America: Starting with Daily Intelligence-Chapter 27 - Scrap Collection Station

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Eito Street Block 16, Recycling Center No. 156.

Dominic came to this scrap purchasing station, lugging big and small bags of cans, and Allen Zhang helped him with a few large bags, each starting at least at twenty pounds.

Walking on the street, he was practically engulfed by garbage bags, with not a person in sight.

Upon arriving at the purchasing station, they glanced at the electronic screen displaying the recycling prices for the day.

Transparent beverage bottles, $1.4 per pound.

Aluminum cans, $1.7 per pound.

Cardboard, $0.01 per pound.

Glass bottles, $0.20 per pound.

Allen also noticed that the recycling prices at this small purchasing station were slightly higher.

It might be because it's close to the bustling district, where there are many recycling centers, making for fierce competition.

The recycling station was only half the size of a basketball court, with an old house, a rusty iron fence, and a beaten-up pickup truck parked outside that had paint peeling off and patchwork repairs. There was no staff, only an old, short, and fat white man.

He seemed to be quite familiar with Dominic too, being a customer for over two and a half years.

He came out of the house and greeted warmly, "Hey, kid Dominic, you finally made it. Let me see how many pounds of cans you've saved up these past few days."

Dominic responded with equal warmth, "Carl, how've you been recently?"

"Of course, I've been very good, everything is great apart from business."

Old Karl answered with humor, "Even had the energy to invite a couple of pretty homeless girls from the street to drink with me at night; we had a pleasant evening, you know what I mean! It's really not easy wanting to 'double up' at my age."

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Dominic gave an awkward smile.

You're over seventy years old, even your grandson's children can walk now, and you're still thinking about that kind of thing?

Old Karl also noticed Allen Zhang beside him, and appeared somewhat surprised to see this new face, "Your friend?"

"This is my friend and business partner Allen. Allen, this is Carl Alfred, the owner of this scrap purchasing station for over thirty years."

Dominic introduced them as the middleman and explained to Allen, "Two years ago when I first ran away from home and was wandering the streets, I didn't know anything. Homeless, starving, and bullied, it was all thanks to Carl who taught me how to survive on the streets and where to collect cans for money."

So, he's the enlightenment mentor of the street-wise guru!

Allen immediately extended his hand, showing a friendly attitude towards the vigorous old man, "Nice to meet you, Carl. Just call me Allen. I'm currently living with Dominic by the Camp under Bridge No. 19."

"You seem like an energetic young man," said Old Karl, with a smile, as he shook Allen's hand and patted his shoulder, then suddenly sensed something odd.

Squeezing his arm, he exclaimed in wonder, "Pal, have you put a steel plate inside your clothes?"

"Haha, you found out!" laughed Allen.

He humorously replied, "If my fists aren't a bit harder than the others, how could some like me survive on the streets with my skin color?"

Old Karl nodded in agreement.

On the streets, it doesn't matter if you're black or white; if your fists aren't strong enough, you'll be bullied every three days.

He had seen and known much, having been involved in street life in his earlier years and fought in many street brawls. With just a touch, he could tell that Allen was someone capable of a knockout punch.

So, are you the ferocious dragon crossing the river?

Old Karl turned to move the weighing basket out of the recycling station, and Dominic helped, pouring all the cans he had painstakingly collected into it.

"Although the profits haven't been great lately and the competition is fierce, I've also been saving up cans without selling them to other scrap stations. I definitely won't disappoint you in terms of weight. I should be able to take at least $210!"

Dominic said confidently, looking at the numbers displayed on the weighing basket.

He usually would collect cans for three to four days before selling them, but this time, he saved up for a week, and had a mental tally for every can he handled.

Old Karl chuckled, "Alright, it's rare that you still think of this old codger. Your brain is still as sharp!"

After everything was weighed, a fair price was calculated.

Aluminum cans, 76 pounds, $129.2.

