Chapter 53 Selling Peanut at Unreasonable Prices

"Yum? Never heard of it. Are you talking about PepsiCo?"

"No, not Pepsi. It's Yum, the company that manages that chain of fried chicken restaurants. It might still be relatively small, not very well-known. I want to understand its situation, but information is scarce in my area, so I need your help."

When it comes to Yum! Brands, Carter naturally thinks of KFC. However, the brand's recognition and influence are far less than that of KFC, especially at present. Carter has seen KFC stores, but he has never seen Pizza Hut. If KFC is unknown to Julian, then there's no need to mention Pizza Hut.

"Okay, Kentucky Fried Chicken, got it. I'll keep an eye out for it. Oh, by the way, did you hear about the change in the chairman of the Federal Reserve? That guy is tough. The future for your bank might not be so smooth. You should pay attention to risk control. If my prediction is correct, this Volcker guy will definitely tighten monetary policy."

"I heard about that news. Thanks for the heads-up."

It's a familiar double confirmation! Most of Volcker's life has been spent in New York, and financial practitioners like Julian in New York understand him better than Carter and Goodman. With their warning and future information as a reference, Carter couldn't help but reflect on whether his expectations for the economic situation in the next few years were too optimistic.

After hanging up the phone, Carter immediately started reconciling accounts. Soon, he discovered that in the two months since he left, Goodman, who was overseeing the bank, had consciously begun to reduce loans. In total, less than ten thousand dollars were loaned out in two months, and in August, only two thousand dollars were loaned out. Although the overall loan ratio had decreased objectively, the amount of money lent out during the old Blake period was still too much, and the bank's financial situation did not look good.

Cash reserves still couldn't meet the withdrawal needs of all depositors, especially now that he had invested the borrowed money in the fund. If a credit crisis like before were to happen again, it would be a big problem. Moreover, next month, there was a deposit insurance fee to pay. The deposit insurance fee was not a fixed amount but three thousandths of the deposit. According to the current deposit scale of Blake Bank, it would probably need around a thousand dollars, not too much. However, the problem was that Blake Bank's cash was not much, and it had to prepare money for user withdrawals and check cashing.

Looking at it this way, the next focus of the bank's work became clear. Recover loans! Even if it meant lowering interest rates, they had to recover as much loaned money as possible to prepare for any unforeseen circumstances.

"Goodman, I'm going to Exxon's place for a bit, to talk to him."

"Okay, go ahead."

Thinking about it, Carter decided to go and contact some loan recipients. Exxon's farm was located in the southern suburbs of the small town, although calling it the southern suburbs was just a euphemism.

To be precise, after leaving Douglas from the south, you had to continue driving for about half an hour to find Exxon's farm. In the area of the farm, apart from a road running north to south and Exxon's lonely house, there was almost nothing else.

Shortly after turning from the cement road onto a stretch of muddy road, Carter slowly stopped the car in front of Exxon's house. Someone inside the house also came out.

"Are you Mrs. Exxon? I'm Carter from Blake Bank."

"Carter... I know you. Heard you just got back from a trip around America. Please come in. Are you here to collect the debt?"

Mrs. Exxon looked about fifty years old, dressed plainly, and had a kindly face. However, there was an unmistakable hint of worry in her expression, evidently also concerned about repaying the debt.

"Yes, may I ask if Mr. Exxon is at home?"

Although Mrs. Exxon looked sympathetic, Carter didn't forget his purpose.

"He's not here, he's busy in the field. Please come in first, I'll go call him back."

This wasn't Exxon avoiding Carter; it was just that almost all farmers' families were like this. When Carter was a child returning home, he often couldn't see his grandfather during the day.

"Thank you, but I'll go directly to find him. I have a few other places to go later. Mrs. Exxon, please rest assured, I have no ill intentions. I just want to talk to him about the repayment. If there are difficulties, we will understand. As long as we can discuss a proper solution."

"Well, my husband's temper may be a bit impatient. I'd better go with you. I'm worried that you two might argue."

Mrs. Exxon said as she changed her indoor slippers at the entrance, then followed Carter as they walked up the field. The characteristic of American agriculture was highly mechanized; this was actually an unavoidable situation.

In the vast and sparsely populated United States, the per capita land of farmers was several times that of China. It was simply impossible to farm with human labor alone. However, it was currently summer, and the planting had been completed. The harvesting time hadn't arrived yet, so several agricultural machines were parked in the open space next to Exxon's house, idle and anxious.

No wonder the first thought of everyone was to sell a few agricultural machines to pay off debts, because the only things worth any money in Exxon's idle household were these large machines.

"Mrs. Exxon, how is your harvest going?"

Exxon's farm had many fields and a large area. Before finding Exxon, Carter took the initiative to start a conversation, but he didn't choose the right topic. If the harvest wasn't good, why would Exxon borrow money to buy more agricultural machinery?

"The harvest is pretty good. Georgia has plenty of sunshine and adequate water sources. But the peanuts we're growing have never been able to sell at a good price. Those damn capitalists, even though the price of peanut butter keeps going up, the purchase price hasn't increased at all. Now, we can only say we're not losing money on growing peanuts, but we're not making any money either."

"Who do you usually sell your peanuts to? Directly to the factory?"

According to the information left by Old Blake, peanuts were the main crop in Georgia. More than half of the peanuts produced in the United States were from Georgia, and the largest peanut butter factory in the world was in Dawson, Georgia. So it wasn't surprising that Exxon's family grew peanuts. Carter wasn't surprised, but he wondered if there was a problem in this intermediate link.

"We farmers can't possibly sell peanuts directly to the factory. We sell them to the purchasing agents in Douglas, and then they organize transportation to various factories or sell them to other states."

"So, could the reason you can't sell at a good price be that there's something fishy going on with these purchasing agents? For example, even though the factory has raised the purchase price, they haven't, to seek greater profits."