Chapter 97: Auction of State-Owned Assets (Revised)...

Vladimir.

"Damn it, those coalition members, are they still hoping for a win in the next presidential election?"

"We were practically suicide squads!"

"We are liberating the economy of this country! For freedom!"

Several overly young, suited-up officials gathered together, angrily berating the old fogies who were hindering their reform efforts—the so-called "red factory directors," conservative bureaucrats, and remnants of the Bolshevik regime.

From the crowd, a man with a grim face said, "We can't wait any longer, we have no time! We must push forward the privatization of assets to the maximum extent possible, so that the country's assets truly become the people's assets, at all costs!"

Another man frowned and said, “Taras, we can’t do it. Nobody can take their factories without the factory owners’ permission. Like now, they’re just pushing out the factories that are about to go bankrupt, while keeping the really profitable ones firmly in their grasp.”

Taras slammed his fist on the table and roared, "Then shoot them all, or put them all in jail! We have executive orders signed by the president and ministers!"

No one responded, and everyone looked at each other in bewilderment, falling into an awkward silence in the office.

Fortunately, there was a knock on the door, and the person outside poked their head in to remind them, "Gentlemen, the auction is about to begin."

Taras exhaled heavily through his nose, straightened the hem of his suit jacket, and led the way out of the simple temporary office.

"Hmph, let's go and see what Vladimir City has prepared for us."

The small hall, where the portrait of Lenin used to hang, is now covered by a banner that reads: "Auction for the Privatization of State-Owned Enterprises in Vladimir City".

The desk served as an auction stage, where an amateur auctioneer stood alone, constantly fidgeting with his tie, looking quite uncomfortable.

Since there was no gavel for auctions, the auctioneer was holding a small iron hammer.

Several rows of folding chairs were densely packed together below the stage, with narrow spacing between them. Guests had to squeeze themselves into the chairs and carefully hunch their shoulders to avoid taking the seats next to them.

As the driving force behind this auction, Taras's seat wasn't much better. His suit was crumpled and bunched up, and his hair, which had been styled in a mess, revealed his shiny bald head.

But he no longer cared about those things.

The auctioneer stammered, "Next up is the tavern at 79 Labania Street, 30 percent of the shares, starting at 150 vouchers!"

The entire room was completely silent.

The auctioneer called out again, and after a long while, someone hesitantly raised their hand.

"Uh, I'll offer 100 shares, each share... half a warrant?"

The auctioneer breathed a sigh of relief and hurriedly brought down the gavel.

"The tavern at 79 Labania Street, one hundred shares, half-price warrants per share, traded!"

The person who won the bid for the tavern said doubtfully to the person next to him, "Did I bid too high?"

The person next to him comforted him, "You still have time to escape, right now, before the deal is actually done."

Meanwhile, Taras was in a terrible mood.

From fast food restaurants to pubs to barbershops and tailors, these trivial little shops accounted for almost 90% of the items in the entire auction. Not counting those that failed to sell, they only sold for a total of 60 million rubles.

It's worth noting that the government implemented currency reforms a few months ago. Although the new ruble replaced the old one, it failed to stop the ruble's sharp decline. Currently, the exchange rate between the US dollar and the ruble is 1:1300.

Today, each warrant is worth only ten dollars, thanks to the significant positive news of the privatization auction of state-owned enterprises.

In other words, so far in the auction, less than $50,000 worth of state-owned assets have been sold!

Compared to the vast amount of state-owned assets left behind by the alliance, the amount sold is not even a drop in the bucket.

If this pace continues, the nation will not be able to escape the shadow of the alliance even into the 21st century.

Taras was panting heavily, his bald head covered in sweat, whether from the heat or the breath, it was hard to tell.

On the other side, in a more comfortable seat, several middle-aged and elderly men exchanged glances and smiled knowingly at his appearance.

—The Mosk boys' gang's idea of ​​robbing state assets from their pockets is a pipe dream.

This is the factory of the alliance's factory director, managers, and local bureaucrats—or, for the sake of a better name, the workers' factory—and it's not for those democratic opportunists to interfere.

The lackluster auction was drawing to a close, and finally the final item was brought out.

The more experienced auctioneer shouted, "Last one, a 51% stake in the city's dairy factory, starting price—"

He suddenly paused, picked up the cue card, held it up to his eyes in disbelief, and then stretched out his hand, muttering to himself as he counted the zeros in the starting bid.

"The starting bid is one thousand, wait, it's ten thousand... That dilapidated factory is actually worth fifteen thousand vouchers?!"

The auctioneer blurted out his true feelings without thinking, and the crowd did not blame the unprofessional auctioneer, because they were also shocked at the time.

Fifteen thousand vouchers are equivalent to $150,000, which is nearly 200 million rubles.

That old factory, built thirty years ago, actually dares to sell for 200 million rubles?

Even if you sold the entire factory's equipment and workers together, it wouldn't be worth 200 million rubles!

The crowd erupted in uproar, whispering amongst themselves, and for a moment no one raised their hand to bid.

