The Ball

2.2 LIFE - THREE

I look up and notice that the front door opens: Giorgio, Umberto, Andrea and Tiziano are coming in together. They are Sbandofin longer standing employees, already at the agency when I started working here in 2007, at the age of thirty-two. I was starting off my third job, preceded by others which lasted for a rather short period. Here I put down some roots, considering that the job is not too depressing and the work environment is quite pleasant.

The four colleagues are now busy walking to their workstations as they do every day. They are all around fifty-five years old: they have good manners and they always go around in groups, rarely seem to be willing to talk to younger colleagues. They always behave in a somewhat detached and defensive manner, as if they want to protect their group and preserve their greater seniority, which is an unquestionable factor, in my opinion.

They meet every morning sharp at the bar in front of the office for breakfast. The same scene is repeated at their lunch break: always together, always united.

«Hello everyone» I say.

«Good morning Lavinia» they reply one after the other, but with the same pitch and with the same neutral tone.

Tiziano and Andrea sit in the row in front of mine in the large open space; on the other hand, Giorgio and Umberto sit in row in front of the new girls.

It is 8:59 am and the office is almost 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 send the e-mail.

I click on the yellow icon and move on to the next folder: this is the guy with shaved hair and a bleached mohawk who, at the beginning of yesterday’s brief meeting, also demanded a coffee, convinced that he was able to express the ideas better with a stimulant of some kind in his blood.

Actually his situation was not too complicated to explain: twenty-two, never worked and looking for five thousand euros to go to Thailand for a month with an elusive girl who, at first, seemed to me to live with him in Italy and, a few minutes later, she turned out to be waiting for him for several months in the country of destination. When I suggested him to look for a guarantor who could give him access to some credit, he replied almost whimpering that friends and relatives had completely declined any of his requests. Considering his appearance and his way of speaking, the news of the repeated denials did not surprise me, confirming only my initial decision, taken even before the word coffee: I press the e-mail icon and enter the address in the recipient field that I had saved in the clipboard.

We are sorry, but we have not been able to find any suitable solution to your funding request. Looking forward to meeting you on other future occasions, I wish you a good day.

Lavinia - Sbandofin.

Third folder: the man in his fifties looking for an anonymous lease for the purchase of a car.

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

I hear the front door make a faint noise and I look to the far right: I see Maddalena entering, opening a gap of about fifty centimetres, quite enough to let her frail body slide between the jamb and the large shiny steel plate. She closes the door behind her and nods to Serena. She walks along the corridor, disappearing behind the plants, and showing again, after about twenty seconds, under the opening of the glass wall, reaching the desk on my right.

«Hi Maddalena, are you all right?» I ask almost whispering.

«Hi Lavinia, not too bad: I have a terrible headache, I couldn’t even get out of bed this morning.»

«Headaches are horrible» I reply quietly. «But did you take anything for it, like some ibuprofen or paracetamol?»

«No, medicines are poison. I didn’t take anything, God forbid: a few hours and it will go» she replies sourly.

«Yes, time heals everything» I reply smiling.

«There’s nothing to laugh about, anyway.»

«Sorry, Maddalena, I was just saying.»

I reopen Chrome, I start looking for some strange leasing company. I nonchalantly catch a glimpse of Maddalena out of the corner of my eye arranging her bag in the third drawer of the shelf. Before closing the drawer, she takes out his smartphone and places it scrupulously on a stand placed on her desk, just below the monitor: it is a plastic gizmo which I have always disregarded the usefulness, thinking that my phone is quite happy to sit on the flat surface of my desk. She then takes out the usual three small bottles and lines them up to the right of the useless stand, checking that the labels are facing the working position. She closes the drawer and sits down on the chair.

I asked her one day what benefits those three little bottles had and Maddalena told me about some plant extracts that have a positive influence on emotional imbalances, worries and health in general: one for sleep disorders, one for social anxiety and the other to overcome grief, if I am not wrong. After the explanation, I lost some interest in the exact use of the products and now I am amused at this daily ritual, repeated in the same way every morning when she arrives at her office. However, I noticed the colour of the bottles are continuously changed, which led me to think that even the distress these magical extracts are used for, can change quite frequently.

