Chapter 1
"You know, Enzo. The only way I speculate where we can make this damn startup to work is marriage."
This young man looked at me with disbelief.
"What the hell?"
I nodded.
"I'm not lying. But if you're the hopeless romantic type with all those feelings, I would also wager that you prefer to marry the woman you love. The question is... does she love you back?"
I grinned and chuckled at my teasing while Enzo furrowed his brows and ceased talking.
"Did you ate something peculiar today, Addie? Are you restless to settle down already? I can introduce you to my friends, you know."
I sighed out and shook my head.
"I hate this bureaucracy. Fuckin' papers and all shit. But I will hate to see your face every day even after work anyway. The easy route of wedding church bells won't work. I want long-term profits and results."
He ceased talking, started working the documents until the printer spewed out the hardcopies of our business proposal.
"Try to please the potential investors first, will you? Or do you want me to do all the work myself and become a freeloader yourself? Come on, Disney princess. Your princess syndrome will not work."
I rolled my office chair inside this rented office-whatever-cafe they have here in Makati. Grinning at Lorenzo Marquez, a privileged boy straight out of international business school.
Please.
Right now, he's taking up his masters degree of business administration in La Salle.
Twenty two years old, fresh graduate and I still wonder why the hell he signed up for my pitch when I sold it somewhere at a start up caravan.
The first meeting I had with Enzo is vague. All I knew is I had to both make up some nonsense words and some truth to make a good story. I'm not a sales agent, however.
But since it's my own work, I actually believed in my self-delusion.
I was in our stall that time, I belonged to a national public funded university and it was our last capstone for our graduation requirements.
With all the necessary cardboard and imaginary product display and some visualized AI-generated illustration of my pitch, he just sauntered in and looked around.
"Why agriculture?"
The first thing he asked when I stood up to do a typical friendly greeting like I'm an overworked and underpaid worker in Jollibee.
Well, screw this man if I'm addressing him as superior. We're around the same age.
"I did it because when I was a kid, my parents always worry how they should buy rice. They couldn't own a land, my family is a tenured farmer back in the province."
His bemused expression turned to me fully.
"Social cause is nice. Put if it doesn't guarantee profits, it's not business. Is this manufacturing?"
Says by a man whose reality is out of touch from the ordinary people like us.
"Oh, that will expand soon enough. But right now, I want to take the established trade of these middlemen. I'm planning to enter smoothly and compete with them, you know. Take a large share of their market before expanding to manufacturing. Hoard the supply chain of onions like a corrupt politician."
He laughed.
"Politics is bad for business. You only care for it when it affects your trade. You're a good talker, miss?"
His eyes looked at my name card.
"Adarna? Wow. The legendary Adarna bird."
"My parents use to love watching local mythology. Addie—"
I clipped before adding.
"That's a shorter nickname. Easier to say."
"Enzo, by the way. Our own stall is over there."
He pointed to a stall that's obviously says a lot about what university he comes from. Right. Private university.
"We're trying to do equities. But looking at your portfolio makes me think a bit. Would you want to have our business card?"
I see...
A business that only this boy can actually spout.
Screw prejudice. If he has the money, I'll have it.
So I recalibrated on my social pleasing skills that I can muster. A plastic quality at its finest.
"Oh no, I'm grateful to have you on our stall, Sir Enzo. I should be the one handling our business cards."
"By all means..."
The privileged boy said.
After that, Enzo realized he prefer hands-on business than speculative finance.
And that's our history.
Done being a sentimental but idle colleague that I am, I stood up from my swirling chair and took the documents, examining it like I'm detecting some fraud somewhere in this imaginary business I put up with.
After our history, we ended up negotiating a partnership. That's why you could see right now our own coffee drinks.
Enzo had a large size cold latte sweating out beside him and my own boba tea dripping the excess sweat from its cup.
I cannot fully articulate my business. I know I'm fucked, I just know it's there.
"Why can't we just put up and rent a small stall while we see where this is going?"
I looked up, for me to only see Enzo in a pensive look with one arm on the pillow, fingers tapping the table.
"I can get off the bus and say I quit—"
"Loser. You're already quitting because it's not glamorous enough for you?"
Enzo shook his head
"It's because I don't see that its own founder is dedicated after all. Addie, tell me. What's exactly your business?"
I returned skimming the papers again before replying.
"It's a service type, sir."
"What service? Way to trick the poor farmers and sell an empty promise?"
I smirked before flipping the pages to notice a gap on the value chain.
"Nice try. Keep going, Enzo. Let's start with a wholesale retail. Put up a stall, and I'll look for partners whom we can work with as suppliers. If we ever need investors, it's because a big capital can help us purchase the failing rice fields they might sell for residential villages. A crap nobody actually subscribes to. Except real state wanted to shove these out-of-touch houses to a community whose livelihood is farming. Push out the local people and introduce these gentrified middle-class random people who didn't even grew up there."
I paced through the room before throwing the papers on the table.
"You should propose these financing products which will sustain the farmers to a rent-to-own type model. We will need something that's feasible to secure their livelihood, while they remain loyal to us. Who will be our potential investors?"
I continued and asked.
"My friends."
Enzo breathed in nonchalance.
My voice cracked a laughter inside the room.
"Screw you. Don't tell me that I have to convince your father next as if I'm proposing to you?"
"I'm too young to accept marriage proposal, Addie..."
Enzo replied with a fake feminine voice acting like a bashful bride to be.
"I'm serious. One of our investors could be your father?"
"Definitely not. Who do you think I am? A dependent?"
"Ooh. So you're the type of man who speaks those positive sayings like I can do anything with my determination?"
