Update on cardioversion- an answer to prayer?
11 years ago
Showing posts with label Retail. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Retail. Show all posts
Monday, 1 November 2010
Back to work
I started writing this blog while I've been off work having treatment for leukaemia. I've more or less finished listing the jobs that I've done over the last 43 years, and I'm having my hopefully final appointment with the specialist this week. Whatever the outcome, I'm back to work from Wednesday.
I've been blessed in that I'm working in a small independent solicitor's office, and they've kept my job open for the past 13 months. I was also lucky in having critical illness insurance cover, and that has now finished after 12 months of paying our mortgage. We, like everyone else I know, can't afford to live on only one income, so I have to go back to work.
That small fact is one noticeable change over the last 40-50 years. back in the 60s a man could earn enough to have his wife stay at home and run the household. Not any more.
Twenty five years ago I worked as a retail manager and earned about £10k. When I left the retail sector fifteen years ago that had risen to just under £20k.
I did a lot for the money. I recruited and trained my staff, ordered all the stock for the shelves, did all the merchandising, handled all the cash and bankings and was responsible for the security (yes I even arrested shoplifters and confronted and ejected louts who'd congregate in my shop).
These days the job pays considerably less. Why? Because the job has shrunk. The manager is now nothing more than a glorified key holder. EPOS takes care of the day to day ordering. Head Office allocations take care of the rest. 90-95% of my takings were in cash, nowadays it's far less. There's no doubt that the job has changed and the industry is far more centralised.
My friend used to work in a major booksellers. He was employed on the national minimum wage (which is also the national maximum wage in some jobs). Part of his job included being a keyholder from time to time. That's how far the job has changed.
It's quite hard to find a job that allows one to use one's initiative. Jobs are micro-managed and all creativity is stifled. It may be because the product/service demands uniformity of delivery, and it may be because the quality of staff is such that they can't be trusted to use their heads. The downside is that we have produced a generation who are almost incapable of showing initiative, of using their heads.
Red tape and regulation has chaged the workplace. There is a thing as The Law of Unintended Consequences. Take Employment Law.
It was originally introduced to give employees some protection from unscrupulous bosses who could sack you without notice. That is a good thing.
The Law of Unintended Consequences (LUC)kicked in, and now bosses won't hire anyone for fear of being unable to get rid of him or her.
Health and Safety was once a matter of common sense. Some aspects of the Law are reasonable, but LUC has made over-regulation a barrier to employing staff.
Maternity leave and sick pay sound great, but LUC has made these a major barrier to bosses taking young female staff on.
I could go on. The workplace is not what it once was.
I learned a few things down the years. I discovered very early on that the staff who make themselves indispensable and never have a day off or take holidays are 9 times out of 10 on the fiddle. This has been born out time and time again.
A friend of my boss ran a two-branch business a few miles away. A couple of years ago he bought new accounting software as his business was booming. It immediately showed a discrepancy in the books. He initially blamed the software, but after a major investigation it uncovered a long lasting and systematic theft by a senior and trusted member of staff amounting to thousands. He has since gone out of business.
About twenty years ago I was asked to manage a different branch of the bookshop chain I worked for. I hated it. I hated the journey. I hated the fact that the shop was in the middle of a building site and it was impossible to keep clean. I walked in one day to find a piece of the concrete ceiling had come away and brought the false ceiling down.
But what I hated most was the discovery after just a few days that my assistant manager was on the fiddle. The shop floor staff knew it but he'd intimidated them into keeping quiet. My predecessor and the area manager were oblivious to it.
They didn't believe me when I broached the subject. It was difficult to convince them, because they should have picked it up but hadn't. And yet it was obvious to my trained eye and years of cynical experience.
He confessed once he was confronted and was dismissed. Once he'd gone the staff told the whole sad and sorry story. Of how he'd walk out with armfuls of videos on the days when he managed the store. He was taking cash and stock and it took an outsider's pair of eyes to notice.
Luckily these incidents are few and far between.
But every system that's ever been set up and declared foolproof will always tempt someone to cheat it.
Saturday, 5 June 2010
Trolley pushing
I went shopping in Morrisons for the first time in months (due to being housebound with my leukaemia). Seeing the lads and one girl pushing snakes of trolleys back to the trolley park reminded me of a time 33 years ago when I did just that.
I was working at Tesco Weston Favell. At that time it was the biggest supermarket in the country. People would travel from all over the county and from as far away as Milton Keynes to do their shopping. We had over 30 checkouts and at times every one was busy, with long queues at every till. This meant that we were always out of trolleys.
I had a small team of lads and our job was to keep the trolleys moving back to the trolley park in the entrance. When it was really busy we'd wait while a customer unloaded their trolley into their car and almost snatch it out of their hands, such was the demand for trolleys. We had one goods/passenger lift that would take twenty trolleys and many times I'd ride up the lift, open the doors and twenty or thirty shoppers would descend on the left, take the trolleys and rush into the store. We hardly ever had to empty the lift! It didn't matter how many trolleys we had, there were never enough. We had a team with a van and trailer touring the local estates rescuing trolleys from alleyways and ponds, and we had a contractor come in every couple of months to repair the trolleys and steam clean the really dirty ones.
Like the time a woman left her young child to soil itself while sitting on the baby seat. It was everywhere. On the mesh, on the floor. As we rushed over with a mop and bucket she never batted an eyelid, just scooped the child up, left everything and went and got another trolley and started again.
There's an art to pushing a row of trolleys, especially when the ground slopes as it did under the Weston Favell Centre. It was possible to push twenty trolleys without them breaking away if you kept them pointing upslope slightly. Once you were at full speed, a flick of the wrist would point the trolleys downhill onto a ramp up the kerb. You soon learned when to stop pushing so that the row of trolleys would stop just in front of the lift. We were out in all weathers, and apart from one or two very lazy lads who's rather argue than push a trolley, we kept the trolleys rolling, and thereby kept the tills ringing.
Now that every town has two or three supermarkets we will never see the levels of business that we had back in the seventies and eighties.
When we lived in Somerset our nearest Tesco was either Bristol or Yeovil. Now there are Tescos is Shepton Mallet where we lived, and in Wells where I worked.
In the early eighties the nearest cashpoint was in Bath, more than 30 miles away. Now even our local newsagent has a cashpoint machine.
The banks have closed branches everywhere. There will come a time when banks will be as rare as cashpoint machines were in the 80s.
We seem oblivious to one consequence. Every cashpoint machine has contributed to the loss of a person's job.
However, they'll always need someone to push the trolleys.
Thursday, 3 June 2010
The Net Book Agreement
One of the many temp jobs I did was at a local print works about ten or so years ago. They needed some extra pairs of hands with a huge print run of magazines. It was all very clean, light and airy and the work wasn't too strenuous. Pick this up, put it there, and so on. There were frequent stops while they worked on the machines and our small gang of temps were moved around the works as required. All in all an interesting couple of days for a couple of reasons.
It wouldn't have happened at all a few years before that. The printing trade was 100% unionised and any non-union labour would have had them out on strike. We can all remember the scenes in Wapping when News International moved production of their papers out of Fleet St.
I drove past the site of the print works the other day. It is no more. The buildings are demolished and the concrete floor is a car park for the local hospital workforce. The other printworks where the local paper was edited and printed was knocked down about fifteen years ago and production transferred to Northampton. It's inevitable that that print works will also close as more and more people get their news on-line rather than from a newspaper.
I thought about this as I was browsing Ebay looking for books by a particular author. This week it's Kurt Vonnegut. I have a dozen or so and I'm looking for more of his books to take on holiday. As I browsed the lists I thought about the Net Book Agreement, which was in force when I managed Volume One Books in Northampton twenty years ago.
According to Wikipedia
"The Net Book Agreement (NBA) was a British fixed Book Price between publishers and booksellers which set the prices at which books were to be sold to the public.
It came into effect on January 1, 1900 and involved retailers selling books at agreed prices. Any bookseller who sold a book at less than the agreed price would no longer be supplied by the publisher in question.
