Chapter 553
One Dish
Chapter 553 A Dish (4000 words)
In Anning County, Dongguo, under the sycamore trees at the entrance of the Changhong factory, several old workers in blue overalls squatted in a circle, cigarette butts scattered all over the ground.
"I heard that the Russians didn't even unpack that batch of goods from Moscow; they just left them out in the open to get rained on." Old Zhang stubbed out his cigarette on the sole of his shoe.
“Our sales manager over there came back yesterday. He’s lost a lot of weight and doesn’t say a word.”
"Didn't we sign a contract?" the younger technician asked.
"A contract?" Master Li from the sheet metal workshop next door sneered. "A contract is worthless. The Russians took money from the Japanese and insist that our paperwork is inadequate, making us prepare the materials again. Yesterday, the old factory manager's office was lit up all night; I heard the freight forwarding company canceled the order."
"Damn! How could the freight forwarding company do this? This is our first time clearing customs; we have no experience. How are we supposed to manage without the freight forwarding company's help?"
Old Zhang stood up, dusted himself off, and said, "Who cares what you do? They'd rather pay the penalty for breach of contract than get involved in this mess."
Everyone felt a chill run through them, as if they had been given a bellyful of ice water.
Mr. Li chain-smoked: “My cousin works in the finance department. He said the bank is asking for early repayment of that technology upgrade loan this month.”
Changhong Factory has a large turnover, and banks are very willing to lend money to it.
Three months ago, loan managers from the four major banks came to the factory every day, showing an unusually high level of enthusiasm.
Now, they're actually demanding repayment ahead of schedule, which clearly shows they don't have faith in Changhong Factory!
Ring ring.
The get off work bell rang, and the group of workers were filled with worry. Old Zhang, the eldest brother, warmly invited them to his home for a drink.
Old Zhang is a long-time employee of Changhong Factory. His home is in the Changhong Factory's residential compound, which is only a ten-minute walk away.
The others were worried, but not wanting to bring their anxieties home, they agreed to Old Zhang's invitation.
There's a small night market outside the factory gate, selling fruits and vegetables, steamed buns, dumplings, wontons, and cooked food. The variety is extensive and the prices are relatively low.
Although the goods at the night market stalls weren't as good as those at Pang Donglai, they were right at the factory gate and the prices were cheaper. The Changhong factory workers had money, so the night market business was quite booming.
Mr. Li and his friends bought a roast chicken, a serving of sweet and sour pork, a bag of apples, a few red sausages, and a large bowl of sauerkraut stew with vermicelli. They thought that should be enough for them before heading to Old Zhang's house.
Old Zhang's house is on the second floor, it's 80 square meters, with three bedrooms and one living room.
As soon as I opened the door, a wave of heat hit me! The county is rich, so the central heating is burning very well.
Everyone took off their coats and saw that Old Zhang's wife had already set out the food, and Old Zhang's son and daughter were also at the table.
"Oh my, why did you buy so much stuff?" Old Zhang's wife hurriedly came to greet him.
"Sister-in-law, I'm sorry to bother you."
Since everyone was an acquaintance, we exchanged a few simple pleasantries and then sat down at the table.
Old Zhang opened a bottle of baijiu (Chinese liquor), and the television next to him was playing an advertisement for Panasonic.
You can have an entire living room, but you can't necessarily own a Panasonic monitor.
Old Zhang frowned and went to change the channel.
[World Image, Soul in Every Detail. Japanese Craftsmanship, Worthy of Trust.]
No matter how many channels you switch to, a Japanese color TV commercial will always pop up.
Old Zhang was annoyed by what he saw, so he simply turned off the TV and muttered under his breath, "A copycat! He only knows how to copy Director Lin's methods, shameless."
Master Li downed a glass of baijiu, his mouth full of bitterness: "The Japanese plasma TV ads are too aggressive. When will our factory's plasma TVs be able to hit the market?"
"Don't even think about it. Panasonic has invested tens of billions in plasma technology. What do we have to compare with them? This is just Lin Xiaohe bluffing," Old Zhang's son said casually.
Old Zhang's face darkened, and he said unhappily, "Can't you speak properly?! Don't think that just because you went to college, you can look down on people."
His son wasn't afraid of him at all, and said defiantly, "Let's face reality. Everyone in the East knows that Changhong Factory is facing internal and external troubles. It has failed to open up the Russian market, and its technology in the domestic market can't keep up with Panasonic. Once Panasonic's plasma TVs start production, Changhong Factory won't even get a taste of the soup."
The twenty-year-old, pontificating at the dinner table, said, "Dad, and a few uncles, you really need to start planning early. While the Japanese are willing to offer high salaries to poach talent, you should seize this opportunity. Water flows downhill, and people strive for higher positions. Who doesn't like money?"
