EPT1997 hasn't happened yet, the mainland and the WTO haven't finished their little dance yet, so you're the only fucking game in town. Of course, the Nikkei's still hurting, but really, all that did was keep all the poor Japanese banks benched on the sidelines. And just in case the trust fund kiddies ever wised up and wondered all their money was going, they had even come up with a nice, sanitized name for you--"Asia ex-Japan". "Opportunity, ex-the-one-time-we-got-it-wrong," land of fucking hopes and dreams, the Wild Wild East.
But back to you. You're seasoned, you're a pro. You know dumb money when you see it, no matter what language it speaks. You'll take their money. Easy. Hands down, no problem. But there's one catch. With normal equity, they can buy control. Take over enough of your public shares, and you might end up having to kiss asses every single month in board meetings. That's intolerable. Not only is it annoying, but they'll have their hands on your company. Your baby. Your magnum opus, your raison d'etre. No fucking way.
You're just about to tell off the investment bankers at the other end of the table when one of them, a little cleverer than the rest, says the magic words. Class B. Create Class B shares with ten times the voting power of Class A shares, restrict the buying list to you and your children, and voila, you can get the best of both worlds. All that gweilo captial, going straight into your pocket, but you still get to have 85% of the voting power in your firm.
So you go ahead and sign on the dotted line. It's the first time you've signed your name in English. You phone your loyal secretary Anson, ask him if he can come up for a moment, and when he comes out, he becomes the first owner of a cool million Class B shares. You finish disbursing all the shares, leaving yourself a 51% stake... and then you die. Now it's an open question. Who wins? Your loyal devoted son, the faithless, feckless one, your ditzy daughter, or your third wife?
