The man kisses it and raises it to the sky. “Thank you, sir!”

“Good luck to you,” Mansoor says, feeling a deep sense of pride and dignity as he steps through the bank’s doors. He is now the host, here in this great new country of his.

The banker, Jon Brady, is younger than Mansoor expected. He looks about Ashif’s age and that pleases him. He doesn’t want some stodgy old banker who might have a hard time understanding new technologies and his groundbreaking business plan. Mansoor places a copy of his business plan, like a menu, in front of Jon. The banker sits back and scribbles notes on the business plan as Mansoor speaks with great enthusiasm about break-even point, sales volume, the Internet, and e-commerce. When he’s done, Jon praises him.

“You’ve got a terrific plan here. Very innovative.”

Mansoor laughs. See! He knew this would be easy. His plan is rock-solid.

“My main concern though is that your debt service ratio is a little high,” Jon says.

That makes no sense to Mansoor. “But I have no debt. None! I paid off the gas station debt years ago. I’ve even paid off my house. I have a clean slate.”

“Yes, I can see that from your records.” He lightly taps his pen against his knee.

“I never missed a payment. I was never late. Not even once.” Mansoor feels as if the banker is trying to convict him of something even though he is innocent.

“Yes, I understand, Mansoor. But the debt service coverage ratio is connected to income, as you know. Your current income can support the payments, but from our perspective there’s just not enough breathing room if your income goes down.”

“My income won’t go down! It will only go up now that I’m expanding.” He fumbles with his business plan and opens it up to a graph. “See that!” He traces the income line from 1987 to 1997, his finger like a gondola climbing a ski hill.

“Unfortunately, we don’t lend based on projections. We need something more solid. It would help your case if you could secure your contract with the city first.”

“I can’t secure the contract without the plant, Jon.”

“Right. It’s a bit of a chicken-and-egg story, then. Sorry, that happens sometimes.”

Mansoor digs his fingers into his knees. “But I’ve done business here for twenty-five years. The bank knows me. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“It counts for a lot. We truly appreciate your business. I just don’t have any wiggle room here. These are the bank’s rules.”

Mansoor glimpses the framed certificate on Jon’s wall. Mount Royal College, Business. Is that all the education this boy has? No wonder. His bosses will be so angry if they find out how they treated him, let such a solid opportunity slip out of their hands. “My son went to business school at the University of Toronto. One of Canada’s top, but I’m sure you know that.”

“It’s a tough school to get into,” Jon says. “You must be proud.”