In 1962 the Net Book Agreement was examined by the Restrictive Practices Court which decided that the NBA was of benefit to the industry, since it enabled publishers to subsidise the printing of the works of important but less widely-read authors using money from bestsellers."
I was made redundant in 1994 when the Goldsteins foresaw the end of the NBA and put the company into administration. The new owners and I didn't see eye to eye about how the books were ordered, etc and I was made redundant. I was happy to go. Within a few months the Net Book Agreement was no more and Sunday Trading had been forced through. My employment contract would have been changed for the worst. I was glad to go.
I was a firm believer in the Net Book Agreement. Books are not baked beans. You don't read your Dan Brown or Nick Hornby or whatever your favourite author happens to be, and then pop down the supermarket for another one. Each book is unique. They take time to write. The most prolific authors only manage about three every two years. They are a premium product.
So why pile them high and sell them cheap? Why reduce your margin and even sell them at a loss? Waterstones opened at midnight to sell Harry Potter at half RRP.
Two things. Either the RRP was wrong or they sold it at a loss. All that work , all that expense, all that aggro and they sell it at a loss. They're mad.
Secondly, the books were printed in China and shipped over by the container load.
Hardly any books are printed in the UK now. Since the NBA was scrapped the publishers can't afford to. So all those printer's jobs are gone forever. When they close the print works or shoe factories the machines aren't scrapped. They're sold, boxed up and sent to factories in the far East where they are used to print books or make shoes that are sold back to us.
Cheapest is dearest. Always.
Monday, 26 April 2010
Good Buying or Goodbye
I've already posted about one firm that went bust because of bad buying decisions, now I want to tell you another story about my time working in retail.
I was working as manager of a large bookstore in Northampton in the late 1980s. The store was set up by the Goldsteins when they were directors of Kingfisher Plc. They d sold Superdrug to Kingfisher a few years before and wanted to try something new. Volume One Bookshops was a new concept in retailing and a complete change from the "libraries with tills" look that characterised bookselling at that time.
Our shops were bright, had acres of space to display books with the covers out rather than spine-on, and sold videos as well. Sell-through video was a very recent concept. Up until that time videos were rental only. No-one foresaw the potential, or that legions of Dr Who or Startrek fans would buy every episode of their favourite shows to watch at home over and over again.
Volume One were one of the first to sell videos alongside books and in time the business grew so that half our turnover came fom selling VHS cassettes. We ordered our stock from a wholesaler called Parkfield. They were the main wholesaler in the UK. We could ring our order in on a Monday and it would be delivered the next day. This meant that we could keep our stockholding to a minimum and reduce our exposure to bad purchases clogging up the shelves.
Sell through video was like pop music with a very short shelf life. A film would be released on a Monday, sell for a week or two and never sell another copy. It made sound economic sense to keep our stocks at a minimum, although the margins were lower than if we had bought direct from the publisher. Using a wholesaler made such good economic sense. The wholesaler held the stocks and we could replace our sales within a couple of days. Constant stock-turn more than compensated for the lower margins. This was good buying.
We started having problems with our video supplier soon after we read in the press how they planned to become the largest video wholesaler in Europe. Each delivery would have lines missing. This went on for week after week. I found out that the firm were taking in so much stock for the Christmas rush that the staff didn't have time to pick the orders going out to the customers. The problem of short deliveries got so bad that we had to change suppliers. Needless to say the video distribution company went bust soon after, having filled numerous warehouses with stock that they couldn't dispatch to their customers.
The firm failed because of bad buying.
We used a couple of wholesalers for buying books. One of them was a small family firm on the South coast. Nothing was too much trouble. You could get in your car and pay them a visit, walk around the warehouse and choose some stock which was then scanned, an invoice/delivery note printed there and then, and the books packed into a box which you could either take away or have delivered the next day.
Our other supplier had a huge brand new state of the art warehouse, and a computer system that was unable to update fast enough to keep up with the business. Every book had a bar code, yet the warehouse lacked bar code readers to input the stocks, which had to be input manually. The stock levels were only updated each evening, so they never knew what stocks they had. The computer said one figure, but the reality was always different. We d place an order and their computer system was unable to distinguish whether the books were on the shelves ready to be picked, in the loading bay ready to be unpacked, or already picked and waiting to go to a customer. Once again we were faced with unacceptable shortages in our deliveries and we switched supplier. They went bust soon afterwards. They had no control over their stock.
Bad information equals bad buying.
Bad buying equals goodbye.
A few years ago I worked in a warehouse that supplied tenpin bowling equipment to the various bowling complexes in the UK. If you bowl regularly you will soon buy your own ball.
The technology of bowling balls is very complex.The normal ball you use when you go bowling for fun is a far cry from the highly complex balls that are used by the serious players. Everything from the shape of the core (the middle of the ball) to the type of material that covers the ball will have an effect on how it moves down the lane. Serious bowlers buy their ball from the bowling pro in the same way that the golfer buys from the golf shop at his course. When you buy a bowling ball it comes without holes. The pro will measure your hand and will cut the holes so that it fits you exactly. You can choose the weight of the ball. Years ago the serious players would use a heavy 16lb ball in order to get the swerve and power to score consistently high. As the technology developed and the players got older they found that they could get the same power and control with a 15lb ball. To all extents and purposes the 16lb ball was obsolete. My friend and work colleague was responsible for ordering the stocks of balls and although he knew as well as everyone else in the industry that 16lb balls were obsolete, he would still order "a few" each time.
Every time a new ball was introduced we would sell out of 14 and 15lb balls, leaving the 16lb balls unsold. Eventually we had a warehouse full of 16lb balls that no-one wanted. We ended up giving them away,although it might have been better to send them to landfill.
The company is no more. Bad buying contributed to their downfall.
I was working as manager of a large bookstore in Northampton in the late 1980s. The store was set up by the Goldsteins when they were directors of Kingfisher Plc. They d sold Superdrug to Kingfisher a few years before and wanted to try something new. Volume One Bookshops was a new concept in retailing and a complete change from the "libraries with tills" look that characterised bookselling at that time.
Our shops were bright, had acres of space to display books with the covers out rather than spine-on, and sold videos as well. Sell-through video was a very recent concept. Up until that time videos were rental only. No-one foresaw the potential, or that legions of Dr Who or Startrek fans would buy every episode of their favourite shows to watch at home over and over again.
Volume One were one of the first to sell videos alongside books and in time the business grew so that half our turnover came fom selling VHS cassettes. We ordered our stock from a wholesaler called Parkfield. They were the main wholesaler in the UK. We could ring our order in on a Monday and it would be delivered the next day. This meant that we could keep our stockholding to a minimum and reduce our exposure to bad purchases clogging up the shelves.
Sell through video was like pop music with a very short shelf life. A film would be released on a Monday, sell for a week or two and never sell another copy. It made sound economic sense to keep our stocks at a minimum, although the margins were lower than if we had bought direct from the publisher. Using a wholesaler made such good economic sense. The wholesaler held the stocks and we could replace our sales within a couple of days. Constant stock-turn more than compensated for the lower margins. This was good buying.
We started having problems with our video supplier soon after we read in the press how they planned to become the largest video wholesaler in Europe. Each delivery would have lines missing. This went on for week after week. I found out that the firm were taking in so much stock for the Christmas rush that the staff didn't have time to pick the orders going out to the customers. The problem of short deliveries got so bad that we had to change suppliers. Needless to say the video distribution company went bust soon after, having filled numerous warehouses with stock that they couldn't dispatch to their customers.
The firm failed because of bad buying.
We used a couple of wholesalers for buying books. One of them was a small family firm on the South coast. Nothing was too much trouble. You could get in your car and pay them a visit, walk around the warehouse and choose some stock which was then scanned, an invoice/delivery note printed there and then, and the books packed into a box which you could either take away or have delivered the next day.
