Thu, Dec 31 2009 11:21 AM
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“Peer-to-Peer lending” has a nice ring to it. The idea is that some folks have a little extra money and some folks need a little extra money and we’d all work together nicely if we could just keep the bankers out of it.
A year and a half in peer-to-peer lending makes me think there’s good reason to keep the bankers in it. After all, banking is essentially peer-to-peer lending with a bunch of fat cats and mahogany thrown in the middle. I don’t have their hard-nosed screening and money-management knowledge. The result is that I’m looking forward to breaking even on my lending experience. If I could punch out a couple of the borrowers who just plain lied, I might even feel good about it.
The bankers, by legend, are the evil ones who won’t lend money to the folks who need a little money and won’t pay the folks with a little extra money much to put that money to work.
So if Bob could spot Joe a C-note, he’d be happy to give it back to him over time with a little extra to thank him for his trouble. This all has a nice Woody Guthrie feel to it.
The problem is how Joe can find his Bob. Today’s default answer is the Internet. Several visionaries have created ways that small lenders can meet small borrowers online and earn some interest while helping the borrowers get over financial humps or make their entrepreneurial dreams come alive.
Best known among them are Lending Club and Prosper. Each works a little differently and both have had problems fitting their models within existing state and federal regulation of financial institutions. Prosper, for example, cannot accept money from lenders in 26 states, including Indiana. It can’t accept borrowers from Iowa, Maine and North Carolina.
At one time, however, Prosper could accept money from Indiana. I invested a little cash, trying to pick borrowers with care and a dash of Pete Seeger idealism. What I didn’t anticipate was that some of these borrowers saw Prosper as patsy-to-predator lending. Exhibit A was the owner of a quick service restaurant in San Juan Capistrano who said he wanted to expand his healthy operation into catering. He had a high Prosper rating, so I popped $50 into his $23,500 loan.
He made four payments, shut the restaurant (according to a friendly local newspaper reporter) and completed bankruptcy six months later. I fell for a plaintive plea from a young woman who borrowed $3,000 from a bunch of lenders (just a tiny bit from me), made two payments and went bankrupt.
About half of my borrowers have been diligent and punctual with their payments. That’s a record that clearly shows why we need bankers and why it’s best that I’m not one.
David Dawson