Chapter 19: Not Expensive

"Alright, alright, don't give me that look. Let me tell you, this chair is really comfortable to sit on. Don't underestimate it just because it's a folding chair; you can use it as a regular chair at home. Plus, look at this festive red color, it matches so well with my blue sports car."

"Red and blue make a perfect match since ancient times. When we're on the road and see a beautiful view, we can stop the car, set up these two chairs, sit back, have a cup of coffee, enjoy the scenery, and then continue our journey. That's what makes traveling so delightful!"

After being stared at by Melissa as if he were a fool for a long time, Carter couldn't stand this strange look anymore. If he didn't explain himself, he was afraid he would earn the reputation of being eccentric in Douglas, where he would be living for the next two years. Carter didn't want to become a "celebrity" in Douglas, attracting attention wherever he went.

"Hehe."

With a cold laugh, Melissa quietly watched her brother's sophistry. A hundred and ten folding chairs? Are you really going to use them for customers to rest outside the bank? When will there be over a hundred people queuing in front of our bank?

Oh, the collective withdrawals a few days ago don't count.

Eight teller windows seemed redundant; there were still queues.

"Mr. Blake, it's all tallied up. One hundred and ten folding chairs, $3 each, totaling $330. The family tent is $58, so $388 plus tax comes to $415.32. You can just give $415.30. As for the delivery bill, the driver will bring it to the recipient, so we won't collect it now."

"Alright, no problem. I'll write a check now."

Apart from finding the rounding down by the cashier somewhat strange, Carter had no objections elsewhere. The comprehensive sales tax in Georgia usually hovers around 7%, which is neither high nor low, very moderate indeed.

Four hundred dollars might seem like a lot to an ordinary American at the time, but don't forget, he still had over six million dollars in his account. The money borrowed from the bank had been transferred to Carter's personal account before departure without interest. Four hundred dollars? It's just a drop in the ocean!

Now it was 1979, and China had just begun its reforms. Carter knew that at this time, China urgently needed foreign exchange to develop its economy. He couldn't do much, even if he had six million dollars in his hand. Even though each chair might only bring in one dollar in China, it was still a contribution, however small.

As he wrote the check, Carter couldn't help but feel a little emotional. The greater the ability, the greater the responsibility. In his previous life, he wanted to do some good deeds, but all he could manage was to donate ten dollars to the charity fund each month as a token of goodwill. Now he could buy over a hundred useless chairs at once, and it felt almost the same as donating ten dollars in his previous life.

Instead of feeling distressed, he felt a little ashamed. Wasn't it too little?

"Excuse me, can this grill be a little cheaper? $23 is a bit much; can we make it $21?"

As Carter was writing the check, the black father and son who had previously seen the salesperson free up hurried over. The black father was holding a grill, looking nervous as he glanced at the salesperson.

Don't think there's no bargaining in America; it's quite normal in most stores. Especially in not so prosperous times, it's even more common. Speaking of which, it's quite rare to see a black middle-class family like this coming to an outdoor store to buy camping gear. At least they're middle class, which is relatively rare among black people nowadays.

Curious, Carter turned his head to look at them. The black father was wearing a short-sleeved plaid shirt and khaki pants, a very common middle-class attire. The child stared at the small grill in his father's hands eagerly.

"Hey, how many times do you have to ask? I said $23 is $23! Buy it if you have money; if not, get out!"

Facing Carter, the salesperson, who had been polite, became impatient with the black father and son. Not only did he impatiently scold them, but he even started trying to snatch the grill from the black father's hands.

"Sir, $22, can you do $22? $23 is really a bit too much. My child's school is organizing an outing. It's his last year in school, and he hasn't participated in any outing activities before. I want to fulfill this small wish for him, but our savings are not much, and we still have to live, so I really can't afford to spend too much money on it. But I really need it."

As the salesperson reached out, the black father hugged the grill in his arms. Just when Carter thought this man was about to stage a live version of "zero-dollar purchase," the black father suddenly burst into tears. It was very abrupt, very inconsistent with Carter's impression of black people crying in a dignified manner.

"My wife doesn't have a job, and the whole family depends on my income to make a living. On one hand, there's the family, and on the other hand, there's my child's dream. You must also be a father, right? I beg you, I beg you to stand in the shoes of a father, pity this child. Even if it's $23, can you let me take it away for $22, and I'll come back next month to pay the remaining $1."

"Dad, we don't want it anymore! Let's go!"

Unlike the tearful plea of the black father, the black boy behind him seemed a bit indifferent. He silently stared at the salesperson, tugging at his father's sleeve. Perhaps he also realized that his idea was too burdensome for the family.

This noisy drama made Carter, who was watching from the sidelines, feel a little depressed. He couldn't help but think of a line from "Dying to Survive": There's only one disease in the world, and that's poverty!

But Carter wasn't a saint either; he didn't interfere in things that had nothing to do with him. Moreover, black people had never had a good impression on Carter. This was also the reason why, when Goodman simply mentioned it, Carter was willing to temporarily set aside lending to black people in Douglas.

Low quality, violence, easily shouting "black lives matter" and then turning around to bully Asians, these behaviors made it hard for Carter to identify with them.

But thinking of "black lives matter," Carter almost laughed. The "black lives matter" movement in 2013 was one of the headquarters in Atlanta. They even hung a huge portrait of Floyd on the building next to the world-famous fake news production center. Who would have thought that the dominant black people in future Atlanta would be scolded by an ordinary white salesperson like this? This wasn't a bit like "black lives matter"; it was more like "black lives don't matter," or even a bit cheap, unable to even fetch one dollar.

It can only be said that America is too magical. From the Ku Klux Klan's white supremacy, to the white left, black lives matter, it's like a game of musical chairs where you never know what the next political correctness will be.

Wait a minute, what did I just think of? The fake news production center behind the "black lives matter"? CNN!

Yes, CNN's headquarters are in Atlanta. Up until now, Carter seemed to have not seen CNN's programs on television. This, perhaps, was also an investment opportunity?