Our other supplier had a huge brand new state of the art warehouse, and a computer system that was unable to update fast enough to keep up with the business. Every book had a bar code, yet the warehouse lacked bar code readers to input the stocks, which had to be input manually. The stock levels were only updated each evening, so they never knew what stocks they had. The computer said one figure, but the reality was always different. We d place an order and their computer system was unable to distinguish whether the books were on the shelves ready to be picked, in the loading bay ready to be unpacked, or already picked and waiting to go to a customer. Once again we were faced with unacceptable shortages in our deliveries and we switched supplier. They went bust soon afterwards. They had no control over their stock.
Bad information equals bad buying.
Bad buying equals goodbye.
A few years ago I worked in a warehouse that supplied tenpin bowling equipment to the various bowling complexes in the UK. If you bowl regularly you will soon buy your own ball.
The technology of bowling balls is very complex.The normal ball you use when you go bowling for fun is a far cry from the highly complex balls that are used by the serious players. Everything from the shape of the core (the middle of the ball) to the type of material that covers the ball will have an effect on how it moves down the lane. Serious bowlers buy their ball from the bowling pro in the same way that the golfer buys from the golf shop at his course. When you buy a bowling ball it comes without holes. The pro will measure your hand and will cut the holes so that it fits you exactly. You can choose the weight of the ball. Years ago the serious players would use a heavy 16lb ball in order to get the swerve and power to score consistently high. As the technology developed and the players got older they found that they could get the same power and control with a 15lb ball. To all extents and purposes the 16lb ball was obsolete. My friend and work colleague was responsible for ordering the stocks of balls and although he knew as well as everyone else in the industry that 16lb balls were obsolete, he would still order "a few" each time.
Every time a new ball was introduced we would sell out of 14 and 15lb balls, leaving the 16lb balls unsold. Eventually we had a warehouse full of 16lb balls that no-one wanted. We ended up giving them away,although it might have been better to send them to landfill.
The company is no more. Bad buying contributed to their downfall.
Tuesday, 13 April 2010
That sinking feeling
It's 1988. We moved back from Somerset the year before and we've just moved house again. Sue had bought a house in Kettering so that we had somewhere to live while we sorted ourselves out. It was a nice mid terraced house overlooking a park and we paid £34,000 for it, having sold our house in Shepton Mallet for £37,000. House prices were rising fast and we decided to move while we could, so, one year after we bought our home, we sold it for £46,000 and bought another one on the outskirts of the town. It was slighly larger and had a garage. We paid £48,000 for it.
It's worth noting that our house earned more in that year than I did. I was on about £11,000 as I recall.
As well as moving house, I was in line for the new store in Corby that was due to open later that year. The company still had plans to continue expanding and had a brand new state of the art distribution centre in Southampton. It was then that we began to hear rumours that the company was up for sale. The rumours were confirmed. Everything went on hold and I had to continue commuting to St Ives.
Then the news came through that the company had been bought by Superdrug.
Oh joy.
There were a few ex-Superdrug managers working for Share and none of us felt secure. We were called to a meeting to meet the new owners and I came face to face with my nemesis who by now had been promoted from Area Manager to Regional Director. I recognised a few of the Area Managers as well. Superdrug only appointed from within so they'd been managers when I was kicking my heels as an assistant manager.
After that meeting which seemed to go OK (there were no promises made that we would automatically keep our jobs) I recived a letter stating what I could expect if I decided to accept redundancy. It wasn't a lot and I'd just moved into a new more expensive house. I agonised over this for a week or two and finally and reluctantly accepted the new contract from Superdrug.
Share had already appointed a new manager for St Ives, so I was once again a spare manager. I went around the various local stores to re-acquaint myself with the systems, which hadn't changed much, only evolved and then I heard that Superdrug had taken over the lease that Share had signed on the new store at Corby, so I applied for the position and was given the OK.
Once again I was recruiting, and training staff, fitting out and stocking the store. The store opened and we started trading. I can only remember a few things about it.
One was the silly lift from the warehouse to the shop floor. It was only about 3 feet high and just big enough for one stock trolley.
Then there was the steady stream of toerags who had nothing better to do than to stand outside taunting me. They were all barred from entering, but that didn't seem to stop them. They thought it was a game. They'd intimidate the younger staff and openly shoplift unless I stood in front of them. I wish I'd had a cattle prod.
The next was the staff's accents. Although Corby is less than ten miles from Kettering, the people speak with an entirely different accent, a strange almost scottish accent. This derives from the huge influx of Scottish and Irish families to work at the steelworks in the 1930s, when the population increased from 1500 to 15,000 in a little over eighteen months.
Finally there was my chief cashier. She lived on one of the more notorious estates. She knew everyone who came into the store. OK so far, but then she didn't turn up for work one Saturday and rang in sick. This meant that I had to cash up the tills on my own and at that time we used to take the banking to the local bank and deposit it in the night safe. We closed on time and I asked a couple of Saturday staff to wait and walk with me to the bank. As we rounded the corner I was jumped from behind by a young man who tried to grab my briefcase which looked like a security case. I fell to the floor and we had a tug of war for a second or two. I managed to kick him hard in the balls but in doing so broke my hold on the case. He ran away with my case which contained my wallet, some papers and the remains of my lunch. The night safe wallet was inside my jacket, tucked under my armpit. My glasses were broken and I was bleeding from a cut above my eye. I placed the wallet in the night safe and went to a call box, rang home and then called for an ambulance. The cheque cards were cancelled before the lad had stopped running. The police later found my briefcase in the local river and no, I didn't get it back.
I rang the area manager and he arranged to meet me early on Monday morning. When I arrived at work I looked a sight. I had a huge black eye and swollen face. We sat at the checkout to greet the staff as they came in. I kept my back to each one and turned to face them in order to gauge their reaction.
Only one person didn't register shock.
Guess who?
My chief cashier.
We suspected that she'd tipped off her boyfriend and he'd mugged me. Only there was no proof.
She put in her notice a few weeks later.
Funny that.
About nine months after the store opened I was on the move again. I was asked to take over an existing Share store in Northampton.
And I went on a training course. My first proper training course since I'd left school over twenty years before. Ah, well, it's never too late to learn.
It's worth noting that our house earned more in that year than I did. I was on about £11,000 as I recall.
As well as moving house, I was in line for the new store in Corby that was due to open later that year. The company still had plans to continue expanding and had a brand new state of the art distribution centre in Southampton. It was then that we began to hear rumours that the company was up for sale. The rumours were confirmed. Everything went on hold and I had to continue commuting to St Ives.
Then the news came through that the company had been bought by Superdrug.
Oh joy.
There were a few ex-Superdrug managers working for Share and none of us felt secure. We were called to a meeting to meet the new owners and I came face to face with my nemesis who by now had been promoted from Area Manager to Regional Director. I recognised a few of the Area Managers as well. Superdrug only appointed from within so they'd been managers when I was kicking my heels as an assistant manager.
After that meeting which seemed to go OK (there were no promises made that we would automatically keep our jobs) I recived a letter stating what I could expect if I decided to accept redundancy. It wasn't a lot and I'd just moved into a new more expensive house. I agonised over this for a week or two and finally and reluctantly accepted the new contract from Superdrug.
Share had already appointed a new manager for St Ives, so I was once again a spare manager. I went around the various local stores to re-acquaint myself with the systems, which hadn't changed much, only evolved and then I heard that Superdrug had taken over the lease that Share had signed on the new store at Corby, so I applied for the position and was given the OK.
Once again I was recruiting, and training staff, fitting out and stocking the store. The store opened and we started trading. I can only remember a few things about it.
One was the silly lift from the warehouse to the shop floor. It was only about 3 feet high and just big enough for one stock trolley.
Then there was the steady stream of toerags who had nothing better to do than to stand outside taunting me. They were all barred from entering, but that didn't seem to stop them. They thought it was a game. They'd intimidate the younger staff and openly shoplift unless I stood in front of them. I wish I'd had a cattle prod.
The next was the staff's accents. Although Corby is less than ten miles from Kettering, the people speak with an entirely different accent, a strange almost scottish accent. This derives from the huge influx of Scottish and Irish families to work at the steelworks in the 1930s, when the population increased from 1500 to 15,000 in a little over eighteen months.
