Loan Dolphins



Woofers and Tweeters
Baking Mix

I’m waiting for the results of a sales pitch for a business which developed out of a hobby:  Woofers and Tweeters whole food baking mixes for dogs.  When I do finally get my first big order, will I be able to afford to buy the materials to deliver?  I’m working on a shoestring and trying to juggle several new ventures simultaneously.  Not the best way, I know, but I’ve just recently gotten my Mojo back, as a friend calls it, after life’s latest hiccup, and this is one last-ditch attempt to stay afloat.  The proverbial straw was my printer quitting the day before my first local teaching seminar; it’s bleeding ink and a piece of rubber hangs out the front like a tongue.  I just asked too much of it.

So I went to my friendly banker, Chase, to ask about loans; isn’t the government encouraging banks to help small companies like mine get going?  I admitted up front that I had nothing except a good idea and my enthusiasm, and a possible order from a local market, scheduled to open in August.   And if they don’t want it, I’m going to keep trying; Oregon is great for supporting local businesses and artists.

I had a gallery check for $110 for a piece of gourd art which I underpriced terribly to sell in this economy; I’ve been holding on to it for my rent, but now I’ve got one more thing to pay for.  Was there anything they could do?

“Let’s start with your accounts.”

I was helped by a pair; that's how banks seem to work these days, perhaps double checking each other's info, and Chase is no exception.  I'd been upfront with my combined balances but I don’t think they believed me, then their own eyes, because they kept looking at the screen during the conversation.  I know that look; I’ve seen it in the Credit Counseling office.  They keep hoping they’re misplacing the decimal points.

“What year is your car?”

“It’s a ’91.”

“Hmmm…well, maybe the Credit Union can give you a loan against that.”

“Not you guys, huh?”

“No.  What about a credit card?”

“Nope.  My partner unceremoniously left me and the bills, and I’ve been unable to recover.  The bill collectors are after me, and my credit rating is shot.  Nobody’s buying art, which is why I started Woofers and Tweeters.”

Another glance at the screen.   “Well, there are some people who might be willing to give you a loan with the collateral you have…”

“You mean a loan shark?”

“Well, these are more Loan Dolphins.”

What the hell is that?  I couldn’t believe they suggested it, and I didn't really want to know.  No horse head in my bed, thanks.

“No, thanks, I’m not that desperate yet.  I’ll just cash this check.”  I looked at it again, and was horrified to see that the gallery had changed their bank and it was no longer the same as mine.  I didn’t have enough to cover it.  “Could you just give me a portion of it? 10 percent? ”

“No.  Sorry.  Their bank is (10 miles away).”

My face dropped.  I explained old Trigger sucks gas like a hog.  “What do you drive?”

“A Ford F150, in case I can’t make the rent and I need to pull my 16’ travel-trailer home to the Walmart parking lot.  Please, I just need enough gas money to get back home.”

That was when I learned which banker was higher up the ladder, ‘cause he took my check and walked away.   I explained to Banker #2 about the Co-op’s grand opening next month, and he excitedly looked online to find the location.  #1 returned and pointed where to sign inside the stamp on the back. 



The Painted Lady of Eagle Point

 “How much do you need?”  Ten is enough, thanks.

Oregon’s support of local businesses is well known, and while I continued I could see they realized that despite my dismal marketing skills, I’d done my homework.  I added that I teach free arts & crafts at our local market on Saturdays, and I’m beginning to believe in karma.

“You know, such-and-such market is really big and has lots of customers.”

“Maybe, but I’m already committed to this Saturday kid’s thing, so what, I should bail on my (new) home town’s market just because it isn’t big enough?  I want to be part of this community.”

They just nodded.  I kept babbling as #1 left and returned with $25 in cash, the rest available the next day.

Karma.