Dad: Kent, we are in a massive crisis. The bank is freezing the construction company’s accounts. We need you to wire $350,000 immediately to cover payroll or we lose everything. Please, son.
Me: $350,000? That’s a lot of money for a “charity case.”
Dad: What? Why are you bringing that up now? This is a family emergency!
Me: Because less than four hours ago, at the family barbecue, Tyler stood up and announced, “Charity cases eat last.”
Me: And instead of correcting him, you, Mom, and my siblings laughed. You all watched me pack my plate and walk out.
Dad: Oh, come on! He’s 12! It was just a joke about us helping you out after your divorce. We’ve been paying your restaurant bills for two years, Kent. We’ve been incredibly generous to you while you live in that tiny, cramped apartment.
Me: You didn’t pay my bills because you cared, Dad. You did it so you could hold it over my head and feel superior. You wanted a broken son to look down on.
Dad: Look, I’m sorry if your feelings were hurt, okay? But we don’t have time for your pride right now! The business is going under. We told our main suppliers that our “investor son” would back the company. If you don’t step up, we face liquidation by morning.
Me: It’s funny how I’m a pathetic burden when Tyler’s watching, but an “investor son” when the debt collectors start calling.
Dad: Are you going to help your own blood or not?!
Me: No. I don’t think I will invest a single dime.
Dad: Fine! Keep wallowing in your poverty and bitterness! Just know that when we lose the family business, it’s on your hands! You’re nothing but a selfish, struggling loser.
Me: I’m not struggling, Dad. I chose that modest apartment after my divorce because I wanted to see who people truly were when I had “nothing.”
Me: You see, my personal net worth is actually $45 million.
Dad: …What? Is this some kind of sick joke? You drive a 10-year-old sedan!
Me: It’s a very reliable car. And no, it’s not a joke. But here is the real news: I didn’t invest in your company, but I did spend the last two hours on the phone with my legal team at Morrison Capital Partners.
Dad: Morrison Capital? That’s the firm holding our primary corporate debt. Why are they involved?
Me: Because as of 11:30 PM tonight, Morrison Capital acquired 100% of your company’s outstanding distressed debt from your suppliers. For pennies on the dollar, I might add.
Me: And since I happen to own Morrison Capital… I am no longer your “struggling brother” or your “charity case.”
Me: I am your primary creditor.
Dad: Kent… please. You wouldn’t destroy your own family. We can talk about this!
Me: My legal team will be sending over the restructuring demands at 8:00 AM sharp. If you can’t meet the terms, we will begin foreclosure and force the company into involuntary bankruptcy.
Me: Sleep well, Dad. And remember for tomorrow’s meeting… the charity case is now the boss.