Finally there was my chief cashier. She lived on one of the more notorious estates. She knew everyone who came into the store. OK so far, but then she didn't turn up for work one Saturday and rang in sick. This meant that I had to cash up the tills on my own and at that time we used to take the banking to the local bank and deposit it in the night safe. We closed on time and I asked a couple of Saturday staff to wait and walk with me to the bank. As we rounded the corner I was jumped from behind by a young man who tried to grab my briefcase which looked like a security case. I fell to the floor and we had a tug of war for a second or two. I managed to kick him hard in the balls but in doing so broke my hold on the case. He ran away with my case which contained my wallet, some papers and the remains of my lunch. The night safe wallet was inside my jacket, tucked under my armpit. My glasses were broken and I was bleeding from a cut above my eye. I placed the wallet in the night safe and went to a call box, rang home and then called for an ambulance. The cheque cards were cancelled before the lad had stopped running. The police later found my briefcase in the local river and no, I didn't get it back.
I rang the area manager and he arranged to meet me early on Monday morning. When I arrived at work I looked a sight. I had a huge black eye and swollen face. We sat at the checkout to greet the staff as they came in. I kept my back to each one and turned to face them in order to gauge their reaction.
Only one person didn't register shock.
Guess who?
My chief cashier.
We suspected that she'd tipped off her boyfriend and he'd mugged me. Only there was no proof.
She put in her notice a few weeks later.
Funny that.
About nine months after the store opened I was on the move again. I was asked to take over an existing Share store in Northampton.
And I went on a training course. My first proper training course since I'd left school over twenty years before. Ah, well, it's never too late to learn.
Tuesday, 6 April 2010
Good buying
I worked in retail for about twenty years and I learned that good buying is much more important than good selling.
I moved to Somerset in the mid 1980s to open and manage a 3000 sq ft CTN (Confectionary, tobacco, news) in Wells. I was responsible for most of the buying, with the exception of the promotional items. The company used a separate firm to negotiate deals and import goods from the Far East.
Less than eighteen months after joining the company the buyers had destroyed the company, one that had a history going back over 100 years.
Some examples.
Easter Eggs. The company decided to take on Tesco and Woolworths and sell Easter Eggs at silly prices. Bear in mind that most of the shops were small newsagents less than 1000 sq feet, that is, a fraction of the size of an average supermarket, with a correspondingly smaller number of customers, no advertising budget and tiny windows to display your goodies.
Not looking hopeful is it?
The company were persuaded that it was a good idea and we went ahead. We received deliveries of eggs that filled every nook and carnny of the store. We pile the eggs high and sold them cheap. Come Easter Monday we'd sold thousands at great expense of energy and stress. However, we still had thousands left over, so we had to reduce them in price still further in order to clear them.
Then we sat down and worked out how much profit we'd made by selling all those eggs at give away prices.
None. Nothing. Zilch.
Then there was the toys and fancy goods. Every month I'd drive up the country to a presentation where the buyers would show us what they'd bought for us. They made a great play of how much margin these goods would produce. (assuming that we could sell them).
Then the goods would arrive. Lorry loads. Every shop had more stock than it could display. Each month we'd remove all the unsold items from the previous month's special promotion and put them in the stockroom along with all the other unsold items. Each month we'd get more stock and the backrooms would be bulging with unsold goods.
The ultimate insult came in 1985, when the buyers decided that we should be selling Acorn Electron computers. Just the hardware. There was no software available. I received ten of these misbegotten follies to sell and set one up on the counter. Remember that this was a W H Smith type of outlet. We sold newspapers and magazines, greetings cards, tobacco and confectionery and some toys and gifts. We also sold records and cassettes and outsold the Woolworths next door. Wells is a tiny city of about 5000. There is a tourist season but the winters are very quiet. And I had to sell computers without software and without any training. I'd never seen a computer let alone operate one.
I went without saying that the company's financial situation became dire. We were on stop with all our suppliers,and had to pay cash on delivery for cigarettes. The margin on cigarettes is tiny, less than 5%, so it was clear that we couldn't survive.
And we didn't. We were taken over by Martins, part of the Guiness empire at that time.
I hated working for them. In some respects they were worse than the other shower. But at least they had their buyers under control.
I learned that potential profit margins are only potential. Until the cash in in the till, the product is either a liability or an asset. Good buys are an asset, bad buys are a liability.
I left the company in 1986 after about two years. The new management treated us like criminals. It wasn't the fault of the store managers that the buyers were out of control, but we got the blame. I kept a tight control of the items that I was responsible for buying. I kept waste to a minimum and kept a close eye on the shrinkage. I sacked one member of staff for underringing on the tills and that dissuaded the others from trying it on.
What did it for me was when the chief executive of Guiness awarded himself a 10% rise. The Martins staff got 5% and those of us who'd been taken over after our firm had gone bust had to be content with 2%.
It was time for a change again.
I moved to Somerset in the mid 1980s to open and manage a 3000 sq ft CTN (Confectionary, tobacco, news) in Wells. I was responsible for most of the buying, with the exception of the promotional items. The company used a separate firm to negotiate deals and import goods from the Far East.
Less than eighteen months after joining the company the buyers had destroyed the company, one that had a history going back over 100 years.
Some examples.
Easter Eggs. The company decided to take on Tesco and Woolworths and sell Easter Eggs at silly prices. Bear in mind that most of the shops were small newsagents less than 1000 sq feet, that is, a fraction of the size of an average supermarket, with a correspondingly smaller number of customers, no advertising budget and tiny windows to display your goodies.
Not looking hopeful is it?
The company were persuaded that it was a good idea and we went ahead. We received deliveries of eggs that filled every nook and carnny of the store. We pile the eggs high and sold them cheap. Come Easter Monday we'd sold thousands at great expense of energy and stress. However, we still had thousands left over, so we had to reduce them in price still further in order to clear them.
Then we sat down and worked out how much profit we'd made by selling all those eggs at give away prices.
None. Nothing. Zilch.
Then there was the toys and fancy goods. Every month I'd drive up the country to a presentation where the buyers would show us what they'd bought for us. They made a great play of how much margin these goods would produce. (assuming that we could sell them).
Then the goods would arrive. Lorry loads. Every shop had more stock than it could display. Each month we'd remove all the unsold items from the previous month's special promotion and put them in the stockroom along with all the other unsold items. Each month we'd get more stock and the backrooms would be bulging with unsold goods.
The ultimate insult came in 1985, when the buyers decided that we should be selling Acorn Electron computers. Just the hardware. There was no software available. I received ten of these misbegotten follies to sell and set one up on the counter. Remember that this was a W H Smith type of outlet. We sold newspapers and magazines, greetings cards, tobacco and confectionery and some toys and gifts. We also sold records and cassettes and outsold the Woolworths next door. Wells is a tiny city of about 5000. There is a tourist season but the winters are very quiet. And I had to sell computers without software and without any training. I'd never seen a computer let alone operate one.
I went without saying that the company's financial situation became dire. We were on stop with all our suppliers,and had to pay cash on delivery for cigarettes. The margin on cigarettes is tiny, less than 5%, so it was clear that we couldn't survive.
And we didn't. We were taken over by Martins, part of the Guiness empire at that time.
I hated working for them. In some respects they were worse than the other shower. But at least they had their buyers under control.
I learned that potential profit margins are only potential. Until the cash in in the till, the product is either a liability or an asset. Good buys are an asset, bad buys are a liability.
I left the company in 1986 after about two years. The new management treated us like criminals. It wasn't the fault of the store managers that the buyers were out of control, but we got the blame. I kept a tight control of the items that I was responsible for buying. I kept waste to a minimum and kept a close eye on the shrinkage. I sacked one member of staff for underringing on the tills and that dissuaded the others from trying it on.
What did it for me was when the chief executive of Guiness awarded himself a 10% rise. The Martins staff got 5% and those of us who'd been taken over after our firm had gone bust had to be content with 2%.
It was time for a change again.
Wednesday, 24 March 2010
Good and bad bosses
I've had a few bosses in my time. I've worked alongside a few, and I've been a boss as well. Here are a few of my observations down the years.
