall now.”
Wyatt sighed, “I wonder how long we’ll morn. The grocery store still has hundreds of posters on their bulletin board. It’s so sad – all those people looking for lost relatives or family members. We’re lucky.”
“It’s about time we had some luck Wyatt, but I know what you mean. Our memorial wall at the hospital is depressing if you look at it that way. It’s also a reminder to everyone to never let that happen again. I just wish we had been able to learn our lesson without all those people having to die.”
Morgan’s cell phone began ringing, causing her to pause. She looked at the caller-id and mouthed the word “Sage” to Wyatt.
She tapped the screen and said, “Morning sweeties, how are ya?”
Wyatt paused for a bit, fatherly instinct wanting to verify Sage was all right. After listening for a few moments, Morgan broke out in a huge smile and said, “Oh, Sage, that’s fantastic news!”
Wyatt caught his wife’s eye and mouthed the word, “What?”
After listening for a few more moments, Morgan covered the mouthpiece and said, “The Houston Museum of Modern Art is going to display Sage’s art work from the island. She just got the call.”
“Wow, that’s outstanding news! Tell her I love her, and I’m proud of her. Also, let her know I want the first tickets!”
Wyatt glanced at his watch and knew it was time to go. He didn’t want to be late and needed plenty of time to find the place. A lot of traffic signals weren’t working yet, so it was prudent to leave a little early.
Morgan said, “Hold on,” into the phone and kissed Wyatt goodbye. “You’ll knock ’em dead, babe. Best of luck.”
The End
Epilogue
AP Press Release – Washington, D.C. – U.S.A. 08:00 December 1, 2019
The US Bureau of Labor Statistics today announced weekly claims for unemployment reached the lowest level since the bureau began tracking the bellwether indicator over 100 years ago.
Only 12,700 people filed new claims for unemployment benefits, dropping the nation’s overall unemployment rate to 0.3%.
Most analysts credit the unprecedented growth of the United States economy for the historic low number of people looking for work, citing the 11.4% expansion in 2018 and the anticipated 12.4% growth in 2019.
Economists predict a slight cooling of the US economy in 2020 as more and more nations mimic the US policy of zero taxation, thus negating the competitive advantage currently enjoyed by American firms.
In related news, the US trade surplus grew to 1.3 trillion dollars in November. Experts believe resurgence in manufacturing in North America will continue to fuel the trade surplus for another 18-24 months until the remaining industrialized nations catch up with the boom in US output.
Appendix
Reed’s slides used in the presentation (Chapter 14).
