Chapter 757 - 730: Aurora II
Seattle.
"Be careful, you idiots! Hey, can’t you handle that gently? This is aerospace parts!"
Omar moved through the vast logistics warehouse, where the huge noise from the exhaust fans meant that everyone had to wear noise-canceling headphones, and he had to use his loudest voice to direct his workers.
But in reality, no one could hear him clearly. However, as long as they saw their boss’s exaggerated gestures and roaring expressions, they would naturally be more cautious.
Parkermatch Mechanical Manufacturing Company, located in Seattle, is a medium-sized factory whose main business is providing various metal parts used in aircraft, as well as undertaking machine maintenance work.
The factory employed over 2000 people, but most of the production work was completed in South America or Southeast Asia. Only a small part of the parts were made here, along with assembly and maintenance.
The aerospace business brought the Parkermatch Factory substantial profits, yet Omar still frequently supervised on-site; he knew his titular boss was a minor character.
Because Parkermatch Factory’s main clientele were several airbases in the east, ordinary people could not get their hands on air force orders.
Parkermatch Factory’s annual turnover exceeded more than a billion US Dollars, which could provide a handsome income to several senators and officers behind the scenes. Of course, the most important role was to smooth over bad debts.
There would always be baffling black holes in the airbases’ accounts, and the best way to erase these was to channel them into routine maintenance costs. After all, it was understandable that the young lads were too rough and the rookie pilots’ wear and tear was high.
And the quality of Parkermatch’s components was excellent, specially provided for various types of aircraft; it was only reasonable that the price would be a little higher.
Omar reached the "defective goods" area, picked up an ordinary spring washer from an open wooden crate, and examined its surface treatment and shape closely.
The factory’s quality inspection method wasn’t to look at each piece, but to randomly check a certain number; if the defect rate reached a certain level, that batch of parts would be deemed unusable "defective goods" and sent for destruction or sold off.
Omar sharply noticed that several washers in his hand were too roughly finished, the anti-oxidation and rust-proofing processes were clearly not up to par, and he immediately became angry. He called over the corresponding supervisor and berated:
"Look at this trash. I could even break it with my hands. This supplier should be blacklisted immediately. When did Annan’s parts become so poor in quality!"
Omar stared dead at the supervisor’s expression. "Annan," in this context, actually referred to China. After the trade barriers between the two countries began, the number of "Annan" suppliers for Parkermatch Factory had significantly increased, and the quality had always been stable; it was impossible for such inferior products to emerge.
"Sorry Mr. Omar, these aren’t produced by Annan. Their recent shipments have been delayed, and this batch was made by an Indian supplier."
India, does that mean Senator Slayter? Or Colonel Peliss?
Omar pondered a few agents’ names, impatiently pushed the supervisor aside, and thought about how to give them a dressing down— their greed should not be so flagrant.
Because there was a bit more ledger balancing required this year, the airbase had lifted their unit price for these washers to 25 US Dollars each, paying 25 dollars for a tiny washer only 1 millimeter thick and less than 10 millimeters in diameter!
Omar bet that the cost of producing this item in "Annan" was less than 25 cents, but that’s military sales, that’s the military-industrial complex, the congressmen and the fellows in the Pentagon couldn’t lose this channel.
Even after deducting the ’fire consumption’ from various connections, Parkermatch Factory could still make a 5-dollar profit on such a washer, and with another 0.5-dollar subsidy from John’s "Industrial Act," it was quite a significant income.
If the "Industrial Act" subsidy could continue for a year, then...
"Manager, two people are looking for you outside!"
The secretary’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Anyone who could reach his ears obviously needed to be seen. Omar irritably adjusted his sleeves and then met the two visitors outside the factory:
Two young Caucasians, one of whom he recognized as a relative of a major shareholder of Parkermatch Factory, and also a white glove.
The other was dressed in formal attire, but the color was too subdued, looking like an insurance salesman.
"Omar, this is a friend of mine. We need to understand a few things."
Warner introduced the "insurance agent," and only then did Omar learn that his name was Ziad, and he nodded as a form of greeting.
"What do you need to understand? Except for the accounts, everything else I can show you."
Ziad, "I’d like to know about the good product rate, purchase price, and quantity of goods you sell from China."
Omar scrutinized his nose, itching to give this guy a punch when no one was watching.
"Uh... hey, hold on, calm down."
Warner quickly intervened, emphasizing:
"Ziad is a think tank expert, he’s authorized."
"Authorized by whom, an authorization that kills us? We only produce genuine American goods, we just import raw materials from Southeast Asia or South America."
Warner: "Calm down, calm down! Ziad is one of us. Listen to me explain, let’s go to your office to talk!"
...
"Manager Omar, you must have heard about America lifting many industry restrictions on China."
"Oh, I know, it was proposed by an idiot. If that’s the case, your uncle won’t be getting tens of millions of dollars in dividends, it’s just the delusion of a madman."
End of Chapter