"I don't need talking to prove my point. That's your job, Addie. Don't worry about the investors. Right now, I have contacts to those who are willing to take the agriculture industry. You have to talk your way with them. You will also get the supply chain that you're talking about to prove something while I do the finance."
Enzo swirled his chair and gave me a measured look before sipping his coffee.
Is that suppose to be a mic drop?
I sat across him. My hand absentmindedly brushing my chin.
"We should start slow, make a test drive. I'll deal with these paperworks and get the business permit done. Maybe when I can check the market feasibility in practice, that's the only time we should aggressively court these investors."
"So how should we raise our capital for now? Savings? Or borrow somewhere at a multi-cooperative bank?"
Both of us chuckled.
"That's the most available option. Let's go for the multi-cooperative. Let's see what we can learn working for them."
The last memory I had of that was Enzo shaking his head. But he eventually proceeded to research those multi-cooperative banks that are willing to let us borrow a capital.
Two more years and I would eventually have a cramp office with only a single stand fan. Along with a secretary assistant I've hired to check all those paperworks.
Half a month more and I've started reaching for my family's former landlords to ask for their network of farmlands that are withering so we could bid an early purchase.
All I did was at that time was to keep grinding until my own drive consumes me like a hunger finally replenished.
Before I became more aware, Enzo was now standing in front of me at the executive office of a medium enterprise of what we started.
He was in a business suit. He's now twenty-six years old. How time flies. I'm also past my middle twenties.
"The Vietnamese liked your model, Addie. However, they are more focused to work with you when it comes to experimenting with their rice breeds. We have the old-guard Filipino business tycoons, but they prefer to take a significant share with the company. If you're willing."
"Hell, no. It will only be a matter of time before they eye for the land and take it as their own. Those old greedy bastards love expanding and monopolizing the best they can. They'll do anything to choke the new entrants competing for their trade. Don't tell me you approached that dynastic family who sits at the highest office in agriculture."
"They overestimated their market value in PSE last time. Who the hell would like to work with that sort? I've heard enough accounts too."
"Anybody else? The Vietnamese, the familiar Filipinos... Who else?"
"Well, there's one. But they're elusive. They already established businesses within the different islands of Visayas. There's an effort there too in Mindanao."
"Who?"
"The Japanese investors. But—"
Enzo inhaled.
"You need strong credentials to make yourself attractive for their investment portfolio. The thing about this is if you succeed, you'll also get their manufacturing leverage."
My lips straightened, planting my head on my hands and drifted off to a thought.
"Are they even the right type of investor for this risk taking activity?"
"You got the small parcels of land now and farmers directly working to keep the business inflow and outflow."
"Well, it's nice that they have bases in Visayas and Mindanao, but I'm thinking about the type of ruthless hustle of the Singaporeans. They know how to disrupt the Southeast Asian market. Or maybe the Thais or Malaysians?"
"I couldn't find a Thai. There's no Malaysian and Indonesian so far. Chinese, there's many—"
"No. Forget about the Chinese. Who knew if their money came from the last offshore gambling trade they have here? They might as well do some money laundering."
Enzo sat as he exhaled. Brushing his hands on his slacks, he waited patiently.
"I want the Singaporeans."
I muttered.
"They play like the Chinese. They're penny pinchers to their lowest employees and would profit ten times more than they pay."
Enzo replied.
My brows furrowed on this.
"Who said that?"
"Grab. Heard a news that they keep their employed delivery drivers to take out a loan with 200% compound interest that will eventually be a lifetime debt in order for them to keep working."
My mouth winced in disgust.
"Had we not enough Filipino suffering when it comes to lifetime servitude?"
"Well—"
Enzo sighed again.
"If you want the premium of them all, we can woo the Australians. Or for peak assurance, a well-versed American angel investor. I know some."
"Not a foreigner whose climate and culture doesn't center on the rice fields."
Enzo flung his hand and made a dismissive sound.
"They know about sugarcane and corn, though."
"I won't doubt it. They also know how to exploit."
Enzo looked at me with reproach.
"Don't begin with that type of prejudice, Addie."
My chair twirled as I leaned back to rest my head and stared at the ceiling.
"You won't find me flirting around with a foreigner who doesn't even eat rice. Not with a foreigner who has no idea how to sow a rice and irrigate volumes of water just to make them grow."
I whispered quick.
"Would you want me to soon explain to an Australian or an American board of director how different phases occured in rice planting? Do you think they have the patience to listen about how seedlings are transferred and be moved to a well sustained loamy and water-filled rice field?"
Enzo, in his typical manner, no longer made a reply. Instead, he relaxed. Slouching in the soft leather sofa this office has, he observed in contemplation. His legs are crossed, with a stretched out arm against the back of the sofa, crumpling that tailored suit he began wearing ever since our business expanded.
His one foot played, but he suddenly moved to reach out to the table for some tea or coffee that suits him.
"Now what?"
Enzo murmured. Taking a cup and a teaspoon before pouring a hot water.
"You cannot go on like this for a very long time, Addie. If you can't make up your mind, I'll do it my way."
"Any suggestions?"
I replied.
Enzo paused, and straightened himself. He swept me a brief look before returning to his coffee.
"What's your goal?"
"Own what's rightfully I worked for. I wanted land for those who actually do the labor."
"Ah..."
Enzo gave a placid smile.
"But our case is capitalism. You get to work for the lowest cost and generate the highest profit."
He replied.
"Sounds like exploitation."
I returned.
Enzo chuckled, then made a toast before drinking his coffee.
"I'll deal with the angel investor. He's not a foreigner, however. Just a local investor."
"From an old family tycoon?"
He shook his head.