Transparent beverage bottles, 52 pounds, $72.8.

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Glass bottles 42 pounds, $8.4.

Total $210.4.

Old Karl handed the money to Dominic, cautioning him, "Hold onto it tightly, kid. Don't get robbed as soon as you step out the door."

Dominic had been through such bad experiences; if it were before, he would certainly have taken a detour out of fear. But this time, he wasn't afraid.

"Don't worry. My friends can really fight! If anyone dares to rob me, they're truly kicking an iron plate! Allen will teach them a lesson!!"

Dominic seemed even more confident than Allen Zhang himself.

Old Karl neither agreed nor disagreed, simply spreading his hands, "Ok, as long as you know what you're doing and you're sure you can keep the money safe, that's good."

He wasn't too worried, as few people had the audacity to rob a recycling station.

The money was locked in a safe, only a limited amount of cash was prepared daily, there was a gun in the house, and what kind of fool would come here to rob trash?

Dominic also handed over two $20 paper currency notes to Allen Zhang.

Allen Zhang chose to gladly accept them.

Just by accompanying Dominic on a trip, he received a $40 share.

That was equivalent to Donut running around all day on deliveries, only to end up robbed by a fishing Black man.

This was even when Dominic had just taken over Hopson Street, and as a lone scavenger, wasn't earning much yet.

If they actually managed to take over dozens of streets, open a recycling station, take over the recycling work in the Rich District, form a group of dozens or even hundreds of people, selling directly to recycling companies without middlemen taking cuts, Allen Zhang couldn't even imagine how much money he could make in a day while lying down.

As long as you find the right direction to put your efforts into and have strong personal abilities, making money is relatively easy.

Indeed, no matter the industry, it's important to build a platform, to become someone who can provide jobs and allocate resources for others.

Those Mexicans and South American lao tie working in overseas warehouses who can't even speak clear English, ask what they can do, they say nothing, ask what they have, they have nothing, just put their heads down and do piecework, huffing and puffing as they fabricate with steel containers.

Yet, they all feel like they've gotten a huge bargain, working for themselves, being their own boss!

Because the more they work, the more they get.

Whoever invented piecework was a genius.

Allen Zhang only needs to take a share of the dividends and allocate the street positions; then even more people will be willing to work.

He had already planned to recruit and build a Scavenger team to join the Beggar Gang, to have them work for himself... oh no, to work for themselves!

To strive for freedom and a better tomorrow!

Dominic bid farewell to Old Karl, and the two left the recycling station.

On the way, Allen Zhang also shared his constructive ideas and development blueprint with Dominic.

Dominic was somewhat surprised, "You want to take over all the nearby streets as our turf? Buddy, isn't that a bit too ambitious? Are you trying to start some gang-like operation?"

"I just can't stand seeing those homeless fight over a can, engaging in violence until they're bleeding. The strong form cliques to bully the lone ones."

Allen Zhang shook his head, "We're different from those street gangs in nature. Recycling has nothing to do with drug trafficking or smuggling; have you ever seen a gang member dumpster diving? I just want to find more people to collaborate with, to ensure that everyone can make money, have stable income, eat their fill, and we can earn more dividends."

After giving it some thought, Dominic realized it was still pretty much the gang approach, just a different business.

But actually, that's the essence of the world, paying and charging protection fees.

From one street to industries and even a country.

"Alright, I will pass your idea onto those lone scavengers on the streets," Dominic decided, feeling that this approach wasn't harmful and was worth a try.

The scavenger groups that had already established control over the streets might resist, but those lone scavengers would definitely be keen to join.

After all, having protection versus none on the streets constitutes completely different treatments.

Without backing, when going for relief food, you have to queue at the very end, missing out on the hot meals.

With protection, you can cut in line, and no one would dare to say you lack manners.

But most of those who cut in line are Black people.

Or it's just that the homeless on the West Coast really have no manners.

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