Taras, puzzled, asked his advisor, "Semyon, what's going on? Why is nobody interested in buying?"

He had read the information beforehand. Although the factory was established a long time ago, as the only dairy factory in Vladimir, its products were sold not only in the city but also to neighboring cities. At its peak, it had more than 800 employees and an annual output of 5,000 tons, making it the leading food processing plant in the area.

Although the factory suffered from the common drawbacks of state-owned enterprises in the 1980s, such as bloated organization, redundant personnel, outdated products, and inefficiency, it was still a medium-sized factory. The starting bid was only $150,000, which was practically a free gift.

Xie Miao clearly knew more.

“Talas, you know, this is the Alliance factory.”

Xie Miao tried to be tactful, saying, "No one wants to take on a group of elderly workers in their forties and fifties, paying their wages while also covering their medical expenses and the costs of the Black Sea Sanatorium."

Taras said angrily, "This isn't an alliance anymore! There's no lifetime employment! The new shareholders can fire them all, and if the factory manager and general manager try to stop them, they can be fired too!"

Xie Miao was extremely embarrassed and didn't know what to say. A local in the back row leaned over and said enthusiastically, "There's no factory director or manager. They run faster than rabbits with butter on their feet!"

Taras, ignoring his surprise, pressed on, "Then why didn't you make an offer?"

A kind-hearted person said, "Who would want to buy a factory that's about to go bankrupt? The milk they produce is rotten! In Vladimir, we'd rather go hungry than buy anything from that factory. I bet you're from out of town, otherwise even my ten-year-old son wouldn't ask such a childish question."

Taras: ...

He was so angry he almost roared, but being on someone else's turf, he could only suppress his anger and yell at Semyon: "I'm going to report this to the president and ministers! They did it on purpose!"

Vladimir City clearly has plenty of high-quality assets, including internal combustion engine factories, motorcycle manufacturing plants, and precision machining plants—each one of which is a highly desirable asset!

But the auctions are either worthless little shops like pubs and barbershops, or old factories on the verge of bankruptcy. Even a fool wouldn't spend $150,000 to buy a factory that's destined to go bankrupt!

They are going against the Rus' government!

These are the remnants of the alliance, still harboring their wicked intentions!

The auctioneer on the stage was growing impatient. He tapped his gavel on the table and shouted to the crowd below:

"A dairy factory worth 200 million rubles, any bids? If not, it'll go unsold."

Before he finished speaking, a hand suddenly rose from the audience.

“All shares, one and a tenth of each warrant.”

The noisy crowd fell silent instantly, and people turned to look for the brave man who had made the bid.

In the last row, a woman wearing sunglasses sat casually, her short black hair contrasting with her fair skin and bright red lips, like a striking traditional Chinese painting.

Behind her stood two burly Slavic men, hands on their waists, scanning their surroundings menacingly.

The auctioneer paused for a moment, then asked uncertainly, "Madam, were you the one who placed the bid?"

The woman retorted, "Is there someone else here who wants to buy this factory?"

The auctioneer gave an awkward smile, but persisted, asking again, "Madam, are you really bidding? I mean, are you really going to spend 15,000 vouchers to buy the dairy factory?"

Taras, sitting in the audience, cursed inwardly: Stupid auctioneer!

Why doesn't he just slam that damn hammer on the table right now and finalize this woman's offer?!

Once the hammer falls, there's no going back. Does anyone else here want to buy a terrible Alliance factory?!

He actually went and reminded that woman!

If the dairy factory fails to sell at auction today, Taras swears he'll send someone to give that auctioneer a good beating!

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, the woman in sunglasses spoke lightly.

"No."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. They knew it; who would want to buy a factory that was about to go bankrupt? It wasn't worth $150,000.

Taras could almost hear his own wails.

but--

“Not 15,000 vouchers,” she said. “16,500 vouchers.”

The entire room fell silent.

Taras stood up in disbelief, staring at the woman who had made the bid.

She was wearing oversized sunglasses that almost covered half of her face, making it impossible to see her expression.

However, the slight upturn of her lips still revealed that the woman in sunglasses was in a good mood.

"Sixteen thousand five hundred vouchers, that's my offer."

She stood up slowly, and the seated people subconsciously looked up at her.

"Is there anyone else willing to offer a higher price?"

The woman in sunglasses looked around and asked in perfect Mosk accent.

No one spoke.

She nodded in satisfaction and said to the auctioneer, "Since no one else has bid, shouldn't you bring down the hammer?"

The auctioneer snapped out of his daze and hurriedly raised his gavel, but just as he was about to bring it down, he hesitated and, unable to bear it, asked again:

"Are you really going to buy it?"

Taras almost screamed.

Let her buy it, let her buy it!

The woman in sunglasses didn't say anything. She walked through the crowd, straight to the front, and took the hammer from the dumbfounded auctioneer.

"when!"

The hammer struck the table with a light but firm sound, and she announced loudly:

"16,500 vouchers from the Vladimir City Dairy Factory were sold at auction."