He created his first printed catalog using a word processor at community college.
Not every plate was listed.
Only identified inventory in saleable condition.
Manufacturer.
Part number.
Basic application.
Price.
“Verify compatibility before ordering.”
The catalog ran twenty-six pages.
Photocopied.
Stapled.
Black and white.
He mailed two hundred copies.
Within six weeks, eighty-seven orders arrived.
Most were small.
$8.
$15.
$24.
One $112 order for a matched set of scarce plates.
Nothing glamorous.
But consistent.
Ruth helped process checks at the kitchen table.
She became the unofficial accounts department.
“You have three people who haven’t paid postage.”
“It’s two dollars.”
“Then why did you charge postage?”
Malik sighed.
“I’ll call.”
She pointed at him.
“Business leaks money through holes people call too small.”
Another lesson.
By nineteen, Malik had moved the inventory out of Bell’s back room.
Not because Otis demanded it.
Because Carter Planter Parts had taken over too much space.
Thomas Bell’s nephew owned an unused feed-storage building behind the repair shop.
Malik rented half for $125 a month.
Metal shelving.
Card files.
Packing table.
Phone.
Desk.
One used computer.
The first time Otis visited, he stood in the doorway.
“Looks official.”
“It is official.”
“You paying taxes?”
“Yes.”
“Then unfortunately it’s real.”
Malik hired his first part-time employee.
His mother.
Denise worked two afternoons a week handling invoices and shipments.
He tried to pay her.
She refused.
Malik insisted.
She finally accepted on one condition.
“You do not call me your employee at Thanksgiving.”
“Deal.”
Business exposed Malik to increasingly difficult ethical choices.
One farmer from Tennessee needed a plate so rare Malik had only seen it listed twice.
Malik owned one.
He had paid less than a dollar for it as part of a lot.
Market information was nearly nonexistent.
The farmer said:
“I’ll pay whatever you want.”
Malik stared at the plate.
What was fair?
Twenty?
Fifty?
A hundred?
Two hundred?
The machine was worthless without it.
But the plate was not automatically worth the cost of a replacement planter.
Malik called three salvage dealers.
Asked what comparable obsolete items brought.
He priced it at $65.
The farmer happily paid.
A month later, another dealer told Malik he could have gotten $200.
Malik mentioned it to Otis.
Otis shrugged.
“You made money?”
“Yes.”
“Customer saved money?”
“Yes.”
“Customer likely calls again?”
“Yes.”
“Then what are we discussing?”
Malik smiled.
“Nothing.”
Not every lesson came from success.
In 1993, Malik purchased a large batch of planter plates from a salvage yard in western Ohio.
The owner claimed they had been stored indoors.
They had not.
Surface condition looked acceptable.
But several stacks had moisture trapped between plates.
Deep pitting formed around the metering cells.
Malik had paid $900.
Nearly half the lot was unsellable for reliable field use.
He was furious.
At the seller.
At himself.
Otis inspected one.
“You looked?”
“Yes.”