I scroll through the search results with little enthusiasm while, always out of the corner of my eye, I see her busy carrying out the second preparatory action leading up to the beginning of the working day: the extension and compression of the piston of the chair, until reaching the optimal distance between the seat and the floor. I straighten my back a little, I think I have never changed the height of my chair: a long time ago I had placed it in a position that suited to my height, and that was it.

«Lavinia, can’t you see that you too get a back pain sitting on these armchairs? You want to straighten up now: your bones have taken on a wrong posture and it will be difficult to get them straight back» Maddalena suddenly stammers.

I turn to her and look at her beige turtleneck sweater, paired with oversized hazel pants and a pair of hard to define brown shoes.

«Actually, Maddalena, I have no back pain: I have just straightened up a little because I was hunching my back under the weight of the useless research I am doing» I reply to her, looking at her with a smile.

«So, you were just teasing me because I can’t get the chair in the right position?»

«No, I was looking for someone for a lease, I wasn’t really watching you» I reply calmly. «Do you need a hand to get yourself sorted?»

«I don’t need help, I just want no one to keep moving the position of my chair.»

I watch her slender legs, which can be seen under the deformed trousers, not at all comparable to Serena’s, dangling from a height about forty centimetres higher than mine. «Now you seem a little too high to me: don’t you think you should lower it a little?»

«Yes, that’s a bit too much, but I can’t move if I pull the lever.» I get up and walk to Maddalena.

«By moving this upward, won’t you lower it down?» I ask, pointing to the lever on the right of the seat.

«No, look» replies Maddalena, shaking the metal bar.

«Strange. Sorry: try to pull it while I push you down.»

Maddalena pulls the lever, I grab her two armrests and push her towards the ground.

«Enough, that’s fine.»

«So, you’re okay?»

«Yes» she replies. «Aren’t you cold in that sweater there, Lavinia?» she then adds looking at me up and down.

«No, it’s always hot in here» I retort, as I sit back at my seat.

«Maybe, I’m still cold in this sweater. Besides, all that flesh well in sight, are you sure it’s okay?»

«Okay for what?» I ask turning to her.

«I don’t know, I wouldn’t go around like that all naked.»

«I have only my wrists and ten centimetres of forearms uncovered and the sweater is just slightly open around my neck: I don’t feel like I’m that naked.»

The next time, do it by yourself, I won’t help you anymore, poor psycho-depressed bitch, I think as I start scrolling the page again to look for a suitable company to grant a lease out of the usual paths. In fact, the disturbing individual told me in secret that all his cars, including his wife’s, are underwritten with the financial companies of the car manufacturers and he wants to avoid documents of new cars his spouse is not aware of, lying around the house. What he said sounded a bit confused at first, then it turned out to be quite clear: he wants to sign a finance lease for a car that will not be used by him, his wife, or by a person who his wife would like to meet. I scroll down the page again and arrive around the eightieth result. I go back to the initial search field and add, next to the term leasing, the words intermediary registration.

The first result now shows the name of a company that sounds completely unknown to me: I click and find myself on the registration form in the reserved area of a company whose name is incomprehensible and difficult to pronounce. I scroll down, I click and I am on a registration form of the restricted area of a company with an incomprehensible and unpronounceable registered name.

I scroll down, I click on FAQ, I run through the first trivial questions with the relative predictable answers and at the bottom of the page, I find out that in order to register as an intermediary or mediator, it’s enough to fill in the electronic form seen on the previous page, attaching the Chamber of Commerce registration and the identity document of the owner of the individual company that is about to register or that of the legal representative. With this type of access, the following FAQ grants the possibility of requesting contracts for one’s own customers and their complete management through the appropriate online website, getting rid of all the paperwork, according to the last timely response to the precise final question.

I smile staring at the screen, save the address in my favourites and I think I will submit the matter to Teresa as soon as I get the opportunity to see her.

2.2 LIFE - FOUR

It’s 10:35 am: I’m going, otherwise I will never get back.

I have to collect all the checks for the story of the unlucky building. It was Amedeo who brought them here, those people from that hateful company: since he began to hang out with them, his career as an agent has plummeted.

The idea he had about four years ago of starting off his own business was really appreciable. He had freed himself from the real estate agency for which he had worked for some time. At the beginning he had sold a few offices quite easily on behalf of some considerable companies and then he had begun to deal with several residential properties: some sales had allowed him to evaluate with some satisfaction the path taken and to look positively at the future of his sole proprietorship.

