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ASIAN AMERICAN BUSINESS
What the author learned growing up in South Central took him to a highrise on the Golden Mile.
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Business Lessons from an Immigrant Boyhood
(Part 1 of a 3-Part Series)
PAGE 1 OF 6
ometimes late at night I stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of my 20th-floor condo and lose myself in the field of lights. On a clear night my eyes cross effortlessly the eight miles or so that took me over twenty years to travel. It's hard to put words to the feelings that cascade through me in those moments, but I guess "satisfaction" sums it up pretty well.
My family immigrated when I was twelve. I was luckier than other immigrant kids. My father wasn't consumed with guilt at putting his kids through the hardships that go with starting a new life in a new country. He didn't throw money at me. Instead, he told me to find a job and let me blow my earnings any way I saw fit, whether it be pumping quarters into arcade games, haunting moviehouses or spending ridiculous amounts on my car, clothes and shoes.
My first and only job was delivering liquor and groceries on my bike when I was thirteen. My first day on the job several black kids surrounded me and took a bag of liquor and groceries worth $21.47. To this day I remember that exact amount because it seemed like a fortune and it was deducted from my week's wages. I routed my deliveries to minimize such encounters, but there were too many marauders and I couldn't evade them all. I worked over twenty hours that first week and my net earnings came to just over sixteen dollars, most of it from customer tips.
I considered quitting. But I somehow worked up the nerve to test out an idea. I sought out the boys who had been stealing from me and, in my limited English, made them an offer. If they delivered the groceries, they could keep the tips. The second week, I got to keep my whole pay: two crisp twenty-dollar bills. I felt rich. More importantly, I felt smart. I had learned my first and most valuable lesson in business: the need to turn adversity into opportunity.
I had caught business fever and my brain started working overtime. I approached other liquor stores in the area and worked out delivery agreements. Before long I was managing a half dozen delivery boys working rotating shifts. That arrangement earned me several times more than I could possibly have made on my own.
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I wasn't satisfied with liquor deliveries. I diversified into mowing lawns, washing cars, cleaning shop windows, delivering newspapers and, briefly, selling flowers, oranges and even false eyelashes -- all by employing neighborhood kids. I had to give up the flowers, oranges and eyelashes because my client storeowners complained I was competing against them. By the time I was sixteen my operation covered a whole square mile of the Crenshaw district. I was the intermediary between Corean merchants and kids eager to earn a few bucks after school. At my peak I was clearing almost four hundred bucks a week, all cash. I was easily the richest kid in my school. I wasn't shy about showing off my wealth. I bought a Honda and pimped it out. I wore gold jewelry and the hippest clothes I could find. That phase of my entrepreneurial career ended when my parents moved out to the suburbs, but the experience ensured that I would never work for anyone else.
For a while I enjoyed my family's new suburban lifestyle. I liked the big yard and quiet streets that weren't covered with grafitti. My new high school was a big change from my old inner-city school. My new schoolmates were equal parts Hispanic, White and Asian and I had no problem fitting in. But soon I became bored with hanging out at the pool halls, drive-ins and music stores. I missed the satisfaction and excitement of working hard to make money and the freedom of having my own cash. My family's new suburban lifestyle didn't translate into cash in my pocket. My allowance was chump change compared with what I was used to making and spending.
I began looking around for a business opportunity. I checked out the big local swap meet. A swap meet is actually a big open-air market filled with merchants operating out of vans. Each pays a fee for the right to set up a tent and some folding tables on which to spread out their wares. They sold mostly cheap clothes, trinkets, novelties and other junk. I thought I could do better.
I had kept in touch with kids from my old neighborhood who were in touch with the latest street trends. One of my close friends had been a slick little talker named Delong. One Friday afternoon I picked up DeLong and we drove over to the Garment District. I had traded my Honda for a big white Ford van. I spent most of my savings, about two thousand dollars, stocking up the van. The next day Delong and I set up our tables at the swap meet. That weekend we sold out almost our entire inventory. At the end of the day we counted the money. We could hardly believe the total. We had doubled our investment in one day! PAGE 2
| "I sought out the boys who had been stealing from me and, in my limited English, made them an offer." |