The Loan That Felt Like a Lifeline
I always thought getting a business loan would be the hardest part. Turns out, the real difficulty comes after the money hits your account.
In April 2024, I opened my dream—a small Cambodian-inspired café in Phnom Penh. Khmer Brew. Specialty coffee, fresh spring rolls, homemade khmer pastries, affordable prices for students and office workers. The bank approved everything: $180,000 business loan, 7-year term, monthly payment of $2,950, low interest because I had a clean credit history, steady job history, and a solid business plan.
I signed the papers with shaking hands. The manager shook mine and said, “Congratulations, you’re officially a business owner.”
I felt unstoppable.
Year One — Hope, Hustle, and Hidden Warnings
The café opened in October 2024.
First three months were magic.
Students lined up for iced coffee, office workers came for quick lunches, reviews called it “the best hidden gem in Daun Penh.”
I worked 16-hour days, hired three part-time staff, paid myself almost nothing to keep cash flowing.
Loan payment: always on time.
I even started saving a little extra each month.
Then 2025 arrived.
Inflation hit Cambodia hard.
Coffee beans +42%, milk +35%, electricity +28%.
Rent increased 20% because the landlord “needed to cover his own loans.”
Customers started cutting back—smaller orders, fewer pastries, some switched to cheaper street coffee.
Revenue dropped 35% by April.
I still paid the loan.
Every month.
On time.
But the cushion disappeared.
I asked the bank for relief—lower payments for six months, or deferment.
They said no.
“Business risk is yours. The loan agreement is clear.”
I didn’t read every line carefully enough.
Buried in the 38-page contract:
“If your business revenue falls below 70% of the projected figure for two consecutive quarters, the bank may declare default and accelerate the full balance.”
I missed that clause.
My projected revenue was $18,000/month.
Reality: $11,000–$12,000.
Two quarters.
Default.
The Call That Changed Everything
July 15, 2025.
Phone call from the bank.
“Ms. Srey, your loan is in default. Full balance is now due immediately.”
$180,000.
Plus late fees, penalties, legal costs.
They gave me 30 days to pay or face collateral seizure.
Collateral: my personal guarantee + second mortgage on my small condo (the one I bought in 2021 with savings from years of overtime).
I had $8,000 in savings.
No way.
I begged: “Give me time. Business is seasonal.”
They said: “You agreed to the terms.”
I sold my car.
Borrowed from friends.
Worked extra freelance projects.
Paid $22,000 toward the balance.
Not enough.
August 2025: bank filed for collateral seizure.
My condo—my safe place, the one I painted myself, the one I planned to raise a family in—went into foreclosure.
Auction scheduled for October.
I fought—lawyer, hardship application, begged for modification.
Bank refused: “Contract is clear. You missed the revenue covenant.”
The Family That Watched From the Sidelines
I told my family in September.
Mom cried: “We never wanted this for you.”
Dad: “You should have read the contract more carefully.”
They never offered to help pay.
Chris: “You took the risk. You knew the terms.”
Mia: “Maybe you should have started smaller.”
No one helped.
No one co-signed with me.
No one said, “We’ll figure this out together.”
They just… moved on.
My parents refinanced their own house (they still had equity) to help Chris buy a new car.
Mia got a new apartment.
I got the debt.
I’m paying $1,800/month minimums now.
Still owe $158,000.
Credit score 460.
Can’t buy a car, rent nice places, sometimes get rejected for jobs that check credit.
The café? Closed permanently in November 2024.
I lost $180,000 of my own savings, plus the business.
And I lost the illusion that hard work and honesty are always enough.
I took a small business loan.
The bank approved everything.
Until I missed one detail.
Now collectors call me daily.
And I’m still paying.
Every month.
Every call.
Every night I can’t sleep.
If you’re thinking of taking a business loan—read every line.
Ask questions.
Get a lawyer.
Because one missed clause can cost you everything.
I learned that the hard way.
Thanks for reading.