Then, I think I remember between 2014 and 2015, Ciapper arrived, with that cursed tower: twenty floors of offices to be rented, according to the phrase that I was told so many times, at prices suitable for the prestigious property. According to Amedeo, the building was well done as for the way it looked and for the purpose it had been built, but the required standards bordered on madness and, as he said some time ago sarcastically, before isolating himself in a depressive silence, no one could understand the choice of the name, Banano, which caused potential customers some sort of bewilderment, lexical as well as geographical: it reminded of a tree not really widespread in the Brescia area.

After getting the exclusivity for the office lease mediation, Amedeo not only did not make any deal, but he did not even get interested people to visit the offices: only a strange voluntary association, some time ago, wanted to visit the building to rent part of a floor, without then follow-up their visit. As the months went by, which then turned into years, he managed, with great difficulty, to convince Ciapper people to give up the exclusive and unsuccessful leasing idea and to put the offices up for sale too.

However, the change in the contract did not change the interest of the market in the building. So, what is the moral of the story? For Amedeo, the whole affair has turned into a real fixation. On numerous occasions, I tried to get him out of his deteriorating state of mind, but I always got the same answer: «We have to place all of that fucking Banano».

The unfortunate building over time has been taken over by the companies of the group: from construction to real estate companies, also passing through other corporate misadventures which I can’t even recollect in my mind. During the meeting organized by Amedeo which took place here in the office, the senior manager explained in brief for me the last, desperate, operation to be carried out: to give Banano back to the company that had built it.

The chairperson’s sad recount also made me aware of how even the construction company is not having a good financial situation, considering that the banks, according to what he was saying, have lending money.

In short, the dramatic account of Mr. Gustavo Ciapper, chairperson and shareholder in each company in the group together with the other brothers who are members of the Board of Directors, ended with the request to find willing financial institutions, in any way possible, to raise the amount necessary to give the building back to the construction company: ten million euros to get from somewhere.

I asked my colleagues for some advice, including Umberto and Giorgio, who turned out to be incredibly helpful, and I managed to put together six banks willing to finance the operation. They are not real loans: no bank has accepted Banano as a guarantee and not even taken into consideration that the construction company could act as a valid unsecured creditor, so any type of mortgage has been ruled out. We therefore had to resort to six lines of credit: pure madness.

Each institution requested a restricted current account with a deposit equal to the amount of the granted credit limit, thus forcing the brothers to open joint accounts with the six banks, for a total of ten million: I am not aware about what percentage of these amounts is taken from their personal assets; however, what the chairperson said made me think that the restricted amounts can be almost all of the savings set aside during a good part of their working life.

My success in finding the necessary funds for the operation, which I describe as self-destructive attitude, turned Amedeo’s face into a smirk which reminded of a smile. He then turned the instinctual expression on his face into a short sentence: «It wasn’t that difficult after all».

Try and raise ten million at the blink of an eye then, instead of staying in bed until ten in the morning... that is what I am thinking while I am staring at the desk. I also remember that the sale agreement of the property will take place in the afternoon and that someone from Ciapper, following yesterday’s agreements, will pop over around 15:30 to collect the checks.

So now I have to go and collect the cashier’s checks from the various banks and then I will leave everything with Serena before leaving the office. I put the pc on standby and take a nice folder with a hard cover from the drawer to collect all the bank securities. I leave the bag in the drawer, thinking that it can only weigh me down, since I don’t need either the office keys or the car keys. I quickly take out my identity card from my bag, struck by the idea that some meticulous bank employee might want to check my identification, and then I close the chest of drawers.

I get up, a little doubtful. Although I have just remembered that two banks are a little more far away than the others, I discard the idea of taking the car and look for an alternative solution.

«Lavinia, why are you standing still in front of your desk?» Maddalena asks.

«I was rearranging the route in my mind in order to collect some checks: I’ll get going now» I reply quietly, thinking that today she wants to piss me off. I bend down, I open the drawer again, then take out the prepaid card for public transport from my bag, and I then push the handle back to close it.

«Okay: I was just wondering why you are in front of the ray of sunshine that is filtering through the window and the rays of the sun this season and at this time are good for my poor health.»

«Sure, Maddalena, sorry, I’ll move right away» I reply, taking two steps back and slipping the card into my jeans pocket. «Sorry again, I am off, see you later.»

