by Jacob Mesmer
“Well, it’s good you asked all those questions. Most people don’t,” she said.
“I just wonder what I’ll do if they make me an offer and I don’t really know what I’m getting into,” he said, thinking about Marco.
“Well, Tommy,” she said, grinning, “sometimes you just take what you can get. I didn’t exactly want to spend half my research time justifying getting funding. I’d really just rather be a lab rat and do experiments for the sake of science. I feel like I’m more of a marketing person than a scientist half the time,” she said, laughing.
“You’ve got a point. I can’t spend my whole life bringing Cobb salads to people,” he said, beginning to wonder why she was here in the middle of the afternoon.
“Yeah, you know better than most that the economy is changing quickly. You got to grab whatever you can get, and go from there,” she said. “I almost didn’t take my current job, thinking I wanted only some kind of pure science research job, but I’m glad I did. Now we’re getting millions of dollars and I can build my own lab exactly how I want. You never know how things are going to turn out.”
“That’s absolutely true,” he said, trying to imagine what Mallory and Selena would say if they knew he had bumped into her and didn’t come away with at least a phone number. “So, uh, you’re done for the day?” he asked in a clumsy lead into what he hoped would be a dinner date.
“Yes, but not really. The two VCs are leaving tomorrow morning, and Bradley, my boss, wants us to have dinner with them,” she said, glancing at her watch.
“All to make sure the money men leave with a good feeling,” he said. Good strategy.
“But,” she said, standing, and pausing, “why don’t we exchange numbers, and…” She let it hang.
“Of course,” Tommy said and took out his phone. He typed in her number and then called her so she’d have his. He kept standing while she walked out of the coffee shop. Once she was out of sight he sat down again with a slowly growing grin.
Six
“Hey, Dad,” Tommy said when he got home—the same home he’d grown up in, but couldn’t wait to get out of. His dad grunted a response. It was a little after five, but he suspected his dad was already settled into the couch and the TV for the night. He usually ate at four, which was when he’d start drinking. By six he was half asleep. But every night, much to Tommy’s amazement, he always managed to get up, turn off the TV, clean up his dinner, and change clothes before going to sleep. The few times Tommy had drunk too much and fallen asleep in front of the TV he’d woken up in exactly the same position, TV blaring.
Tommy put his leftovers in the fridge; he’d eaten at an Italian place at the Promenade and had an exceptionally flirty conversation with the waitress. He retreated to his room. Nothing to kill a fantastic day more than coming home to your drunk dad and a room you slept in since being a child. Jesus, he had to get out of this place.
He woke up early. He wasn’t scheduled to work today, so he needed to find a place to hunt for more jobs. Doing it from home was out of the question. His dad had retired four years ago, and got a decent pension. Enough to pay the bills and take care of his insurance, but not much else. Consequently, his dad didn’t do much but slowly wander around town during the day, going to largely free places like the mall and the public library, all in preparation for his nightly binge starting at four PM. Tommy knew it wasn’t healthy, but as he and his dad were not the best of friends, long conversations between them were few and far between. He was out of the shower by eight AM, and dressed in business casual. He found that he was in a much better resume-sending mood when he wasn’t dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.
After his third coffee and twentieth carefully constructed email, his stomach started growling. It was nearly noon. He knew he needed to save as much money as possible, so he decided to head home, finish up his leftovers on his lunch break, and then find another place to work from. Coffee shops were the best, especially during the week. They gave him the best mindset. He was on a first-name basis with most of the baristas in town, and many of them frequently asked him how the job hunt was going.
Back home, as his ravioli was heating up in the microwave, his cell phone buzzed.
“Yeah?” he asked, not checking the number.
“Yes, I’m calling for Thomas Ricker,” a man said.
“This is he,” Tommy said, chastising himself for not checking the number. Another reason he couldn’t work from home. Just being here put him in a foul mood.
“Mr. Ricker, my name is Dominic Shea. Cristina tells me you seem to know your stuff. Are you available this afternoon?” he asked pleasantly.
Tommy rushed over to the microwave and opened the door. He didn’t want a stray “ding” ruining his chances.
“Yes sir, absolutely. Where would you like to meet?” Tommy said, staring at the front door and willing his father to be as far away as possible.
“Why don’t you come by here later today, say three PM?” Shea suggested. Tommy got the feeling that he would be willing to negotiate the time if Tommy was busy.
“Three PM it is, I’m looking forward to meeting you. I have a lot of questions about your organization,” Tommy said as confidently as he could.
“Well, I certainly hope I can answer them,” Shea answered kindly.
“Tell you what, why don’t you start. Tell me everything you know about Shea Industries, including any educated guesses you’ve come up with in the last day or so,” Dominic Shea said.
Tommy was in a much larger and plusher office than the one he’d been in yesterday. But it had the feeling of being temporary, or recently set up. It didn’t have the appearance of someone who spent a great deal of time here. There were no family photos, and only a few generic pieces of art.