When I worked at the bank the manager was a seldom seen figure who occupied an office and hardly ever emerged. He left the day to day running of his branch to the deputy or assistant manager, who then delegated down to the various department heads. It worked well. Because the business was run to deadlines, the overriding concern was to getting the job done to the highest possible standard in the shortest possible time. Once everything was completed and the assistant manager gave the OK, we could go home. Because it took a long time to progress to branch manager, and because there was a well defined career path, one rarely encountered a ruthless, devious and ambitious individual trying to short cut his way to the top by fair means or foul. One did, however, encounter a bunch of bank clerks who had reached the limits of their ability and whose career path lay in a series of sideways moves.
My lack of ambition caused me to be transferred to the various sub-branches of the bank, along with the other no-hopers, and each day was spent in doing the work as quickly as possible so that I could go home.
It wasn't until I worked in retail that I encountered an environment that rewarded ability rather than length of service, and these observations are based on my retail experiences.
The first thing I noticed was how some managers would employ tactics that kept their subordinates fighting each other. Divide and rule. While your departmental and assistant managers are fighting each other, they're not fighting you.
Then I noticed that some managers rule by fear, while others by encouragement. In every business the manager needs to stand out. He need to be head and shoulders above the rest.
Some managers do this by kicking their staff so that they are always on their knees. The manager is the only one standing.
However, the best managers that I worked for and with would encourage and equip their staff, making them strong and able to stand tall- with the manager carried on their shoulders.
As I travelled from branch to branch, either assisting or training managers, or relieving them for days off or holidays, or taking over from them and managing their store, I noticed another difference between good and bad managers.
Some managers would deliberately hold the store back, rather than allow turnover to increase to its full potential. They would hold the store to the level that they could manage,and not allow it to grow any further. Success brought problems to them. A bigger turnover meant more stock had to be ordered and handled. A busier store brought problems of staff training and retention. It brought security and shoplifting problems. If turnover was held to the rate of inflation, it meant a quieter life.
I was a pioneer rather than a settler. I preferred the challenge of taking an empty shell of a shop unit and fitting it out, of recruiting and training my staff, of ordering the stock and filling the shelves, and the bustle and excitement of opening day. I enjoyed working hard and growing the turnover week by week and following it through a complete year, with the Christmas build up and climax, and the post Christmas doldrums. After about eighteen months I was ready for a new challenge.
I was lucky in that most of the firms I worked for, namely Superdrug, Share Drugstores and Volume One Bookshops operated at a time when it was possible to open new shops in town centres, that there were new markets to break into, and big profits to be made.
As a manager I opened five new stores, and assisted in the opening of several more.
I trained many a new manager, some of whom went on to greater things.
I got out of retail at the right time and have never looked back.
When I worked at the bank the manager was a seldom seen figure who occupied an office and hardly ever emerged. He left the day to day running of his branch to the deputy or assistant manager, who then delegated down to the various department heads. It worked well. Because the business was run to deadlines, the overriding concern was to getting the job done to the highest possible standard in the shortest possible time. Once everything was completed and the assistant manager gave the OK, we could go home. Because it took a long time to progress to branch manager, and because there was a well defined career path, one rarely encountered a ruthless, devious and ambitious individual trying to short cut his way to the top by fair means or foul. One did, however, encounter a bunch of bank clerks who had reached the limits of their ability and whose career path lay in a series of sideways moves.
My lack of ambition caused me to be transferred to the various sub-branches of the bank, along with the other no-hopers, and each day was spent in doing the work as quickly as possible so that I could go home.
It wasn't until I worked in retail that I encountered an environment that rewarded ability rather than length of service, and these observations are based on my retail experiences.
The first thing I noticed was how some managers would employ tactics that kept their subordinates fighting each other. Divide and rule. While your departmental and assistant managers are fighting each other, they're not fighting you.
Then I noticed that some managers rule by fear, while others by encouragement. In every business the manager needs to stand out. He need to be head and shoulders above the rest.
Some managers do this by kicking their staff so that they are always on their knees. The manager is the only one standing.
However, the best managers that I worked for and with would encourage and equip their staff, making them strong and able to stand tall- with the manager carried on their shoulders.
As I travelled from branch to branch, either assisting or training managers, or relieving them for days off or holidays, or taking over from them and managing their store, I noticed another difference between good and bad managers.
Some managers would deliberately hold the store back, rather than allow turnover to increase to its full potential. They would hold the store to the level that they could manage,and not allow it to grow any further. Success brought problems to them. A bigger turnover meant more stock had to be ordered and handled. A busier store brought problems of staff training and retention. It brought security and shoplifting problems. If turnover was held to the rate of inflation, it meant a quieter life.
I was a pioneer rather than a settler. I preferred the challenge of taking an empty shell of a shop unit and fitting it out, of recruiting and training my staff, of ordering the stock and filling the shelves, and the bustle and excitement of opening day. I enjoyed working hard and growing the turnover week by week and following it through a complete year, with the Christmas build up and climax, and the post Christmas doldrums. After about eighteen months I was ready for a new challenge.
I was lucky in that most of the firms I worked for, namely Superdrug, Share Drugstores and Volume One Bookshops operated at a time when it was possible to open new shops in town centres, that there were new markets to break into, and big profits to be made.
As a manager I opened five new stores, and assisted in the opening of several more.
I trained many a new manager, some of whom went on to greater things.
I got out of retail at the right time and have never looked back.
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
The greasy pole, or the onset of ambition
I've never been particularly ambitious. My form teacher at my first grammar school wrote on my end of term report that I was over inclined to rest on my laurels and time has proved him correct.
I do just enough to get comfortable and only move if bored or threatened, or if I suddenly get ambitious.
I've already posted about my ambitions for 1978. Learn to drive, new house, new job. I started work at Superdrug and found myself surrounded by ambitious people with differing levels of ruthlessness. When Superdrug started in 1966, it was a very hands-on set up. The Goldsteins did everything and as the company grew they recruited like minded people to take the company forward. They never once recruited an area manager. On the retail side, everyone started at the bottom, as a trainee manager. They learned how the company worked by doing the work. Those with talent got their own store very quickly. They were expanding at a steady rate, without having to go into debt and keeping all expenditure under control. There was never a penny wasted. As the company grew they needed an area manager and they appointed someone who'd been a manager at the very start. He then became a Regional Director as the company expanded. It was said that if you cut the arm off a Superdrug area manager, you'd see "Superdrug" running through the arm, like letters in a stick of rock.
I wasn't into such naked ambition. If it was a case of "compete or retreat", I'd leave them to it.
And that was how it was for two or three years.
Then I reached thirty and I decided I'd better get a move on. I decided to pull my weight a little more and improve my performance. I even asked to be considered for any new shops that might be opening. My bosses were gobsmacked. They'd got used to me doing just enough to stay out of trouble and there I was, bright as a button and looking for promotion. A few months later and I still felt the same way. I was based in Northampton but travelling to all the stores in a forty mile radius. I even transferred to Peterborough for a while, and commuted daily.
This went on for a year or two. I was getting more and more frustrated, and my bosses were digging their heels in. I had to get another job and I didn't care where.
Some people are naturally ambitious, but remain affable. My ambition made me angry mean and nasty. I was not nice to know.
I do just enough to get comfortable and only move if bored or threatened, or if I suddenly get ambitious.
I've already posted about my ambitions for 1978. Learn to drive, new house, new job. I started work at Superdrug and found myself surrounded by ambitious people with differing levels of ruthlessness. When Superdrug started in 1966, it was a very hands-on set up. The Goldsteins did everything and as the company grew they recruited like minded people to take the company forward. They never once recruited an area manager. On the retail side, everyone started at the bottom, as a trainee manager. They learned how the company worked by doing the work. Those with talent got their own store very quickly. They were expanding at a steady rate, without having to go into debt and keeping all expenditure under control. There was never a penny wasted. As the company grew they needed an area manager and they appointed someone who'd been a manager at the very start. He then became a Regional Director as the company expanded. It was said that if you cut the arm off a Superdrug area manager, you'd see "Superdrug" running through the arm, like letters in a stick of rock.
