The Day I Thought I Was Building a Future
In March 2023 I walked into a small branch of a local bank with nothing but a business plan, a dream, and a heart full of hope. I was 29, had worked in restaurants since I was 18, and finally decided it was time to open my own café—something cozy, affordable, with good coffee and homemade pastries. The bank manager smiled, shook my hand, and said the words that felt like a promise: “We love helping small businesses get started.”
I left with a $120,000 business loan, a five-year term, and monthly payments of $2,450. I thought I had it all figured out.
I was wrong.
That loan didn’t just cost me money. It cost me my business, my credit, my home, my relationship, and almost my sanity. This is my confession: I took a small business loan, and I’m still paying for it every single day.
How It All Started — The Dream Felt So Close
I grew up watching my parents run a tiny grocery store in a Cambodian neighborhood in Phnom Penh before we immigrated to the U.S. when I was 12. They worked 14-hour days, never complained, and always said, “Hard work and honesty will take you anywhere.”
After years of saving tips and working double shifts at a downtown coffee shop, I finally had enough for a down payment on a small retail space in a growing neighborhood. The location was perfect: near offices, a university, and a new apartment complex.
I needed $180,000 total—$60,000 for equipment and renovations, $40,000 for inventory, $40,000 for initial wages and marketing, and $40,000 cushion.
I had $60,000 saved. The bank offered to lend the rest.
They asked for my personal guarantee and a second mortgage on the condo I’d bought three years earlier.
I signed.
I thought: “This is how businesses start. Everyone does it.”
The First Year — Hope, Hard Work, and Hidden Cracks
The café opened in October 2023.
I named it “Khmer Brew” — a small nod to my roots, serving Cambodian iced coffee, fresh spring rolls, and pastries my mom taught me to make.
First months were magic. Lines out the door, glowing reviews, local news did a feature.
I worked 16-hour days, hired three part-time staff, paid myself almost nothing to keep cash flowing.
Loan payment: $2,450/month.
I made it—barely.
Then 2024 happened.
Inflation hit hard. Coffee beans, milk, flour—all up 30–40%.
Rent increased 18%.
Utilities spiked.
Customers started cutting back—fewer pastries, smaller orders.
By summer 2024, revenue dropped 25%.
I still paid the loan—on time, every month.
I asked the bank for relief—lower payments, deferment.
They said no.
“Business risk is yours.”
The Slide Into Default — When the Numbers Stopped Working
September 2024: first late payment.
I paid it two weeks late with credit cards.
October: missed entirely.
November: same.
Bank started calling.
Then letters.
Then the notice:
“Default declared. Full balance due immediately. Collateral (your condo) subject to foreclosure.”
My condo—the one I bought at 26, the one I’d painted myself, the one I planned to raise a family in—was now collateral for the business loan.
I begged the bank: “Give me time. Business is seasonal.”
They said: “We’ve given you 90 days already.”
Foreclosure notice arrived December 2024.
I sold everything I could—equipment, furniture, even my car.
Paid $18,000 toward the balance.
Not enough.
They seized the condo January 2025.
Auctioned it February.
Sold for $210,000.
Loan balance remaining after sale: $160,000.
Now unsecured debt.
Collections started immediately.
Credit score: from 760 to 410.
Wage garnishment began March 2025—25% of my new job salary.
I’m living in a shared apartment, sleeping on a friend’s couch.
The Family That Watched From the Sidelines
I told my parents the truth in January 2025.
Mom cried: “We never wanted this for you.”
Dad: “You should have asked for help sooner.”
They never offered to help pay.
Chris: “You took the risk. You knew what you were doing.”
Mia: “Maybe you should have stayed at the coffee shop.”
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.
Still owe $140,000.
Credit ruined for at least seven years.
Can’t buy a house, rent nice places, sometimes get rejected for jobs that check credit.
The café? Closed permanently in December 2024.
I lost $180,000 of my own savings, plus the business.
And I lost the illusion that family would stand by you when you fall.
I helped my family take a bank loan.
I thought we were in it together.
We weren’t.
I’m the only one still paying.
Every month.
Every call.
Every night I can’t sleep.
If you’re thinking of co-signing or taking a big loan for a dream—don’t.
Unless you’re ready to lose everything.
Alone.
Thanks for reading.