“Well, you have assets of over a billion dollars worldwide; you own large pieces of undeveloped real estate on three continents. You also own three different homebuilding companies, two of which cater to the middle class, and one which offers custom homes catering to the upper middle class. You’re not publicly traded, so you are likely owned as a family business, in which case you are likely not the founder of this company, but rather an inheritor. I would further guess that your interests are more focused on slow expansion and asset protection rather than increasing market share,” Tommy said.
Shea grinned and nodded throughout.
“Very, very accurate. Very astute. Do you know what the most common question during the first screening process was?” Shea asked.
Tommy had a good guess, but he played dumb.
“No idea,” he said.
“What kind of health benefits we have. What our education program is like. Do we help with student loans,” he said. Tommy nodded, wondering if Shea was inviting a comment. Tommy knew when to keep his mouth shut. “You, on the other hand,” Shea continued, “wanted to know information about the company that you couldn’t find on your own. That’s why I was interested in you. I want somebody I don’t have to train, that I don’t have to micromanage. I want somebody to whom I can give a brief outline of what I want, and then you will hit the ground running,” Shea said. His prior easygoing demeanor had turned serious.
“And what is it that you want?” Tommy asked.
Shea spent several seconds tapping on his keyboard, and then turned his monitor around so Tommy could see it.
“What do you see?” Shea asked plainly.
Tommy scooted his chair closer to the desk. He had a leather notebook which contained several documents; he placed it on Shea’s desk while studying the screen. It showed a large piece of north Colorado Springs. The bottom half were houses that Tommy remembered being built as a kid. The top half was undeveloped. Tommy thought he understood what Shea was after.
“I see something you either own, or want to own. I don’t recall who owns that property up here, but these houses are pretty middle, upper middle class. I wouldn’t guess many of them are distressed,” Tommy said. He hadn’t been through there in a while,
but he didn’t think many of them could be in danger of foreclosure.
“Correct again, Mr. Ricker, but I’m not sure it’s how you think,” Shea said.
“And how do I think?” Tommy asked, looking up from the screen, smiling slightly.
“That my family has made our money by exploiting others. That I want to somehow chase these people out of their homes so I can increase my real estate holdings. And I have to admit, you are partially correct,” Shea said.
Tommy leaned back, waiting for an explanation, not sure if he wanted to hear it.
“I do want to eventually own all this land. But only in the long run. Ideally, all those people who are living in those houses will stay there. And their children as well, if that’s what they want. That’s how my family has acquired so much land. We practice the very long view,” he said.
“I’m not sure I understand,” Tommy said.
“This is what I’m thinking. I would hire you, and you would, in your own time and in your way, systematically talk to all of those people. And based on their own financial situation, good or bad, you would find a way for them to stay in their house, owning or renting. I would like to eventually own all this land, but not for me. For my heirs. You see, if I were like some of these other real estate holding companies, I would scoop up foreclosures, rent them out to increase my cash flow. That’s the problem with companies today. Too much focus on cash flow, and not nearly enough focus on asset appreciation,” Shea explained slowly, watching Tommy carefully.
Tommy knew what he was referring to. Many large corporations would buy thousands of houses, and then turn around and rent them to the people they bought them from. It created a huge amount of cash flow which was based on a huge amount of debt. It only worked as long as people could pay their rent.
“What’s the real reason you want those people to stay in their houses?” Tommy asked. Nobody, especially not rich people, was friendly with strangers unless there was a good reason.
“Because it’s a good neighborhood. Crime is very low. The schools are very good. High test scores, low rates of delinquency. Property values are high. I’d like to keep them that way,” Shea explained. “That’s how we’ve acquired so much real estate. We target areas that are high value, and we slowly move in, and keep them high value. Then as the individual owners are ready to sell, we buy. But only when they are ready. We do not force any sales. Real estate is the most valuable thing on earth. We are in no hurry. This piece of land in a hundred years will likely be worth several thousand times what it is worth today.”
“That is quite a long view,” Tommy admitted. “A multi-generational view.” It was also why precious few families on earth owned so many of the resources. In the short term it made a lot of sense. Only buy from those who are willing and eager to sell, and only in a way they are comfortable with. In the short term, it was probably cash flow negative. But keep it up long enough, and you’ll eventually own everything.
“How exactly would I approach these people?” Tommy asked.
“That would be completely up to you. Do whatever research you can on their publicly available financial situation. Figure out a market value estimate of their house, think of an offer, or ask them what kind of offer they want. All up to you. You could even work from home if you’d like, or I could set you up an office here. But you’d probably be out in the field most of the time,” Shea said.
Tommy studied the map. Perhaps three hundred homes.
“What’s your time frame and your budget?” Tommy asked, still not sure.
“Time frame is ten, twenty years. Budget is up to fifty percent over market share for each house. Your salary would be a hundred and fifty thousand, plus commission. Ten percent per transaction,” Shea said.
Tommy needed all of his self-control not to let his mouth hang open.
“So, just for the sake of argument, I make a deal for fifty percent over market, and then they rent the house back from you, but they want a fixed rate, ten percent less than their mortgage, for, say, ten years. Would that be acceptable?” Tommy asked, trying to see how far Shea would really go.
