Business License meeting

Business License

On Thursdays I work the night shift, 1 pm to 9 pm.  It’s a good day to sleep in a little, and to put some time in on the treadmill.  But this day I have a number of things to do for the business. 

I need to get the flour sacks up off the shop floor while the men are painting.  This means a trip to the restaurant equipment store to buy some food-grade ‘trash’ bins.  They open at 8, so this is something I can get done quickly before turning to the task of getting the business license.  It seemed that I had all the papers collected to do that task.  Except one.  I need a photo of the shop front stamped by the ‘Logistics Office’.   I had printed out the designer’s mock up, but had not yet gotten it stamped.

So, get the barrels, deliver them to the store, take the photo to the Logistics office, get the stamp, then gather the documents and a Chinese person and go to the right government office.  Pretty straightforward.  My Web colleague Rachel’s mother had agreed to be that Chinese person.

Some days, however, are simply governed by ‘Murphy’s Law’ [Everything that can go wrong will go wrong].  The sooner you discover this fact, the better.

I woke after 7, got dressed, grabbed a granola bar and some soy milk and headed out the door.

I should have seen it right then, but such is the spell of the day.  I know too well that on a long and busy day I simply must start out with a hearty bowl of oatmeal, to carry me through.  But I slipped out the door with only a meager snack.

I caught the number 2 bus in front of the apartment complex.  While sitting in the bus, a text message came through.  It was in Chinese, and no name registered.  I assumed it was from someone envolved in the store decoration.  They asked me to come to the.  I texted back that I would be there at 9:00. 

The bus took me to the equipment store, and I was greeted by friendly faces at the door.  I told them what I wanted.  I knew from the past visit that this sort of goods they kept at a different location.  I said, let’s go.  They hesitated.  They spoke a lot of unintelligible Chinese.  I realized this was getting complicated.  I cut it off quickly, politely exited, and walked down to the other such store on that road.

As I walked, I mentally ticked the minutes away.  I was supposed to be at Web at 9:00.  It was already well past 8:00.

I reached the other store, and again was greeted with familiar smiles.  I explained what I wanted, and we climbed to the third floor.  I measured the tubs.  I asked repeatedly if it was OK to put ‘food’ in there.  I don’t know how to say, “Is it food-grade material?”  I always got the same answer.  “Flour?  Sure.”

The sticker price was 198 rmb, and I needed four.  I pulled out my tape measure.  I had a maximum clearance of 56 cms.  These, with protruding lock tabs, measured every bit of that.  But I decided I could put them into the under-counter bins on the diagonal, and they would fit.  They seemed much more expensive than I had anticipated.

I asked for a price of 700 rmb, about 10% off.  That seemed as far as they would go on the price.  Driven by desperation, I agreed and paid up.  One lady put the tubs on a cart and wheeled it out to the street, where we tried to hail a cab.  None would stop!  There weren’t many empty cabs to begin with, but of the couple we saw in ten minutes one avoided eye contact, the other waved his hand side to side and shook his head “no”. 

Obviously it was the cargo that was putting them off.  I dialed 96196 and handed her the phone, asking her to get the taxi dispatcher to send a car.  But she had no luck connecting to them.  And I thought it had been my bad Chinese, in my previous unsuccessful attempts! 

Another associate drove up on her ebike.  They chatted.  The clock was ticking.  She said we should hang back, and she would hail a cab.  It worked.  We managed to put the tubs in the back seat of the taxi, and I drove off. 

But at the moment I picked my bag up to put it in the taxi, I realized liquid was pouring out of it.  I had tucked a bottle of Mr. Muscle in my bag, thinking to finish cleaning the shop’s wall.  I so easily forgot the last experience, when the squirt top worked its way loose and doused that bag.  The same thing happened again.  This time, all the precious papers I’d been collecting: contracts, leases, copies of ID cards, my passport, designer’s blueprints; all were drenched with cleanser.  I cursed, and cursed and cursed as I scooped up the soggy mess and threw it in the floor well of the passenger side, and jumped in after it.

It was now well past 9:00.  Rachel had called me, reminding me that her parents were waiting.  I assured her I was in the taxi and on my way.

When we arrived at the mall, I asked the driver to continue on south to Hongbei Road where the entrance to the underground parking was.  This added 5 rmb to the fee.  I would take the elevator up, to avoid dragging the tubs from the curb to the shop.

Foiled!  The nearest elevator was out of service.  I had the taxi driver back up to another elevator, though he was uncertain what I was doing.  I jumped out of the taxi, tossed the tubs into the elevator and rose to the ground floor.  As the elevator doors opened, I realized I was just about as far away as if I had gotten out on the ground level.  I struggled a few feet with the tubs, but a shopkeeper noticed and said to his companion, ‘Let’s help our neighbor.’

They each took two, and off we went.

With the help of the painters, I got the flour sacks put away safely in the four tubs; they fit exactly, two sacks to the bin.  I showed them the message on my cell phone.  They nodded.  I had not brought a translator, and so these two workers, fresh faces to me, just made some vague gestures.  The lead man shrugged his shoulders, without really trying to talk with me.  They had almost finished with the off-white blue kitchen paint.  The main room had a white bottom coat on.  They had not yet started with the two ‘toast’ colors I had chosen.  I nodded approval and left.

I rushed upstairs, sweaty and already feeling tired. 

As I gathered the papers together, I remembered the photo.  I searched everywhere for it.  I hadn’t seen it when I scooped up the wet mess.  Where was it?  Had I left it home in the other bag?  Of all days to change bags!

