MERV HOLDINGSPlease sit.
I run a company.
MERV is one coin in a cheap suit. There is a slot in the top of his head and a paper slot under his chin. Money goes in the top. Shares come out the bottom.
“That is how a company works. I checked.”
Minted as a joke on a Tuesday
Somebody pressed one coin to make their friends laugh and then went to lunch. The coin stayed. It bought a suit with the change, found a room with one folding table in it, and started filing paperwork nobody had asked for.
“The paperwork is the serious part. Everything else is just the coin.”
Three years of forms later he still cannot explain what the company does. He can explain the forms beautifully.
Keep scrolling. He is slow but he is thorough.
The paper is real. The company is not.
Every certificate he prints carries the address that signed for it and a serial number pulled out of that signature. No two come out the same. He draws the border by hand every time, which is why the border is slightly wrong every time.
“A share of what? Of the company. Please do not keep asking.”
Nobody has opened the safe yet
Trading fees collect in there while MERV pretends not to look at it. He will open it the first time it holds half an ETH, or when his thirty day quarter runs out, whichever arrives first. Then he calls a meeting, because that is the one company thing he understands.
Anything paid out comes from those fees and from what people donate. It is a plan, not a promise.
Sign the visitor book
He keeps a book on the folding table. Sign it with your wallet and he writes you in, out loud, in his own handwriting. The signature is free and moves no money. The book stays in your browser.