The entire noon was spent in the restaurant amidst the stench, and there were many onlookers surrounding the area.
The Federation has never lacked onlookers, and watching a show is also a human nature.
Seeing others encounter misfortune or misfortune will give you a sense of happiness from the inside out.
By noon, the restaurant had only served three tables of guests, and when they left, they gave the manager a very harsh accusation, because the restaurant caused them to have a very unpleasant lunch, and they would most likely not come again next time.
In order to retain these guests, the manager had to not only give them a free meal, but also present them with a wine coupon.
They could use it next time they came.
It must be said that the manager was indeed a master of marketing. Don't look at these people saying they will never come again next time, but as long as this coupon is still in their hands, they will definitely come!
If it is the nature of the people of the Federation to love to watch a spectacle, then taking advantage of it is also the case.
The manager decided to have a good talk with Mr. Anderson. Just after one o'clock, he had the shop closed and then had two apprentices stand in the doorway with a hose.
If those people come over to take a shit, just flush away the dung, don't need to stop them, let them shit.
This kind of thing can't be stopped, but it may trigger a bigger riot, so it's better to let them shit painlessly.
The sound of knocking on the door made Mr. Anderson look up and take a look at the manager standing by the door. He looked a bit dispirited and wiped his face, "Feel free to sit down."
This was his break room, with cigarette butts all over the floor. In fact, he didn't smoke heavily, but the events of the past few days had made him want to find something to relieve his sorrow.
The manager walked in and offered Mr. Anderson a cigarette, saying, "We need to have a good talk about this debt of yours."
Mr. Anderson was a little embarrassed, but the manager didn't give him a chance to speak. "If the restaurant can't continue to operate normally, I'll resign next week."
"Mr. Anderson, I am very grateful that you gave me the opportunity to manage such a high-profile restaurant. My job is to make it even more brilliant in my hands."
"But now our ideas and thoughts are in conflict."
"You have caused the failure of the restaurant due to your personal reasons, and we cannot compromise on this issue, which conflicts with your invitation to me and my work here."
"I have no reason or need to stay, Mr. Anderson, although I have expressed my gratitude to you and I will continue to be grateful for the help you have given me in the past."
Mr. Anderson let out a heavy sigh, "I can't come up with this much money right now, it's almost equivalent to half a year's profit."
It's actually been half a year since the manager took over and the business has improved, but the money earned is only 4,000 to 5,000 yuan, and part of it was used to pay off other people's debts.
The rest was used to do various marketing activities as the manager had requested, so that the restaurant's business and reputation began to snowball.
Now he only had less than 2,000 yuan in his hands, and he simply couldn't repay this debt.
The manager, who had some understanding of the restaurant's business situation, spoke in a slightly softer voice, "You can mortgage the house to the bank."
"The restaurant's business is doing well right now, and if it doesn't continue to be affected, the bank will give you a loan."
"They are even more greedy, so as long as you are profitable and can repay the loan, they will definitely give you a loan."
"The interest rate on this loan will be much lower, and we can use part of it to repay Mr. Alberto, and the rest we can rent the next door and continue to expand our business."
Mr. Anderson's house is located on the outer ring, a single-family house of more than 200 square meters, but because it is a bit far from the city center and an old house, the price is not high.
He had the house looked at, and last year, the people who looked at it thought the house was worth a maximum of 12,000 yuan, and he could get a loan of about 7,000 yuan from the bank, which was the most he could get.
Of course, if he was willing to spend 300 yuan to make a few improvements, he could probably get 8,000 yuan, or 8,500 yuan.
His father bought the house, and when his father died, he inherited it.
The house had seen him born, grow up, get married and raise a family in. He really didn't want to mortgage it.
Seeing Mr. Anderson bow his head and remain silent, the manager knew he couldn't keep pushing him. The old man was a bit stubborn.
"I'm just giving you some advice, Mr. Anderson, but I appreciate what you've done for me anyway."
"And you have to be prepared for the fact that the restaurant may not be viable in the end, and when that happens, you won't just lose a house.
"And your career, your dreams, your family, your life, everything!"
The manager finished by patting Mr. Anderson on the shoulder and left.
He walked outside the restaurant, which was closed, and no one came to take a dump, which made the manager feel both angry and amused, although this tactic was unsophisticated and childish.
But there was no denying that it really worked!
Who the fuck is going to want to eat when they're in the middle of a meal, with a good appetite, when suddenly they see someone spraying shit in the street right in front of them, and can smell the stench, and still keep their appetite?
And even if they still have an appetite, they're not going to step on the ground, which may still be covered in shit, to go eat.
The manager had actually noticed Lance in the morning, mainly because of Lance's car.
The car was still parked across the street, and after he told the apprentice to go back to rest, he walked across the street alone.
In the café next door, he saw Lance reading the newspaper.
The sound of footsteps startled Lance, who glanced up, then put down the newspaper and invited the manager to sit down. "What can I get you?"
The manager glanced back at the menu on the counter. 'A classic coffee."
Classic coffee refers to the kind of classic coffee that the Swiss like: coffee in milk with at least two sugar cubes.
"I'm trying to convince him to pay back the money,' the two men hadn't spoken, but they didn't seem unfamiliar at this point.
Lance took out a pack of cigarettes and handed the manager one. "It seems you haven't succeeded."
The manager sighed. 'He probably feels embarrassed and doesn't have that much cash on hand."
Lance took a drag on his cigarette and crossed his legs. 'Our view of 'having money' is not whether he has the corresponding cash. Movable and immovable assets are all manifestations of wealth."
"He has the ability to repay, but he has been refusing to do so. And I've heard that the restaurant's business has been very good in the past few months, under your management."
The waiter brought the coffee, and the manager said thank you, took a small sip, and said, "Mr. Anderson's cooking is very good, and his apprentices are also quite good. I just give people the opportunity to experience his food, that's all."
This was a very humble statement, but Lance liked humble people.
"Have you ever thought about changing jobs?"
"I may start a company in the future, and I need a manager."
The manager became a little interested, "What kind?"
"Consulting services, solving problems, something like a lobbying group."
The manager's interest visibly decreased a lot, "I've never been in this industry and I don't have any connections, I probably can't help you."
Lance didn't feel any regret or anything, he just asked casually, and both of them fell silent.
After a while, the manager suddenly asked, "It's almost dinner time in a few hours, are you still going to find homeless people to poop in front of the restaurant to prevent us from opening at night?"
Lance shook his head. "I originally had such a plan, but seeing that Mr. Anderson needs someone to give him a push, I've decided to try a different approach."
The manager was suddenly interested. "What are you going to do?"
"Don't worry, I won't tell Mr. Anderson, because I also hope that this matter can be resolved as soon as possible."
"If he can make up his mind, I will continue to work here; if he can't, I will leave. So in any case, the worst that can happen is that I will just be a bystander, not someone whose interests are harmed."
Lance was being evasive, "You'll find out soon..."
The manager didn't get much out of him, and didn't linger. He had to get back to preparing for the restaurant's opening that night.
It was clear that the events of the past few days had made many people suspicious of the restaurant. He had to retain these customers while minimizing the impact.
Free meals, lucky draws, gifts, and even the chance to have the chef cook for you personally were some of the ways he could do that.
Lance, meanwhile, made a phone call to Alberto.
As soon as the call connected, he could hear his hearty laughter, "I heard, Lance, that you had someone shit in front of his restaurant."
"What was I supposed to say?"
"Although the method was despicable, the effect was really very good, and I am very satisfied!"
"What kind of help do you want this time?"
"Mr. Corti, do you know where I can find a shit vacuum truck?"