I asked Rachel if I could borrow her ebike.  I quickly rode home.  I immediately noticed how comfortable and smooth her bike was compared to mine, over the very very rough terrain of the city roads and bike lanes.  My second hand bike had no shocks left.  It was the cause for the sudden ‘arthritic’ ache up and down my spine these days.

A careful search uncovered neither the photo, nor the USB stick I had used at the photo shop at the Tesco Mall.

On the drive back to Web I had time to reflect coolly on the morning events.  It was then that I realized that Murphy ruled that day, and “resistance is futile.”

I took Rachel’s mother into a classroom, and realized the father was there too.  Rachel bears a strong resemblance to her father.  Her mother looks young, with a stylish short haircut combed to the front, the bangs on a diagonal.  She wore a rich purple dress.

I apologized for making her wait so long.  I tried, in my poor Chinese, to say how grateful ‘happy’ I was that she was willing to help.  I said I didn’t think this would be a good day.  Sorry she had come out for nothing, but I was happy to meet her.

When we rejoined the group at the tutor’s desks there was a lot of discussion going on.  Daniel walked in then, with his wife.  What happened next was like watching a movie where the tension builds, each party following a different thread, conversations here, phone calls there, and a half hour later the plot has taken shape.  At last the audience is let in on the future direction of the film.

The parents were concerned about liability, if they put the name on the license.  I said, through Daniel, that we would go to a lawyer and draw up a contract releasing them from any liability.  Rena called a lawyer. 

A long conversation ensued. The gathered crowd of tutors and the two couples continued their conversations in halting rhythms.  They were also listening to Rena.  Something she said sparked the conversations in a new direction.  Another snippet of the one-sided conversation spurred another spat of chatter.  Rena hung up and reported that the lawyer said there was no way for such a release, legally.

While all this was going on, I checked my email.  The artist had finally got the sign board right!  But as I tried to download and open it, a problem arose.  The computer couldn’t find the software to open it.  This is puzzling, because it seemed to be a jpg file.  So how would I copy it off and bring it to the color printer?

Daniel came to my right, and spoke in English.

“Look, this is all so that you could get a visa.  What about forming a company?”

 We had talked about this before.  My logic ran this way.. since I would be supplying bread to restaurants that made me a wholesaler, just like any other factory, so I should have a company license. 

“Or, what about getting another company to sponsor me.”  I said Dean’s company was my preference, but Dean had not yet been convinced, and had not yet arranged a meeting with his Israeli boss.  Having spent three years in Israel, I love Israeli people and just wanted to meet this guy on general principals.  But I also thought, knowing Israeli ethics, he might be amenable whereas a German company, of which there are many here in Changzhou, would be too law-and-order to agree to such an arrangement.  Dean is conservative, and I felt Daniel would need to chat with him to bring him into the plan.  Daniel filed that piece of information away and returned to the knot of Chinese conversations going on to my left.

Next, Rachel walked to my right, away from the group speaking in Chinese.  What she said was probably a suggestion from the lawyer.  

“If my parents are going to take on this liability, maybe it would be appropriate for there to be some money involved.  Like shareholder.  What do you think of that?”

“Sure.”  I said, “They should be shareholders, 10%.”

She wrinkled her eyebrows and gave an embarrassed smile, “No, I think that is too much.”

I reminded her that at least for the next year, 10% would mean nothing.  She also then asked if they were to share in the profits, would they also need to put in some money, and what if I incurred debts, would they owe also.  I assured her that all the responsibility was mine, they were contributing significantly by just being the ‘face’ on the license.  The mother had also repeated to my face what she had said weeks earlier through Rachel,  that she wanted to actually help out in the store.

This was translated, smiles all around. 

Rachel blew me a kiss.

Now down to the specifics.  I pointed out that if we were not going to use my name, the lease was invalid.  Rachel’s dad assured me he would have no problem duplicating (faking) another lease.

I would not be needed, then, when they finally went to the government business administration office.  They could arrange that to suit themselves.

We still needed to find an attorney and draw up the papers.

Daniel and I got together over the papers they would need for the license application.  I pointed out that I needed to go back to Tesco to print another picture, as it was necessary to have it stamped by the WuYe “logistics’ office and I had misplaced the original.  He looked off into space.  Oh, yeah.  He had taken it home with him, to ask another opinion about the cost.  He had done that, and said the cost was reasonable.  But he had put the photo aside, forgetting that it needed the official stamp.

We had previously agreed that at this point, whatever photo we used wouldn’t matter.  Later, when the Wu Ye was ready to include us in their mall advertising, they would have a proper photo of the actual signage.  I could use this latest mock up received by email today, if the print shop at Tesco succeeded where I failed in opening  it.

It was 11:30.  I still hadn’t eaten.  Things were finally beginning to wind down.  My attention was drifting off.  I wanted food, and sleep, not necessarily in that order.  My first class was at 2 pm, and I still hadn’t done my preparation.  I had English corner at three, and had not yet decided on a topic.

The conversations began to slow.  The knot disentangled.  Rachel’s parents moved towards the door.  Before they left, Rachel said that they would like me to be their guest in their home for dinner.  We worked out when we would all have time for that.  As they left, so did Daniel and his wife.

The plan was laid.  Others would play out their role, and bring me in when needed.  Quickly the area emptied out.  The visitors left, the staff went their ways in groups to lunch.  I went back to the furthest, darkest classroom and lay down on the floor for a quick nap.