The Ball. Erik Pethersen
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full, ready for the working day: only Maddalena is missing, the girl who sits next to my desk. She may have been delayed by some strange adversity. And also Teresa, the manager: she arrives around ten or a little later.
I can see the phone LED lighting up and I hear Serena’s phone ringing in the distance. The first phone call of the day which will quite possibly made by some desperate individual looking for money. According to the statistics, the early hours of the workdays are filled by this kind of individuals, as if these characters had spent the whole night mulling over how to get a loan. Usually, as the day progresses, more serious individuals with complex needs begin to show up: debt rearranging, large loans or more specific requests of financial brokering.
I have to look for some funding for the three individuals I met yesterday morning: they came here one after the other, after Tom-the-plump-one had left the office. As if they had secretly agreed, the first made an absurd request; as soon as I managed to get rid of him, the other one came in with an even more unlikely question and, when I was beginning to think that the morning could come to an end without any further hassle, the last one arrived to give me the last blow.
For the first potential customer, I therefore have to look for a mortgage to buy his first house along with his wife. It is an easy thing to do because he is unemployed and with a spouse working part-time and getting paid under the counter. The man is desperate because so many banks have declined his request so he turned to us in the hope to find some sort of solution. By discarding every bank and setting aside the blue puppet, not so keen on this kind of loans, FinExtreme is the last resort.
I press the button for my contact list on the phone, I look for the one of these criminals and press the button to call the selected number.
«FinExtreme, good morning, how can I help you?»
«Hi, I’m Lavinia from Sbandofin in Brescia, can I speak to Ettore? I am calling for a request for a loan from one of our clients.»
«Hold on, please, I check if he is available.»
«Great, thank you.»
I am on hold and I keep my eyes on the monitor. As I have done on many occasions in the past, I try to picture what the office of these sharks may look like, and I am not too sure whether it would be a modern building in the south of Milan or an ancient building in the medieval centre. I switch the telephone receiver to my left ear and type in FinExtreme on Google, while a boring jingle is interspersed by a female voice that continues to thank me for my patience and is piercing my eardrum. I click on the icon at the far end of the window and, after a few moments, the map appears with a placeholder around Lambrate. I try to view the outside with Street View: no futuristic buildings or ancient buildings, only old, dilapidated condos that looked more like public housing, rather than the headquarters of prestigious financial intermediaries.
I scroll forward, and then to the right. The three embossed digits on a brass plate tilted about twenty degrees from the ground, match those ones that I read on their address. I hold down the left button and I position the Google camera towards the top floor, as the tune almost starts to harm my cochlear nerve. Maybe a small apartment used as an office, with Ettore in the kitchen deceiving customers with disproportionate rates, the girl who answers the phone with her desk at the entrance and two thugs working as bill collectors waiting for orders in the bathroom, one in the tub and the other sitting on the toilet.
I am still waiting, thinking back about Ettore’s voice which has always appeared nice and polite to me. It would clash with the picture that I have just made in my mind, perhaps only astounded by the annoying music.
«Ready. Hi Lavinia Sbandofin, how are you? We haven’t been in touch for a long time.»
«Good morning Ettore FinExtreme, everything is fine here, thank you. The reason why I am calling you is that some time ago I asked you for help regarding a mortgage for a person who was unable to show clear guarantees concerning his/her income.»
«Questionable guarantees: yes, I think I understand. More exactly, what is it about?»
«It is a request for a first-time buyer mortgage for a couple: he is unemployed, she has a part-time job, she works flexible hours in a family, working as a housekeeper. Do you still grant this kind of mortgages?»
«In short, she works as a housekeeper for a family of friends?»
«Yes, that’s it, something like that: she’s busy, but you know what friends are like, you do me a favour, I do you a favour, nothing too formal.»
«I see. But what capital are we talking about? And are these friends generous enough?»
«The house costs around 110,000 euros: it is a two-room apartment here in the province of Brescia. Sure, friends are quite generous: in short, I understand that they have a nineteenth-century mentality.»
«A mentality...» Ettore repeats with a slightly perplexed tone. «Ah, you are saying that they are old-fashioned. Old-fashioned as far as the number, of course. But I think I’m not with you: do they have an eight hundred mentality or a one thousand and eight hundred mentality?»
«No. Nineteenth century, not one thousand and eight hundred. Otherwise, I would have said 1800s, don’t you think? The 1800’s mentality would seem to me too generous for a part-time housekeeper.»
«Yes, actually, Lavinia you are right» replies Ettore, giggling. «However, if these are the centuries in question and that is the value of the property, I believe a solution can be found. However, I’ll tell you right away, the rate will certainly not be low.»
«You mean something around 5% all inclusive, Ettore?»
«No, Lavinia, we are no longer able to keep so low: I would say that we are even around 6.5% all inclusive.»
«6.5%? But it’s a lot!»
«We can’t do better now. However, the threshold rate is around 7.5% now and we are well below.»
«Does one percent mean well below your parameters, Ettore?»
«Yes, Lavinia: for my parameters, one percent is a lot: that’s 1,000 euros per 100,000 euros of capital per year.»
«Here, exactly. Anyway, assuming it might be okay, what documents should the couple need get off their friends?»
«They can always sign an agreement in which friends declare to remain friends for at least another twenty or thirty years: a private agreement like this may also be enough. Otherwise, there is always the possibility that they will give them a direct guarantee. This would bring the rate down significantly.»
«Sure, but from experience I know that friends in the end, when it comes to money, they don’t turn out to be such good friends.»
«Yes, Lavinia, you know what they say here in Milan: friends, bloody friends...» says Ettore, interrupting himself and grinning.
«Even here, ninety kilometres away, they say the same» I reply, laughing.
«Then I will send you the details of the property and of the individuals» I continue, «if you draw up a draft, I’ll submit everything to the two people.»
«All right, e-mail me everything. And if the deal goes through, you too can pop over the notary when the deed will be signed, so we can finally meet: it’s been a long time since I’d love to meet your voice in person.»
«Of course: to meet my voice in person, nice expression, I like it! If they get the loan, I’ll see you at the notary, sure: in fact, we have been talking on the phone for about ten years and we’ve never seen each other.»
«You promised, Lavinia Sbandofin: deed at the notary, I’m counting on it.»
«All right Ettore FinExtreme, now I’ll forward everything to you. Bye, have a good day.»
«You too. Bye.»
I hang up the phone, I click on the mail software and, once the cadastral registration is attached, I add a few words referring to the phone call just made. Finally, I choose Ettore’s address from the contact list and