How A Poor Lady Made Me A Wiser Rich Guy

Around six or eight years ago, as I don’t remember precisely when I was in Shanghai, I got a call from one of my father’s business circle friends who had moved to the United States. He is a pretty rich man who used to have plenty of factories and export businesses in Syria but moved to America during the Syrian civil war.

The gentleman wanted me to help him purchase many containers of cheap goods from China and ship them to the U.S. He plans to sell these cheap commodities at his one-dollar stores in America.

At that period of my life, I was close to being broke and needed the money, so I accepted the offer. I packed my bag and visited different cities, met many suppliers, and negotiated with plenty of accounts managers and company representatives whose only job was to deal with foreigners.

One of the suppliers is a massive corporation, selling everything you can think of; I decided to work with them. They, in exchange, wanted to send an account manager to invite me to a nice restaurant and negotiate the deal’s details over dinner.

The account manager, around 32, seemed pretty excited about her job. At the dinner table and after talking about business deals and she got drunk a little, she started talking about how the standard of living is getting better in China and how she has a better life now.