VISA card for my gold buying company in Croatia

When I first stepped into the gold trade in Croatia — a land of coastal charm and hidden financial currents — I never imagined it would turn into a whirlwind. One day, a bank handed me a VISA card. Not just any card — a simple, unassuming plastic rectangle. But it was the key to a golden door.

We bought gold like it was oxygen — tons of it, in vaults and shops and whispered deals. We sold it like it was fire — fast, furious, and always at the right moment. The market danced under our feet, and we were the ones who learned its rhythm.

Then came the phone.

It rang. All day. All night. Every hour, sometimes twice. It wasn’t just calls — it was a symphony of urgency: clients, partners, brokers, investors. “Can you move this?” “What’s the price now?” “We need to close this deal before the market drops.” The phone became my heartbeat, my compass, my alarm clock — and sometimes, my siren song.

I’d be in the middle of a deal, and a call would come — a voice on the other end, trembling or triumphant — and suddenly, everything else faded. Gold wasn’t just metal anymore. It was a language. A rhythm. A life.

And that VISA card? It was the passport to it all.