Now I was sure. The breakthrough was more than the penetration of a wall into another room. It would be a breakthrough for my heart and a new beginning in my life.
The first thing to do was to bring in a building contractor. He surveyed the situation and assured me that the job was simple—two men could do it in a week. It would cost about one thousand dollars.
Well what about it? Of course all of my profits were tied up in increased stock, but I was certainly not going to let money check my enthusiasm at this point. The time had come, I decided, to see about a bank. Every day while riding the bus I saw signs offering me money on my signature only. Do you want a new car? Need to pay old bills? Buy a car? Buy a refrigerator? Buy anything? See your friendly banker. What really decent fellows these bankers must be!
I had also been told at the separation center that as a former soldier I was entitled to certain kinds of help from a grateful government, which included financial backing in any promising business venture. I could not see anything standing seriously in the way of my borrowing a thousand dollars for my breakthrough.
Therefore, bright and early on a fine morning, I went to the bank. I had dressed myself with care. My tie was straight and my shirt clean. I wore my only suit. My shoes were shined. I had shaved carefully and brushed my hair with purpose. After all, I reasoned, a banker is a banker—you must respect him. I had never known a banker before in my life, and I scare easily.
When I sat down with the bank officer, I was glad I had taken care to make a good impression, for he looked me over while I stated my business. Apparently his mind was not on my attire, however.
“Do you carry life insurance?” he said.
“No, sir.”
“Do you have a car?”
“No, sir.”