I reach the front office and smile at Serena, busy with what appears to be a complicated telephone conversation. She looks at me a bit puzzled, while I point to the wardrobe with one hand and then shake my arms, pretending to put on an invisible jacket.

She smiles and then nods.

Borrowing Serena’s fur coat, which can be recognized by its slightly eccentric synthetic fur, allows me to avoid a stop at the garage and save a few minutes.

When I get to the lift, I look at myself in the mirror: it is black and reaches down to mid-thighs; the synthetic fur is about ten centimetres long and is all ruffled. I feel the lining that touches the bare skin of my forearms: I get a sensation of synthetic heat all over me, while my nostrils are filled with a pleasant scent of cyclamen, which I recognize to be the same one that I often get off my colleague.

This fur coat is really nice.

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

«Hello, I’m Lavinia from Sbandofin, I need to collect some cashier’s checks for Ciapper ltd.»

«So, you are Lavinia» replies the employee. «Hi, I’m Maria. I’ll go get them and I’ll be right back» she adds, getting up. After two minutes the girl comes back holding an envelope in her hands.

«Here they are. Can you sign here, please?» she says, sitting back down. I sign, grab the envelope, open the folder, put the envelope inside and close it.

«I’m off, then» I say looking at her. «Thanks, Maria, have a nice day.»

«Bye, good day to you too.»

I turn around, pass the mantrap, walk on the pedestrian crossing and continue following the road that goes down to the supermarket. I immediately notice my second stop in the distance, a bank I go to quite often for other transactions for Sbandofin which also has its own current account at this branch.

«Good morning, running errands?» I suddenly hear a voice echoing on my right.

The concierge of our building stands in front of me, going down the stairs of the building I am walking past, with a stack of boxes in his arms.

«Good morning Mauro. Yes, I’m going around a few banks.»

«I’m recovering the packages that the courier left in the wrong building» he mutters.

«How nice» I reply. «Does it often happen that they mix up the buildings?»

«Every now and then, yes: in their haste they leave everything to one concierge instead of the other» he replies and then continues: «That fur coat is beautiful, it looks like Serena’s».

Surprised by the statement, I look at him a little puzzled and answer: «Yes, I like it a lot too: we bought the same one, actually».

He seems to be inspecting me and I add quickly: «What perceptiveness, Mauro!»

«That’s what my job is about: to watch. Have fun in the bank» he replies, walking away.

«Goodbye» I reply, still hesitant. I start walking in the opposite direction and I think that, more than a keen observer, he seems to like minding other people’s business.

I go to the bank, take another envelope from the familiar employee of the first counter and put it back in the folder. I leave the girl, after an interesting conversation about today’s weather conditions that has taken away at least three minutes off my tight schedule, to get to the last branch of the first block of banks.

The rude cashier hands me a transparent envelope with two checks put in at random. He then informs me that he must proceed with my identification: I hand over the document and he scans it, while I put these checks in my folder. I take my ID from the fat hand stretched out towards me, I greet without any particular pleasantries and, as I go out, I realize how the subway stop is located in the square nearby. I decide to use that, to reach the two furthest banks. For sure, it’s faster than the 10 bus.

While I am waiting for the train, the folder in my hands begins to bother me. I open a button on my fur coat and place it inside, supporting it with my right hip and putting my hands in the pockets, which I think can benefit from a bit of comfortable synthetic warmth. When I reach the bottom of the lining, my index finger touches a cylindrical object. I inspect it with curiosity: it is a simple lip balm stick. I also rummage in my left pocket to make sure I’m not carrying items that I can lose. After realizing that there is nothing like that, I decide to put the stick in the safest inside pocket, which already has my smartphone, and in which I also place my rechargeable card and ID.

I hear a whistling sound coming from my left and I turn to look at it: the subway is on its way and it is slowing down, getting ready to stop. I take the folder out of my fur and I go in the half-empty carriage. I sit on the outer seat, placing the folder on my legs, while the electric vehicle takes off again and I think that in three or four minutes I should arrive at my destination.

I look around and, after making sure that the two people sitting on the far side are looking harmlessly at their smartphones, I open the folder: the two checks in the transparent envelope show, next to the letter to, the details of the recipient: Ciapper Real Estate ltd. in liquidation. Beside the word euro, printed in small letters, I read the inscription six hundred twenty-five thousand/00.