America: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 10 Work Income

"Tell me where you live, and I'll call you if I need anything for work," Zhang Ailun said.

"Thanks, boss. We have nowhere to live. We spend most of our time wandering the streets around here." The homeless man took the dollar, exchanged a glance with the other man, and thought, "It's not much, but at least I didn't work for nothing, right?"

The other party seemed to be quite capable in a fight, but they didn't bully them too much; they were still respectful, at least they gave them money and payment for their labor after taking their jars...

Are you touched?

I dare not move.

Zhang Ailun waved for them to leave and told them that he would find them if needed, and that they should not go too far.

The homeless man verbally agreed. In reality, he was thinking of moving somewhere else after he returned this time.

Are you kidding me? Staying here to become their free labor and lose your freedom?

Give me liberty or give me death.

Several homeless men hurriedly left.

Zhang Ailun didn't care about this, since they were just free laborers anyway.

Under the astonished gaze of the Carnation Club cleaners, he returned home laden with large and small bags of jars.

While passing by a square, Zhang Ailun took out his phone and used the free Wi-Fi of a convenience store to search Google Maps and found a nearby scrap metal recycling station.

I jogged all the way to my destination, carried my bags and packages inside, and prepared to sell the jars.

This scrap metal collection station is located at a triangular intersection. It's about the size of a basketball court. A red Citroën is parked in the yard. The station is full of bottles and cans of trash, weighing scales, tires, and cardboard, but most of it has been sorted out.

The electronic screen displays today's recycling prices.

Clear beverage bottle, $1.32 per pound.

Aluminum cans, $1.6 per pound.

Cardboard, $0.01 per pound.

Glass bottles, $0.10 per pound.

It seemed to be slightly cheaper than the one Dominic mentioned, located at a scrap yard, but it was still fair, and Zhang Ailun didn't want to go too far.

During this time, I also saw several scavengers pushing carts filled with large and small bags, arriving one after another from all directions. They were probably homeless people from other streets.

There were even some people dressed in smart clothes, wearing Adidas Originals hoodies, MLB baseball caps, Puma sneakers, and Apple Bluetooth earphones. One of them even drove a black Ranger pickup truck, playing music.

After getting off the bus, they took out their large and small bags.

I initially thought they were there to sell household waste, but after some subtle questioning, I discovered they were also involved in can recycling. Moreover, it seemed they owned several blocks and were operating as a gang, specifically targeting wealthy neighborhoods to collect recyclables.

The drop rate for treasure chests in the wealthy area is extremely high.

They can each earn at least three thousand dollars a week.

On the West Coast, even garbage collection is divided into territorial zones.

To grow bigger and stronger, you need to seize territory and own more treasure chests.

You really can't do this without some connections and strength. If you don't understand the situation, you'll easily offend people and cause conflicts.

To avoid such risks, one can only hunt in ordinary neighborhoods, picking up leftovers from roadside treasure chests.

However, in ordinary neighborhoods, competition is too fierce, and the number of scavengers is too large, so daily income will decline sharply, and at most, they can only barely make ends meet.

Selling cardboard in America could easily lead to bankruptcy because it was worthless. In the past, some Chinese people would pulp the cardboard and ship it back to China, making a fortune! But this profession disappeared as soon as the bill banning the import of foreign waste was introduced.

Zhang Ailun patiently waited in line outside to be weighed, and soon it was his turn.

He handed the bags to the staff, who opened them and found that the bottles and jars inside were a mess, not sorted or organized, which didn't seem like the behavior of a proper scavenger.

"Next time, you'd better sort things out first, sir."

The staff member gave a reminder, then took out a large frame for the electronic scale, picked and tidied it up for a while, and poured the contents in batches for weighing.

A 16-pound can costs $25.6.

A 9-pound clear beverage bottle costs $11.88.

21 pounds of glass bottle, $2.1.

Total: $358.

Simply by reaping the benefits, clearing out half a street, he earned tens of dollars in a short time.

Picking up trash on the West Coast can actually make money!

Earning a million a year by starting a business through garbage collection is not impossible!

The recycling station staff gave him a receipt and told Zhang Ailun to exchange it for cash at the window next door.

"Hey buddy, where did you come from? How did you manage to collect so many jars?"

Zhang Ailun exchanged his money for cash at the exchange window, put it in his pocket, and prepared to leave.

The other scavengers gathered around, somewhat surprised. "We've never seen you before?"

"I just arrived here yesterday, it's normal that you haven't seen me before."

Zhang Ailun answered frankly, "These jars were picked up from the Carnation Club."

"That strip club on Wapson Street? Isn't that Ethan and his gang's territory?"

The scavengers were surprised.

They also remembered those white alcoholics who liked to form gangs, drink heavily, and smoke weeds.

He was originally a poor slum dweller who became obsessed with gambling on football and lost everything. Later, he became addicted to opioids and felt unwell if he didn't take a little every day. In the end, he couldn't afford to rent a house, went bankrupt, and was kicked out of the house.

"I remember they took the territory from that kid Dominic, didn't they?" someone said.

"Who is Dominic?" another person asked in surprise.

"A white 'girl' who's pretty good on the streets, and a lot of guys are eyeing her ass. But I heard that little Lori gets to play with her ass every day, how enviable! Hahaha, I'm just kidding!"

A scavenger made a joke that, while not a big one, caused everyone to burst into laughter.

"Dominic is my friend, and I don't want to hear anyone say bad things about him!"

As Zhang Ailun listened to their increasingly vulgar conversation, he realized that these guys were potential competitors, and he glared at them with hostility.

"That Ethan you guys were talking about, I've already beaten him up. From now on, that street is Lori Louis 19's territory. I don't want to see any homeless people from other places scavenging for bottles there! Otherwise, I'll definitely crack his head open! Got it?"

Verbal threats weren't enough; he rolled up his sleeves, revealing his explosively muscular forearms.

His fists were clenched so tightly they cracked.

"Of course, buddy." The scavengers' eyelids twitched uncontrollably after just one glance.

Are you sure you're really a homeless person and not some bodybuilder or street boxing champion?

Which version of a homeless person could have such a great physique?

In today's streets filled with the elderly, weak, sick, and disabled, having such muscles is like a game-changer, a berserker with no blind spots.

Definitely a Tier 0!

He immediately dismissed the unrealistic idea.

After watching Zhang Ailun leave, the group remained silent for a long time.

"Louis XIX has taken over that spot, does that mean we can't go there to clean windows and beg anymore? Damn it, that street is a very lucrative place!" someone suddenly exclaimed, clutching their head in frustration.

He had already made arrangements with Ethan and his gang to protect him from being robbed or caused trouble by others, but now his plan was about to fall through.

"He only told us not to collect cans, but he didn't say we couldn't clean windows or beg on the street."

A nearby scavenger reassured him, "He can only occupy the trash cans on that street at most. Does he really think he can take over the whole street?"

"That street is MC's territory, and the club owner is a core member of the Hells Angels. He can easily summon a whole bunch of bikers! How can homeless people like us afford to mess with gangsters? We're on parallel lines; there's no way we'll ever cross paths!"

"You're right!" The homeless man breathed a sigh of relief.

(End of this chapter)