Old Zhang glared angrily: "You brat, if you say that again, believe me, I'll whip you with my belt!!"
"Sigh, Dad, what era are we living in? People laugh at poverty but not prostitution! You know Scarface from Building 3, right? He didn't even finish junior high, he was just a good-for-nothing. But he makes so much money running a foot massage parlor! Every neighbor in the compound looks up to him!"
Old Zhang's wife looked displeased and slapped her son on the back of the head, saying in an unfriendly tone, "You've been to his foot massage parlor?"
It's called a foot massage parlor, but it's actually a folk kiln.
Old Zhang's son rubbed the back of his head, feeling aggrieved, and said, "I've never been there. I was just giving an example! The Japanese pay Dad 5000 yuan a month, that's a great deal! Mom, can you talk to Dad and tell him why he insists on staying at the Changhong factory?"
Old Zhang's wife put a chicken leg on her daughter's plate and said indifferently, "What do you know? You've had a few good years, have you forgotten when we were so poor that your father had to sell his blood?"
Old Zhang's wife said with tears in her eyes, "Back then, life was so hard. During the Spring Festival, we couldn't even afford flour to make dumplings. You were still in high school, a time when you were growing, and you were so hungry that you would talk in your sleep about wanting dumplings. Your dad... had to sell his blood to afford a meal of dumplings."
Her hands trembled involuntarily: "When you got into university, your father and I were so worried about your tuition that we couldn't sleep at night. Your father even considered selling a kidney... Later, it was Factory Director Lin who brought the factory back to life and paid everyone's wages, which helped us recover. During the most difficult time, Factory Director Lin didn't abandon us. Now that the factory is in trouble, how can we just leave like this? Wouldn't that be traitorous?"
Old Zhang's son said helplessly, "Mom, you're working in a factory, not being sold to it. What's with all this talk about traitors? We're not selling secrets to the Japanese, we're just changing jobs."
Old Zhang was furious and wanted to beat up the brat, but was stopped by Master Li and the others.
"You don't know anything! Your dad weighs over 100 pounds, why should he get a salary of more than 5000 yuan? Those Japanese devils just want to cause trouble for the factory and for Director Lin! If we old employees leave, what will outsiders think? They'll wonder if Changhong Factory is going to fail, and that's why the workers are resigning. The bank is already pressing for repayment, and seeing this, won't they press even harder? How can the factory still get a loan?!"
Old Zhang didn't know what was wrong with his son. How could going to university have made him so inhuman? He only cared about money, as if he would sell anything as long as there was money to be made.
Old Zhang seemed to have lost all his strength and ability, and slumped into a chair, in great pain: "Changhong Factory cannot collapse! If the factory collapses, what will happen to Anning County? Tens of thousands of people depend on Changhong Factory for their livelihood."
“You study in the capital, where all you see is prosperity and international standards. Our Anning County is thriving because of Director Lin. But you have to open your eyes and look at other places. Your uncle lives in Fushi, which isn't as lucky as our county with Director Lin. Life there is really tough.”
Old Zhang said in a low voice, "A few days ago, your uncle caught a robber, but not only did he fail to arrest the criminal, the police station also donated 200 yuan to the criminal." Huh?
None of them had heard of this before, and they asked in surprise, "What happened?"
Old Zhang sighed deeply: "Your uncle received a call reporting a robbery, so he led a team to the scene. When they arrived, they found a man and a woman kneeling on the ground, kowtowing to each other. The man said, 'Sister, please give me this 20 yuan.' The woman didn't say anything, she just kept crying and kowtowing."
"When your uncle went up to ask, he found out that the man was a laid-off worker who was robbing people on the street. The woman was a Postal Savings Bank employee who had just withdrawn her salary. The man didn't rob much; he only took 20 yuan."
“No matter how difficult it is, robbery is never right. My uncle had just handcuffed the prisoner when the prisoner begged him to let him go home and settle his three or four children.”
"My uncle and his colleagues went home with the prisoner, and they fell silent as soon as they opened the door. The house was bare, with nothing at all, and the four children were so hungry that they didn't even have the strength to cry. My uncle searched the house and found that the rice jar was slippery and wet, and even a mouse would slip inside."
“What else could be done in this situation? If the man goes to jail, his four children will starve to death. Your uncle reported it to the police station, and after they verified the situation and confirmed it was true, they launched a donation drive and raised 200 yuan for the man.”
It's not that they didn't want to contribute more, it's just that the police didn't have any money in their pockets.
As soon as Old Zhang finished speaking, the whole room fell silent.
No one expected that there would still be people living such a hard life.
Old Zhang poured himself a glass of baijiu, took a sip, and said, "This kind of thing is all too common. Many factories in our provincial capital can't even pay wages. I once heard Director Lin say that if we don't do something about it, it will only get worse. Director Lin wants to change the situation and help the province's workers, but the province needs to assess Director Lin's capabilities!"