I wasn't into such naked ambition. If it was a case of "compete or retreat", I'd leave them to it.
And that was how it was for two or three years.
Then I reached thirty and I decided I'd better get a move on. I decided to pull my weight a little more and improve my performance. I even asked to be considered for any new shops that might be opening. My bosses were gobsmacked. They'd got used to me doing just enough to stay out of trouble and there I was, bright as a button and looking for promotion. A few months later and I still felt the same way. I was based in Northampton but travelling to all the stores in a forty mile radius. I even transferred to Peterborough for a while, and commuted daily.
This went on for a year or two. I was getting more and more frustrated, and my bosses were digging their heels in. I had to get another job and I didn't care where.
Some people are naturally ambitious, but remain affable. My ambition made me angry mean and nasty. I was not nice to know.
Tuesday, 16 March 2010
Superdrug
Superdrug was set up in the early sixties by the Goldstein family. Ralph (the father) had sold his chain of supermarkets to Tesco and his sons Peter, Ronald & Howard were looking for a new venture. They opened the first Superdrug in Putney High St in 1966. They found the premises, fitted it out, stocked the shelves and manned the tills. They grew the business from humble beginnings and there wasn't one single aspect of the business that they hadn't done. They knew it inside out.
I was interviewed by Peter Goldstein at the Northampton branch of Superdrug and he offered me a job. The company was growing, opening new stores almost every week and he made a point of telling me about the opportunities for promotion that existed within the company.
One thing convinced me to join Superdrug.
It wasn't Tesco.
I wasn't prepared for the culture shock when I turned up for work on my first day.
For a start, it was very formal. All the management staff called each other Mr.... No first names.
No fraternising with the staff. Inappropriate behaviour with a female member of staff was a sacking offence. It was like being an officer on a ship of the line.
Then there were the hours of work. The store opened from 9.00 to 5.30. I was expected to start at 7.00 to unload the deliveries and to stay until at least 6.00 each night. I was used to having the odd Saturday off. I couldn't even have the Saturday off before my annual holidays. My band were playing about three times a week and they'd have to wait for me to finish work before driving off to the venue. I'd change from my work clothes in the van and grab a sandwich and perhaps a short nap. I weighed about 11 stone and was built like a racing snake.
My job title was Trainee Manager. This meant that I did everything from opening the store to unloading the deliveries and packing everything in the warehouse. I also made lists of the stock that had been sold during the day and picked the goods for the female staff to price. I also kept the store neat and tidy and dressed the windows. Every evening we'd face the shelves up, bringing all the stock forward to give the appearance of full shelves. We'd count the stock every week and place and order with head office. This was delivered two days later. Superdrug ran a very very very tight ship. There was no waste anywhere. The cardboard was separated from the rubbish and sent back to the warehouse, where it was baled up and sold for recycling. This was at least twenty years before recycling became fashionable.
We cashed up the tills every day and banked every penny. The cash had to balance to the penny. If it didn't there was an enquiry.
We carried out staff searches at least twice a week. The reasoning was that if the staff expected to be searched then they wouldn't try anything stupid. It mostly worked, although I did catch a saturday girl with a bag full of sweets and no receipt. She lost her job.
We took stock three or four times a year. We didn't have a stocktaking team as that would have cost too much. The area manager would oversee the stocktake and it was conducted like a military exercise. Every staff member had to come in, or stay behind after work to take stock. We never closed, not even for half an hour. During the day we'd count the warehouse and the backup stock and as soon as the door shut we started counting the stock on the shelves. We were only interested in monetary value. One person would count the stock and write the amount on a piece of tally roll, and another would follow along, spot checking and recording the amounts on a master sheet. These were gathered together and tallied up and it was possible to arrive at a provisional stock result within three hours of closing time. Woe betide if you had a bad result.
Superdrug didn't have a training department. They expected their trainees to have had some formal training at their previous jobs. I hadn't. The company estimated that a trainee manager could relieve another branch manager after a few weeks, and be able to manage his own store after three months.
I struggled. Boy did I struggle. I tried to find another job but there was nothing doing. It was 1979 and the country was in a right mess. I had to stick it out.
For all my different jobs, I'd had no experience in management or leadership. I sullenly followed orders and became the area relief manager. I'd travel to the various Superdrug stores within a thirty mile radius to cover the manager's days off and holidays, and I tried to keep a low profile.
Two things kept me sane.
One was my music. I'd formed a top40 group in 1976 after my rock band had folded, and we played the pubs and clubs within a thirty mile radius of Northampton. It was the one constant during all the years that I was with Superdrug.
I'd achieved my ambitions for 1978. New house, new car, new job. I'd married my long term girlfriend in 1977 and we were working hard doing up the house that we'd bought together.
I can't say that I was happy though. We were predictable and safe, like an old married couple.
Then a new chief cashier started at Superdrug. She only stayed for a few months but she changed my life. After she'd left the company the rules about fraternising didn't count and we became friends. After a couple of years we became lovers. We've been married for over twenty five years.
I was a stubborn and slow learner. It took me ages to feel comfortable giving orders. I'd always been one of the workers. I had to learn to be single minded, not to be distracted and have clear objectives. It took a long time.
One defining moment was during a particularly busy time. I was on the shop floor, rushing around trying to restock the fast moving lines. There I was, with my head down, price gun a blur, and my staff standing by watching me. I suddenly realised what I was doing and everything changed in an instant. From now on, they would be the ones with their heads down working, and I would be watching them.
I stayed with Superdrug for nearly six years before moving on. As fate would have it, I was back with them within three years. A lot had gone on in the intervening time.
Looking back I really admire the Goldsteins. They were innovators, pioneers. They were hard but fair. A few years after I'd left Superdrug they offered me a chance to join them on another pioneering retail venture.
I was interviewed by Peter Goldstein at the Northampton branch of Superdrug and he offered me a job. The company was growing, opening new stores almost every week and he made a point of telling me about the opportunities for promotion that existed within the company.
One thing convinced me to join Superdrug.
It wasn't Tesco.
I wasn't prepared for the culture shock when I turned up for work on my first day.
For a start, it was very formal. All the management staff called each other Mr.... No first names.
No fraternising with the staff. Inappropriate behaviour with a female member of staff was a sacking offence. It was like being an officer on a ship of the line.
Then there were the hours of work. The store opened from 9.00 to 5.30. I was expected to start at 7.00 to unload the deliveries and to stay until at least 6.00 each night. I was used to having the odd Saturday off. I couldn't even have the Saturday off before my annual holidays. My band were playing about three times a week and they'd have to wait for me to finish work before driving off to the venue. I'd change from my work clothes in the van and grab a sandwich and perhaps a short nap. I weighed about 11 stone and was built like a racing snake.
My job title was Trainee Manager. This meant that I did everything from opening the store to unloading the deliveries and packing everything in the warehouse. I also made lists of the stock that had been sold during the day and picked the goods for the female staff to price. I also kept the store neat and tidy and dressed the windows. Every evening we'd face the shelves up, bringing all the stock forward to give the appearance of full shelves. We'd count the stock every week and place and order with head office. This was delivered two days later. Superdrug ran a very very very tight ship. There was no waste anywhere. The cardboard was separated from the rubbish and sent back to the warehouse, where it was baled up and sold for recycling. This was at least twenty years before recycling became fashionable.
We cashed up the tills every day and banked every penny. The cash had to balance to the penny. If it didn't there was an enquiry.
We carried out staff searches at least twice a week. The reasoning was that if the staff expected to be searched then they wouldn't try anything stupid. It mostly worked, although I did catch a saturday girl with a bag full of sweets and no receipt. She lost her job.