“I would sign a fixed rent contract for up to fifty years, if that’s what it would take to make the sale,” Shea responded coolly.
“At fifty percent over market and a rental payment of ten percent less than their mortgage?” Tommy asked, not sure he understood. No homeowner in their right mind would refuse that offer. And he stood to make a ten percent commission?
“That is correct. But as easy of a sell as that sounds, a lot of people are really attached to the idea of owning, rather than renting. You may find this isn’t such an easy job as it sounds. And once you are turned down, they aren’t likely to change their minds. I would recommend you do plenty of research before even approaching them,” Shea cautioned
“Assuming I take this job,” Tommy said, grinning.
“I’m already convinced by your academic record and background, as well as your meeting with Cristina yesterday, that you are by far the best candidate. The job’s yours if you want it. Take a couple days to think about it?” he asked, standing.
“Yes sir, I’ll do that,” Tommy said, shaking his hand.
Seven
Tommy drove for about an hour before he decided to make the call. By the time the interview was over, it was nearly three thirty. If he went home, he’d have to spend an uncomfortable few hours while his dad went through his nightly ritual. He was in too good of a mood for that. After deciding to go through with his spur of the moment decision, he pulled over and parked. Reached into his briefcase and pulled out his smartphone. Practiced once in the mirror, and then dialed.
“GenSpan, how may I direct your call?”
“Dr. Berg, please,” he said confidently, and waited.
“This is Dr. Berg,” she answered, a little curious.
“Hello, my name is Agent Smith with the department of gene splicing, we believe you are operating without a license,” he said spontaneously.
“What? Who is this?” she asked. Tommy could picture her smile.
“It’s Tommy. You got plans for dinner?” He had to wait until she stopped laughing. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“No, I don’t, what time were you thinking?” she asked finally.
“Anytime. I just finished a pretty good interview. Which means I’m wearing a suit, if that’s OK,” he joked.
“Well, only if you promise to take off your tie. You mind coming by here?” she asked.
He agreed and she told him to get there around five thirty. That meant he had an hour to kill. He drove to the Promenade and wandered aimlessly. He couldn’t get Shea’s incredible offer out of his mind. If he only closed on one property every six months, that would be more money than he’d hoped to make within the next decade. Was he really only interested in the property?
“Hello, Tommy Ricker for Dr. Berg,” he said to the receptionist. She immediately looked down at the list of appointments, and he could see the confusion creep into her expression.
“I’m a friend, we’re meeting for dinner. She’s expecting me,” he explained. She smiled, nodded, and then made a quick phone call. He didn’t bother waiting for instructions; he turned around and took a seat in one of the very plush chairs. As soon as he sat, he got a text.
“Little behind, please wait!” it said, followed by several interesting emoticons. He texted back a very plain-looking “no prob.” He relaxed back, taking in the surroundings. There was another person waiting, same age as him. Wearing a suit like him. Tommy waited until he was off the phone before giving him the “what’s up” nod. The man stood up, came over, and extended his hand.
“Santiago Batiste, Cutting Edge Capital,” he said professionally.
“Tommy Ricker, unemployed,” Tommy replied as plainly as he could.
“Here for an interview?” Santiago asked, sitting down in the chair next to Tommy’s.
“No, here for a date,” Tommy said, smiling. “But I
did just come from an interview, that’s why I’m wearing this.”
“Oh, got it. I’ve got a dinner meeting with Bradley Pena, you know him?”
“No, I’m afraid not. Viviana, the girl I’m meeting, this is kind of our first date,” Tommy explained.
“Jesus, dude! That means you’re more nervous than I am! That’s their PhD geneticist, right?” he asked.
Tommy nodded. “Yeah, but so far she seems easy to talk to. Doesn’t get weird or anything, and she even knows I wait tables until I find a decent gig. So you’re here for investing?” Tommy asked, hoping to change the subject.
“Yeah, we’re based on the West Coast, Bay Area, this place is supposed to have some kind of anti-aging miracle drug or something,” Santiago said. “They sent me to feel them out, and if it even sounds like it makes sense, to go ahead and throw some money at it,” he explained.
“How much you talking?” Tommy asked, curious.
Santiago looked up at the receptionist to make sure she wasn’t listening. “I’ve got a green light of up to six mil,” he said.
“Serious? Just off a hunch, or an outside chance something will come through?” Tommy asked.
“Tommy, you have no idea. Last year we invested in a hundred and fifty companies. Average of two mil each. One of them we spun off for a billion and a half. And even that one,” he said, pausing again, “that one it’s still iffy if they’ll ever turn a profit. You have no idea how messed up this market is,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Tommy asked.
“You’ve heard of the ‘greater fool theory,’ right?” Santiago asked.
“Yeah, I’ve got an MBA, hang on,” Tommy said and dug out a business card to hand to him. Santiago gave him his too. “Greater fool theory is that people buy stuff not because they think it’s worth something, but only because they think they’ll sell it to somebody else for an even higher price,” Tommy said, remembering learning that in an undergraduate business class.
