Chapter 26: The First Step

"Who is that?"

In another corner, seven or eight teenagers stood surrounding a young man in his early twenties wearing a baseball cap.

It was vaguely visible that this young man in the baseball cap was the core of their small circle.

One of the younger ones said, "I heard his name is Lans, an illegal immigrant from Balman State."

"He was saying something about earning two hundred dollars once he completed a job; that's what he and that annoying Luo Bu were arguing about just now."

Balman State is not a developed region in the Empire, with agriculture as its economic pillar. Although it has developed cities, it is still slightly backward compared to prosperous areas like the Imperial Capital.

Most of the Imperial citizens here who have permanent residency and citizenship come from the developed areas of the Imperial Capital, and only these people can successfully obtain permanent residency cards and citizenship.

So when mentioning Lans's hometown, the youngest guy didn't seem very interested.

"No matter where he comes from, as long as he doesn't get along with Luo Bu, we can be friends."

"As for the two-hundred-dollar job, we can go and listen to what he has to say."

"And get to know him while we're at it."

Luo Bu is not very popular here; he inherited Mr. Bodun's philistinism and snobbery, but at the same time, he didn't disguise these qualities very well.

Toward those poor people he looked down upon, he would make sarcastic remarks or mock them whenever he had the chance, giving people the impression that he was clearly superior to them.

And toward the children of those wealthy families with a certain social status, he would act like a lapdog, wagging his tail and saying pleasant things.

The more he did this, the less everyone liked him, whether they were the ones he looked down upon or the ones he wanted to curry favor with.

Of course, although everyone didn't like him, it didn't reach the point of hatred; they just didn't like him, which is also the reason why he could still appear here.

As soon as this group approached Lans, they heard him speaking, "I have a job in my hands right now that needs someone to do, and I'm not very willing to give this opportunity to others, so the first thing I thought of was our own people."

The young man in the baseball cap interjected, "May I ask what exactly it is?"

"Also, how much compensation can you pay us for this job?"

Lans turned to look at him; he was a fair-skinned person, looking to be about one meter seventy-three to one meter seventy-five, which is considered quite tall in this era.

He looked thin, wearing a white shirt, dark trousers, and a pair of suspenders; his leather shoes were a bit old but polished until they shone, and he wore a gray baseball cap.

Many times, Lans couldn't figure out what kind of habit it was to wear a hat in such hot weather, and it wasn't just him; adults and people on the road, many of them wore hats—weren't they hot?

Meeting Lans's gaze, the baseball cap took the initiative to extend his hand, "Enio, from Dokannis."

Lans shook his hand and said with a smile, "Lans, from Balman State."

The two quickly let go of each other's hands, and Enio asked, "I heard just now that you have a good job you can introduce to us?"

"That's right."

"May I ask what it's like, and how much is the compensation?"

The young people around actually all wanted to know this; otherwise, they wouldn't have gathered around.

Although most people here had obtained permanent residency cards and citizenship, this didn't mean they were definitely wealthy or middle class.

Those living in cramped apartments in the slums like Mr. Bodun were the mainstream among these immigrants.

Being able to become a banker like Mr. Chobafu was the minority of the minority; out of more than thirty thousand immigrants, there might only be two or three.

Most people were still eager to earn more money.

"I don't know if you know the nature of my work; in short, it's the kind of work where I solve problems for others, and then they pay me compensation."

"I can assure you that it is absolutely not illegal, but there might be a little bit of trouble."

"This job only takes one day, from ten o'clock in the morning to about eight o'clock in the evening; it doesn't require physical labor, just sitting in one place, and you cannot leave halfway."

"I can give you..."

He could clearly feel that the people around him were holding their breath; he held out one hand and spread his fingers, "Five dollars!"

Someone let out a suppressed exclamation; earning five dollars in one day—wouldn't that mean earning one hundred and fifty dollars a month?

Even Enio's breathing became a bit rapid; he also needed money, and there were few people here who didn't need money.

"How many days can this job be done, and how is the money settled?"

Looking at more young people gathering around, Lans explained patiently, "This is just a temporary job, only for one day, but there might be other jobs for you in the future."

"It can be settled for you immediately after the work is finished; there will absolutely be no dragging it out."

