Chapter 99 - Do You Even Like It? #3
Instead it became more interesting.
That was worse.
Family noticed.
Again.
Ate Bianca saw me at dinner staring into space.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Company?"
Maybe.
Mama sighed.
"Again?"
"I'm not buying it."
Nobody believed me.
Rude.
Papa asked—
"What company?"
"Manufacturing."
Kuya Nathan stopped.
"Manufacturing what?"
"Plastic."
Sofia stared.
"You print paper."
"I own other things."
"That does not answer my concern."
Ate Vivian laughed.
Then Mama asked—
"Do you like plastic?"
I stared.
Everyone started laughing.
"What kind of question is that?"
"The same question."
There.
Again.
Do you even like it?
I sighed.
"I like the business."
Ate Bianca asked—
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"Or do you like that it's broken?"
Silence.
Fuck.
I looked at her.
She raised an eyebrow.
No business degree necessary.
Just older sister violence.
"I don't know what that means."
"Yes, you do."
I returned to eating.
Conversation over.
Jane and Chloe got the simplified version later.
Not because they asked for business advice.
They came over with food.
Sat on my couch.
Chloe saw my industrial-site visitor badge on the counter.
Picked it up.
"What is Nova Polymer?"
I took it from her.
"Company."
Jane looked at me.
"No."
I stared.
"What?"
"No."
"You don't even know what it is."
"I know your pattern now."
Chloe laughed.
"What do they make?"
"Plastic components."
Jane's entire face changed.
"You don't even print plastic."
"That is not how business ownership works."
"Lia."
"What?"
"How much?"
"No."
"I didn't ask purchase price yet."
"You were going to."
"Yes."
"No."
She leaned back.
Then asked the worse question.
"Do you even want a plastic factory?"
I paused.
There it was again.
Why did everybody keep asking the wrong question?
"I want the company if the numbers make sense."
"That wasn't the question."
"Everybody keeps saying that."
"Maybe because you keep answering a different one."
Chloe quietly ate noodles.
No help.
Traitor.
Jane looked at me.
"Do you like it?"
"I like fixing companies."
She blinked.
Then—
"That's not the same thing."
Something in my chest reacted.
Small.
I ignored it.
"It doesn't need to be."
"Why?"
"Because ownership isn't a hobby."
"Okay."
"If the company produces good returns after turnaround, that matters."
"Okay."
"If I can build management, it doesn't need me personally."
"Okay."
"If it strengthens the group—"
"Lia."
"What?"
She smiled slightly.
"You're doing the thing."
"What thing?"
"Explaining why you can fix it."
I stopped.
Chloe looked between us.
Then very quietly—
"She didn't ask whether you can."
Rude.
Both of them.
I stood.
"Anybody want water?"
Jane laughed.
Escape successful enough.
The final numbers were ugly.
But solvable.
Asking:
?24 million.
No.
Normalized value given equipment condition and required reinvestment:
much lower.
Expected immediate repair and improvement capital:
significant.
Likely machine replacement within two years:
very significant.
Working capital:
substantial.
Turnaround timeline:
two to three years.
Management attention:
high.
Risk:
highest acquisition I had considered.
I should have walked.
Instead I negotiated.
Hard.
Very hard.
Mr. Tan wanted twenty-two.
I offered sixteen.
He laughed.
Good.
We moved.
Slowly.
Eighteen.
Twenty-one.
Eighteen-five.
Twenty.
I stopped.
Walked.
Actually walked.
For eleven days.
Then he called.
?18.8 million.
Asset acquisition plus selected operating contracts.
Some molds separately verified.
Specific liabilities excluded.
Inventory adjusted after count.
Holdback for equipment condition representations.
Transition support.
I stared at the number.
Not cheap.
Not insane.
Still expensive.
Then I looked at the model.
Under conservative assumptions—
fixable.
There.
That fucking word.
I signed.
?18.8 million.
Plus significant turnaround capital.
I did not tell Jane.
Obviously.
If she had almost fainted at ?2.7 million, I did not need to be responsible for an actual medical emergency.
The day after closing, I stood inside Nova Polymer wearing safety glasses and looking at a production board.
Engr. Paolo beside me.
New management meeting scheduled.
Maintenance review.
Customer profitability.
Mold audit.
Quality.
Capital plan.
People.
Systems.
Machines.
Problems everywhere.
I should have felt overwhelmed.
Instead—
I felt alive.
There.
That was probably the problem.
I looked at the operation.
Ugly numbers.
Aging equipment.
Real risk.
A company that would require years.
And all I could think was—
I know what to do.
Not all of it.
Not alone.
But enough.
Enough to begin.
I smiled.
Engr. Paolo noticed.
"Ma'am?"
"What?"
"Nothing."
Apparently my face had betrayed me again.
I looked across the factory.
Do I even like it?
Maybe that was the wrong question.
Or maybe everybody else was asking it too early.
First—
I would fix it.
Then I could decide.