We took stock three or four times a year. We didn't have a stocktaking team as that would have cost too much. The area manager would oversee the stocktake and it was conducted like a military exercise. Every staff member had to come in, or stay behind after work to take stock. We never closed, not even for half an hour. During the day we'd count the warehouse and the backup stock and as soon as the door shut we started counting the stock on the shelves. We were only interested in monetary value. One person would count the stock and write the amount on a piece of tally roll, and another would follow along, spot checking and recording the amounts on a master sheet. These were gathered together and tallied up and it was possible to arrive at a provisional stock result within three hours of closing time. Woe betide if you had a bad result.
Superdrug didn't have a training department. They expected their trainees to have had some formal training at their previous jobs. I hadn't. The company estimated that a trainee manager could relieve another branch manager after a few weeks, and be able to manage his own store after three months.
I struggled. Boy did I struggle. I tried to find another job but there was nothing doing. It was 1979 and the country was in a right mess. I had to stick it out.
For all my different jobs, I'd had no experience in management or leadership. I sullenly followed orders and became the area relief manager. I'd travel to the various Superdrug stores within a thirty mile radius to cover the manager's days off and holidays, and I tried to keep a low profile.
Two things kept me sane.
One was my music. I'd formed a top40 group in 1976 after my rock band had folded, and we played the pubs and clubs within a thirty mile radius of Northampton. It was the one constant during all the years that I was with Superdrug.
I'd achieved my ambitions for 1978. New house, new car, new job. I'd married my long term girlfriend in 1977 and we were working hard doing up the house that we'd bought together.
I can't say that I was happy though. We were predictable and safe, like an old married couple.
Then a new chief cashier started at Superdrug. She only stayed for a few months but she changed my life. After she'd left the company the rules about fraternising didn't count and we became friends. After a couple of years we became lovers. We've been married for over twenty five years.
I was a stubborn and slow learner. It took me ages to feel comfortable giving orders. I'd always been one of the workers. I had to learn to be single minded, not to be distracted and have clear objectives. It took a long time.
One defining moment was during a particularly busy time. I was on the shop floor, rushing around trying to restock the fast moving lines. There I was, with my head down, price gun a blur, and my staff standing by watching me. I suddenly realised what I was doing and everything changed in an instant. From now on, they would be the ones with their heads down working, and I would be watching them.
I stayed with Superdrug for nearly six years before moving on. As fate would have it, I was back with them within three years. A lot had gone on in the intervening time.
Looking back I really admire the Goldsteins. They were innovators, pioneers. They were hard but fair. A few years after I'd left Superdrug they offered me a chance to join them on another pioneering retail venture.
Monday, 15 March 2010
The birth of ambition
1978 was the year for change. At the start of the year I resolved to do three things: firstly to pass my driving test. I grew up in London and never needed to drive, not when there were three different bus routes and two tube lines within easy walking distance of home. I did get a Honda 50 when I was seeing a girl who lived in Hillingdon. I missed the tube one night and it was a long walk along Western Avenue, more than ten miles before I got a lift. I bought the bike soon afterwards. But even a bike is a bind when you live in a bedsit, so I sold it to my dad.
Living in the suburbs of Northampton was a culture shock. No buses and taxis were prohibitively expensive. I was still in my drinking phase so my girlfriend learned to drive, and our roadie used to pick me and the other guitarist up and take us to Milton Keynes, where we would rehearse and also store our kit.
So passing my test was one priority. The next was to buy our own house. In 1978 the average price for a victorian terraced house in Northampton was about £7000. We opened a savings account and I put all my gig money in it. We saved £500 in a matter of months, found a terraced house in Abington for £7200, got a mortgage and moved in during the autumn.
The third resolution was to get a new job. As a department supervisor I fancied myself as management material, despite my reluctance to impose my will in any situation. I was already considered too old to be a Tesco trainee manager (that's what they told me), so my future lay elsewhere. But where?
I needed a clean driving licence for a start. I'd had a bit of practice driving our car with my wife/girlfriend in the passenger seat, so I could control the car. I need to learn how to pass the driving test. I had five lessons and put in for my test and passed. I don't know who was more surprised, me or my wife. She needed two tests and a lot of lessons.
So that was two down, one to go. I saw an advert in the local paper looking for trainee managers for a drugstore that was opening branches everywhere. I applied and was asked to an interview.
I must have said something right because I was offered a job at a higher rate than I was earning, so I put my notice in at Tesco and prepared to move on.
By this time I was managing the wines and spirits section and I didn't have a clue what to order for the Christmas rush. There were no records and the outgoing manager had had quite enough of Tesco and wasn't going to help.
I disliked the new general manager intensely. He was arrogant and sly. He's stand on the shop floor eating the stock, and would bawl out anyone who even thought of doing the same. The top man at Tesco was Ian Maclauren. When he called in to look around he was the model of courtesy. The same could not be said for his underlings. The regional manager would visit along with the area manager. The regional manager would walk around the store and publicly bollock the area manager if something wasn't to his satisfaction. After he'd gone, the area manager would drag the general manager around the store and publicly bollock him about the same thing. He'd stomp off and the general manager would call the departmental manager over and publicly humiliate him. The the departmental manager would do the same to whoever was nearest.
Why didn't they cut out the middle men and have the Regional manager bawl out the saturday boy, and give us all a break?
Working at Tesco had its compensations, namely the fifty or more checkout girls, plus other female staff scattered around the departments. Getting off with one or more of them was almost compulsory. I did untold damage to my marriage when I worked there, but hey, that's rock 'n roll, right?
I heard from friends that the wines & spirits department sold out of stock in the first week leading up to Christmas and couldn't get any more. Shame. They should treat their staff better.
When I started work at Superdrug in November 1978 I had achieved my ambitions for that year. New job, new house and a driving licence.
What followed was a real culture shock in every way
Living in the suburbs of Northampton was a culture shock. No buses and taxis were prohibitively expensive. I was still in my drinking phase so my girlfriend learned to drive, and our roadie used to pick me and the other guitarist up and take us to Milton Keynes, where we would rehearse and also store our kit.
So passing my test was one priority. The next was to buy our own house. In 1978 the average price for a victorian terraced house in Northampton was about £7000. We opened a savings account and I put all my gig money in it. We saved £500 in a matter of months, found a terraced house in Abington for £7200, got a mortgage and moved in during the autumn.
The third resolution was to get a new job. As a department supervisor I fancied myself as management material, despite my reluctance to impose my will in any situation. I was already considered too old to be a Tesco trainee manager (that's what they told me), so my future lay elsewhere. But where?
I needed a clean driving licence for a start. I'd had a bit of practice driving our car with my wife/girlfriend in the passenger seat, so I could control the car. I need to learn how to pass the driving test. I had five lessons and put in for my test and passed. I don't know who was more surprised, me or my wife. She needed two tests and a lot of lessons.
So that was two down, one to go. I saw an advert in the local paper looking for trainee managers for a drugstore that was opening branches everywhere. I applied and was asked to an interview.
I must have said something right because I was offered a job at a higher rate than I was earning, so I put my notice in at Tesco and prepared to move on.
By this time I was managing the wines and spirits section and I didn't have a clue what to order for the Christmas rush. There were no records and the outgoing manager had had quite enough of Tesco and wasn't going to help.
I disliked the new general manager intensely. He was arrogant and sly. He's stand on the shop floor eating the stock, and would bawl out anyone who even thought of doing the same. The top man at Tesco was Ian Maclauren. When he called in to look around he was the model of courtesy. The same could not be said for his underlings. The regional manager would visit along with the area manager. The regional manager would walk around the store and publicly bollock the area manager if something wasn't to his satisfaction. After he'd gone, the area manager would drag the general manager around the store and publicly bollock him about the same thing. He'd stomp off and the general manager would call the departmental manager over and publicly humiliate him. The the departmental manager would do the same to whoever was nearest.
Why didn't they cut out the middle men and have the Regional manager bawl out the saturday boy, and give us all a break?
Working at Tesco had its compensations, namely the fifty or more checkout girls, plus other female staff scattered around the departments. Getting off with one or more of them was almost compulsory. I did untold damage to my marriage when I worked there, but hey, that's rock 'n roll, right?
I heard from friends that the wines & spirits department sold out of stock in the first week leading up to Christmas and couldn't get any more. Shame. They should treat their staff better.
