Approaching noon, at a leeward street corner next to the construction site.
Shane parked the car firmly, the trunk door facing the construction site fence.
The folding table was set up, insulated boxes moved down. He specially placed the Mexican hot sauce bought from Temu and some other sauces in the most prominent position.
He just put the newly written sign on the ground:
Filling Combo - $4.99 (Choice of two main dishes + a large cup of hot coffee/hot cocoa)
(Single main dish $2.59/each)
As soon as the paper sign was hung up, the first batch of workers began to wander out from the construction site gate one after another.
Leading them was a dark-skinned Latino man in his forties, with grayish-white mud spots on his overalls.
He glanced at Shane's stall, looked Shane up and down—a mixed-race face but obviously not Hispanic—and then asked in English with a Spanish accent.
"Hey, kid. Burritos? You don't look like someone who can make this."
The two fellow workers following him also stopped, arms crossed, with an expression of "let's hear what you say."
Shane didn't stop his hands, continuing to arrange the paper boxes, and answered without looking up: "I don't guarantee it's authentic."
Boxes arranged, he looked up at this Latino worker.
"I can only guarantee two things: First, plenty of meat. Second, plenty of hot sauce."
The worker raised his eyebrows, thought about the fast-food restaurant that took more than ten minutes to walk to, and touched his nearly empty stomach.
Just then, a gust of cold wind blew over, making him shiver.
"Alright," he fished out a few bills from his pocket, "give me a burrito to try first, just one. Remember to put lots of hot sauce."
Shane took the money, took out a steaming Mexican burrito from the insulated box, scooped a large spoonful of hot sauce over it, put it in a paper bag, and handed it over.
The worker took it, peeled open a corner of the paper bag with suspicion, and took a big bite while it was hot.
He chewed twice, and his movements suddenly stopped.
Shane watched his reaction, feeling a little nervous in his heart.
Did he buy the wrong hot sauce? Or was the meat filling taste wrong?
These things were products he specifically chose with Mexican text in the homepage introduction and graphic description. He tried them himself and thought they were okay, but he couldn't be sure about the taste of these Latinos on the construction site, so he felt somewhat apprehensive now.
But the next second, the worker turned around and roared at the fellow workers who were still watching:
"¡Oye, Juan! ¡Miguel! ¡Vengan! ¡Esto está mucho mejor que esos sándwiches fríos de ayer!" (Hey, Juan! Miguel! Come over! This is way better than those cold sandwiches from yesterday!)
This shout made the two workers who were still hesitating walk over.
After shouting, he turned back and pointed to the other main dishes in the insulated box. "I want another burger. Just this burrito, add a burger, and a cup of coffee. Calculate it as that combo price, okay?"
"Sure." Shane nodded, took out a burger, poured a cup of still-hot coffee, and handed them over together.
At this time, more people poked their heads out from the construction site gate, and the two workers who were watching just now also walked to the stall.
"For real, Carlos (the first worker)?"
"Smells good!"
"I'll have that combo too! Burrito plus burger!"
The worker named Carlos couldn't bother to answer. He squatted on the curb next to him, hissing from the hot burrito while nodding vigorously at them and giving a thumbs up.
This scene was more effective than any advertisement.
A line quickly formed.
Unlike the rushed pace at the subway entrance in the morning, these workers chatted about the morning's work while lining up, or complained about the foreman, or laughed at whoever's face turned red from the spice.
"Any burgers? Give me a burger."
"Give me two combos; I want to bring one for someone else."
"Another cup of hot cocoa."
Eighty percent of people ordered the "Filling Combo."
For them, $4.99 for two solid-looking main dishes plus a large cup of hot drink, the choice was obvious.
Some people were originally holding lunch boxes brought from home, containing cold sandwiches or tortillas.
They leaned into Shane's stall, looked at the steaming and substantial food, then looked at the dry cold rice in their hands. Without much hesitation, they stuffed their original lunch back into their backpacks and paid for a hot meal.
In the crowd, Shane also recognized two familiar faces.
They were two of those who complained about having no food at the construction site when he was gathering information at the Alibi Room yesterday.
They squeezed to the front of the stall. Seeing Shane, they froze for a moment, but then grinned.
"Hey! Aren't you the kid at Kevin's yesterday?" A big man with stubble patted his companion. "I wondered why he asked so specifically! Turns out he was waiting for us here!"
"Good intel gathering, kid!" The other person also laughed, pulling out his wallet. "Give me two burritos, extra spicy. If it tastes bad, we'll go back and complain to Kevin."
"Don't worry, so spicy you'll curse me when you go to the toilet tomorrow." Shane replied while packing.
Several workers around who heard this burst into laughter.
The atmosphere heated up noisily like this.
The air was filled with the smell of cheap but potent hot sauce, the aroma of food, and the mixed smell of sweat and dust on the workers.
This was a rough but solid sense of life unique to the construction site.
There was no exquisiteness and haste of the subway entrance here, only the most direct desire for calories and grease after hard labor.
Shane collected money, handed over food, occasionally replying with a curse word or two.
Unknowingly, the time was already ten past one in the afternoon.
Few people came out from the construction site anymore. Mechanical noises began to sound one after another. The lunch break at the construction site was over.
Shane looked at the insulated box; there were about a dozen combos left.
He waited no longer and started packing up.
Moving things back to the car and closing the doors, he sat in the driver's seat and took out that metal box.
Familiar process, noon turnover $340.
The cost of these things at noon was slightly more expensive than breakfast, after all, there were more different sauces, but the profit was also an amazing $272.
That is to say, his net profit today was $817. Converted to RMB, he earned over 5700 yuan in just one morning plus noon!
This profit, tax-free, made Shane feel like doing this full-time... but he quickly dispelled this thought.
It was just the beginning. Those punks hadn't targeted him yet. At the construction site, other vendors were still watching. Even if the police and enforcement teams saw him, they couldn't be bothered with a yellow-skinned kid who looked like a student.
When he really set up a stall every day and it became more obvious, it was hard to guarantee that other vendors wouldn't come to grab turf, gangs wouldn't come to "collect protection fees," or one day he wouldn't be caught by health inspections, police, or enforcement teams.
Finally, and most importantly: it was too fcking tiring, and the ceiling was visible to the naked eye.
Even if everything went smoothly, working alone from dawn to noon, draining himself, earning thirty thousand dollars a month was the max.
This money was a huge sum in the South Side, but far from the complete change he wanted.
His body was strong, but not made of iron, and his System wasn't for adding stats.
This business consumed his most precious time, physical strength, and freedom.
But in the short term, treating it as a "money printing machine" for a while to earn a big wave of money first was still very fragrant.
The car ignited again, and Shane drove towards the Alibi Room.
The abacus in Shane's brain crackled loudly.
It was too wasteful to eat these leftovers himself, and they wouldn't be fresh to sell tomorrow. Even for family dinner, they couldn't eat this every day.
He himself didn't dare to eat too much of these semi-finished products.
So, the best place for them was Kevin's bar.
This wasn't just to clear inventory. If it went well, he could directly add a dumping point more stable than setting up a stall.