The First Lesson of Economics /./ [Simbal]
@alzcomicbarn
“The first lesson of economics is scarcity: there is never enough of anything to fully satisfy all those who want it. The first lesson of politics is to disregard the first lesson of economics.” - Thomas Sowell.
Simba had a problem.
That problem was the rent of the shoppes on Main Street. See, Main Street was aptly named, because before Swynlake had grown and grown and grown, it was the only street in town. Everything else had been farmland and estates. Once the university went in during the late 1800s, the town expanded towards the university. It wasn’t until the middle 1900s that the Woods was commissioned and built, a few shops springing up along the road on the way there and out towards the lake.
Argo, InterPride aka Simba’s family, owned all the buildings on Main Street, with the exception of the ones that had been donated to the town--Town Hall, the hospital, sheriff and fire departments.
Now that InterPride was transitioning into a nonprofit, the rent of those buildings were going to be a huge cashcrop for InterPride’s income. Which meant--it was possible in the future that someone could try to take advantage of that fact and jack up the rent. Which was what Simba was going to try and avoid.
Which meant that he needed a small business owner to be his personal adviser to this whole deal he’d be writing into the board of trustees contract. He had considered Belle at first, but was worried that that would be seen as showing favoritism towards another board member, involving their significant other. Mickey crossed his mind too, but he didn’t technically own a business, let alone one that InterPride had control over.
In an interest of extending an olive branch, Simba had requested a meeting with Al. It was, after all, part of his platform. And, while Simba disliked Al for that rhetoric--his slander had not been near as bad as Hatter’s last year, and, even moreso, people liked him. Which was obvious by the fact he’d been voted onto the Board. So, here Simba was, standing up as Celia let Al into the office, smiling at him and stepping around his desk to shake his hand.
“Hullo, Al, can I get you something to drink? Whiskey? Water? I’ve got cranberry juice too.”