Old Zhang only knew the general outline: Director Lin had tailored a plan for the province, but many people at the higher levels did not trust Director Lin and shelved the plan.
The reason why Director Lin worked so hard was twofold: firstly, she wanted to defeat the Japanese, and secondly, she wanted to prove to her superiors that she was capable, more capable than anyone else!
Old Zhang's son opened his mouth, but in the end said nothing. He didn't acknowledge the gratitude his parents spoke of, but he couldn't persuade them; anything he said would be in vain.
The next afternoon, in the factory office's small conference room.
The window was open, and the ashtray was filled and emptied repeatedly.
The banner on the wall, proclaiming "Exploring the Eastern European Market," hadn't been taken down yet; its red background and white lettering were quite glaring.
The deputy factory director in charge of finance pushed the report forward: "We've talked to all three banks, and there's no chance of a loan renewal. That Xiao Liu from ICBC was polite, but his meaning was clear: unless there's government backing, they won't dare to fill this hole again."
The deputy factory manager in charge of sales closed his notebook: "There's no attitude. Everyone's talking about letting go now, but these are all market-driven behaviors."
There was a few seconds of silence in the meeting room.
“Actually…” Old Huang, who was appointed by the province to serve as the deputy secretary of the factory last month, began, his voice low, “A few days ago, there was a dinner party in the city, and some old friends talked to me about this privately. Their idea was that since the company has come to this point, rather than letting the bank sue for bankruptcy, we should take action ourselves first.”
How do I move?
Old Huang flicked away his cigarette ash, without directly answering: "The management buyout plan."
General Manager Chen, who was in charge of technology, frowned: "Acquisition?! Who will acquire it, and on what grounds? They've wanted to acquire our Changhong factory before, and they still haven't given up? Let me make this clear: unless Factory Director Lin acquires our factory, anyone who wants to acquire it will have to step over my dead body!"
Mr. Chen was cursing and swearing, and he didn't even give Lao Huang a friendly look.
"Ahem, mind your manners." Old Huang glanced at him and drew a circle on the table with his finger. "We're just following the normal path of enterprise reform."
"Get lost!" General Manager Chen interrupted him. "Our Changhong factory has walked this path before. We all know how it turned out. If it weren't for Director Lin, would we be sitting here drinking tea in peace?"
Old Huang smiled, picked up his teacup, and pretended to be magnanimous, saying, "Anyway, everyone outside is saying that Changhong is going to go under. What do you guys think we should do? There's still a lot of inventory in the warehouse."
General Manager Chen stared at him intently: "Old Huang, what do you mean? The factory manager isn't here, so you start causing trouble?"
Old Huang smiled wryly, "I don't want to either, but I just get so many calls."
The old factory director, who had been silent all along, suddenly spoke up: "No one can touch our factory. If we really go bankrupt, we will only sell it to Director Lin."
There was a sudden knock on the door, and the office director poked his head in: "Leaders, a reporter from the city TV station is here. They want to interview us about the progress of the Eastern European market. What should we do?"
The deputy factory manager in charge of sales waved his hand and said, "Just say I'm on a business trip."
A short while later, the office director came again: "The factory's worker representatives have something to report."
The old Party Secretary was taken aback, then quickly stood up: "Let them in."
Old Zhang and a few others walked in carrying several boxes.
Old Zhang put the box on the ground and opened it.
It was a whole box of money!
Old Zhang, with a stubble beard and dark circles under his eyes, said, "Boss, these boxes of money are voluntary donations from the workers of our Changhong factory and related factories."
He raised his head, his eyes bloodshot, but his words deeply moved everyone present: "It's not much money, but it's all from our hearts. Changhong Factory will prevail!"
……
Nine o'clock in the evening, in a private room at the Jiangshang Yujia restaurant in the city.
We'd almost finished the food, so we opened a second bottle of Moutai.
At the head seat by the window, a middle-aged man with his hair neatly combed placed his mobile phone face down on the table: "This afternoon, I received a call from the provincial government saying that regarding Changhong's matter, the principle is to respect market rules. If the company can find a solution on its own, then it should."
The person on the other end quickly replied, "That's exactly what we mean. The management knows the company best. Having us restructure it is not only responsible to the employees, but also to the state-owned assets."
"Whether someone is responsible or not depends on the outcome." The middle-aged man picked up a toothpick and said in a calm tone, "As long as people are safe, assets are not lost, there are people to do the work, and taxes are paid, what the name is or who controls the company is not that important."
"That's right, that's right." The group nodded in agreement.
Even before Changhong Factory went bankrupt, these people already regarded it as a dish on the table, and they had already discussed how to use it and how to divide it.