"Like I said, this money can be given to anyone, so why wouldn't I give it to my fellow brothers?", he glanced at the ladies beside him and added with a smile, "And sisters."

The girls giggled, feeling that Lans was a very interesting person; few people would speak like this, and be so cheerful and outgoing.

Enio continued to ask, "Then what is the content of the work?"

"Enjoying food..."

At first, Lans did consider finding some homeless people, but soon he thought again that homeless people couldn't get into the restaurant at all; the manager at the door would stop them from entering.

If the homeless couldn't get in, then hiring these homeless people would be meaningless.

If he provided them with clothing that would allow them to enter the restaurant, not only would the cost increase, but it wouldn't achieve the goal of disgusting Mr. Anderson; it would be better to just find some ordinary people.

At the same time, handing this job to others to do was not as good as handing it to these second-generation immigrants.

They had legal status, and what he asked them to do was not illegal; at most, they would be criticized, and it wouldn't hurt their bones.

At the same time, he could establish an image of himself as a "capable" person among the immigrant community, which was killing many birds with one stone.

Soon, there were enough young people who hoped to participate in this activity; earning money was one aspect, but more importantly, they were interested in Lans's plans.

The next morning, Mr. Anderson looked at the ingredients that were already prepared and was very satisfied.

The meaning of recruiting apprentices lies here—

Pay the least money, complete the most work.

He was not like the fat boss Qiaoni, who not only didn't pay apprentices but also made apprentices pay him.

Mr. Anderson would pay each apprentice fifteen dollars, but they almost lived entirely in the restaurant, with no days off.

Every day from six o'clock in the morning to ten o'clock in the evening, almost all their time was spent working, unless there were no guests in the restaurant.

Although the conditions were very harsh, there were still people fighting to get in as apprentices because Mr. Anderson himself was a practitioner who went from an apprentice to a restaurant owner.

These apprentices and the families behind them all believed that they would definitely be able to learn real skills here, and then become a businessman and middle class like Mr. Anderson.

After checking all the ingredients, the time was almost ten o'clock; the time for guests to arrive on weekends was slightly later, about twelve o'clock, but they would keep coming until about two or three o'clock in the afternoon.

Then there was no need to rest much; at five o'clock, they could start preparing for the evening peak; every weekend was the most profitable time for the restaurant, just like yesterday.

Today, he planned to strive to earn more, preparing for the expansion of his business.

Just as it hit ten o'clock, he heard the manager greeting guests in the front; although Mr. Anderson felt it was a bit early, if guests came to dine, who the hell cared if it was early or not?

As long as they paid, he would make what they wanted for these people.

Soon, the waiter came with the menu to place an order, and the cooks were all ready to have a big go; as a result, when they saw the menu, the items on it added up to only one dollar and ninety-nine cents.

A ninety-nine-cent bread basket, a one-dollar mixed salad.

The former bread was packed in a hand-woven basket; after all, in a bakery, fifteen-cent bread could make you full, and even if there was a premium in a restaurant, it wouldn't be too outrageous.

Ninety-nine cents gave a pound of bread, which was enough for two to three people to be full.

The mixed salad was one of the best-selling dishes in the restaurant; its core was some crisp vegetables paired with some deboned meat that was just cooked and still had a bit of chewiness, mixed together.

It was a sweet and sour, refreshing appetizer, but people who ordered this alone... didn't seem to be many.

Anderson inquired, and the guest was just one person; it was indeed enough for one person to eat these.

He had seen this kind of person who wanted to come to the restaurant to feel the atmosphere of a high-end restaurant but was short of money; he didn't say much about this, just told people to maintain the quality of the dishes.

One shouldn't neglect the guest just because the other party spent very little and was alone.

Mr. Anderson got up very early in the morning; after the busy peak period, he was now free and a bit sleepy.

He greeted the manager and went to the lounge to take a nap.

In a daze, he didn't know how long he had slept; suddenly, the sound of knocking on the door woke him up from his half-asleep state; he jumped up, was dazed for a while, and then went to open the door.

"Are there too many guests to handle?", he reached out to take the apron hanging on the wall and put it over his neck, "I'll go help right away."

The manager was anxious to death, "Something happened in the front!"