When I started work at Superdrug in November 1978 I had achieved my ambitions for that year. New job, new house and a driving licence.
What followed was a real culture shock in every way
Saturday, 13 March 2010
Retail but not therapy
I began what is laughably known as a retail career as shelf filler in Tesco's. The store in Weston Favell had been open for about nine months and they were struggling to increase turnover because they couldn't keep the shelves full. The answer was to bring in a dedicated night team to stock the shelves and fill the bins.
I worked four twelve hour shifts and was paid £1 an hour. This was good money for Northampton, where shoe factory wages were about £28 per week. The downside was that the shifts were on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday nights. I never knew what to do on wednesdays. Should I go to bed during the day, or try to stay awake and sleep at night? Whatever I did, I always seemed to arrive for work on Thursday evenings tired out.
The work wasn't too hard. Armed with a price gun and a pen and pad, I'd list the stock that was needed for my section, go into the warehouse, load the stock onto a pallet, drag the pallet onto the shop floor and get pricing. We had to price every item. This was years before EPOS and scanners at the tills.
I stuck at it for about nine months and business boomed as a result of the better availability of stock. I asked for a transfer to the day team and they agreed. I was now a trolly pusher, cardboard clearer and mopper up of spillages. I also worked the tills when it was really busy.
One day the manager called me into his office and asked if I'd like to run the frozen food department. It was underperforming and way behind budget. I said I'd give it a go.
I started by instigating a cleaning rota, and clearing out the dead stock in the backup freezer. Gradually all the rubbish was sold through or disposed of, and I had a clean sheet to work with.
Those of us who are old enough to remember will recall that during the 1970s the nation's favourite frozen dessert was a dairy cream sponge, with arctic rolls and frozen mousses close behind. It may surprise you to know that frozen vegetable prices have hardly changed in more than 30 years and may even be cheaper in some cases. Once the department was organised we were able to push for sales. There was and is no secret to it. Keep the shelves or freezers full or if not, faced up so that they look full. Every Saturday afternoon we'd empty one freezer by rotation into shopping trolleys and store them in the walk in back freezer in the warehouse. We'd switch the freezer off and clean it thoroughly. On Monday morning we'd refill the freezer from the trolleys and top them up again, ready for the week ahead.
We never opened on Sundays. We stayed open until 8.00 on weekdays and 5.30 on Saturdays. You could always guarantee that someone would come into the store at 7.59 to do their month's shopping and someone would have to stay behind to serve them. If we'd have stayed open until 11.00 the same thing would have happened. Now we have 24 hour opening and the stores look the worse for it. The shelves are never full and I can't see the point of going shopping at three in the morning- ever. Get a life for goodness sake!
Surely the point of a successful business is to take as much money as you can in the shortest possible time? There is only so much money in the pot. If you can take it in 80 hours why double your costs and open for 160? The answer is fear.
Fear that your competitor might steal a march on you, might entice a customer to spend his hard earned dosh in their shop rather than in yours. Market share, market share, market share.
Anyway, we beat the target by miles. In April when I took over we were on course to make only half the target during the year. By September we'd equalled the target set for the year and by the end of the year we'd doubled it.
I was pleased. We'd worked very hard and had risen to the challenge. My reward was two fold. New freezers that reduced the stock capacity and which put the stock behind doors, and out of the customer's reach, and secondly, my target had been doubled. It was now four times what had been set the previous year.
It was years before I was motivated enough to try and reach a target. What's the point?
It was now 1977 and I was bored again. And demotivated by an impossible target.
I tranferred to the dairy department. We sold milk, cheese, sausages, pork pies and bloody ski bloody yoghurts.
Ski Yoghurts. We sold a pallet of them every day. Different flavours and every one of them disgusting.
The main challenge on the frozen food department was managing your back up freezer. Order too much stock and it would defrost on the loading bay. Too little and you'd sell out. By Thursday afternoon it was impossible to get another pack of peas into the freezers. The display freezers were chocka and the backup was full to the ceiling from front to back. By Saturday afternoon the backup freezer was empty, which was why we could park half a dozen shopping trolleys in there over the weekend.
Now you'd think that the best way to increase sales would be to enlarge the backup. Wrong.
In the run-up to Christmas the Butchery department would hijack the freezer and fill it with frozen turkeys.
On the dairy department we'd order our requirements daily from the various van salesmen who called. We'd record the deliveries, the stock and work out the sales before placing an order. we had to keep an eye on the "sell by" dates, especially on a Saturday afternoon. If a product was due to go out of date on a Sunday, we'd reduce it in price to clear it. Over the weeks I noticed that certain lines stopped selling. I reluctantly reduced them in price and they'd go in seconds. The customers used to circle like vultures playing a waiting game. Eventually I'd cut my losses and reduce the prices. Some weeks I refused and let the pies and sausages go out of date and be thrown away.
The crunch finally came on Christmas Eve 1977. It was a Saturday and we'd been incredibly busy all week. Unbelievably so. I took a delivery of a pallet of bloody ski bloody yogurts and single and double cream and waited for the onslaught.
It never came. The punters had finished their shopping on Friday night and had all gone into town to buy clothes or go to the footie. We got stung.
1978 was going to be different
Monday, 1 March 2010
Carefree
I left school in 1967 and by 1976 I'd had the following jobs-
Bank clerk
Invoice clerk
Clerical assistant
Storeman
Telesales office worker
Production planner
Factory department manager
I'd also done a little temporary work.
Apart from a week at the bank's training centre,where I learned basic machine skills I'd had no on-the-job training. I was supremely uninterested in any kind of career, especially if it interfered with my music. I was content to drift.
I wasn't irresponsible. I just wasn't going to take any responsibility, which is a different thing altogether. Any leadership or management skills were kept hidden.
I wanted to be liked. This meant that I found it hard to reprimand people.
I once got my drummer a job in the same place where I worked. It was a disaster. There was a conflict of relationship. We were equals in the band, but I was supposed to supervise him at work. It's not a good idea to work with family and friends until you can get that sorted out. Many years later I could do it, but I had a lot of growing up to do.
Then there was the whole fraternising with the female staff thing. I went to a boy's school and was very shy when I started work at the bank. Although the women were only a year or two older, they seemed so much more grown up than me. I never felt like an adult. How's an adult supposed to feel? Different to a schoolboy? I confess that I never felt like an adult until many years later, in my mid-twenties.
Once I'd had my first girlfriend I felt a little more confident, but it wasn't until I was going out with my second girlfriend that I made up for lost time. I treated her terribly. She came back from holiday a couple of days early because she was missing me, only to find that I had a German girl staying in my bedsit (just for a couple of days until she found a place of her own, you understand.)
I've already confessed to a liaison or two with the temporary staff at Olympia. It was the whole sex and drugs and rock n'roll hippy era. I thought that that was how one behaved. You feel guilty but you soon get over it. I was in a rock band. Isn't that how you were supposed to behave?
I left Telfers and food production in 1975 and was unemployed for a couple of weeks. The novelty soon wore off. We never had enough bookings and I was broke. I had to find another job and quick.
I lived near a large shopping centre. There was a large Tesco there and they needed shelf stackers to work nights. I didn't want to stack shelves and I didn't want to work nights, but I did need a job and I did need the money, so I applied and was taken on.
Welcome to the wonderful world of retail. My career for the next eighteen years.
Wednesday, 17 February 2010
Pioneer or settler?
Pioneer or settler? We tend to be one or the other. Most of the previous posts have been more about me than the jobs I've done down the years. I've been looking back on what I did and why I did it, about the choices I made, about my expectations from life.
Most of us look for meaning and identity in our lives. It's a sad fact that many people are indistinguishable from the job they do. If they lose their job, they lose their identity and purpose. If we can't find our identity through our work, then we look for it in other places. How many people do we know who lead double lives? They have their work identity, and a totally different one for the weekends, for their holidays, for their leisure or for their hobby.
I found my identity when working in pioneer mode. Learning new skills, new ventures, breaking new ground, opening new territories. After that, boredom sets in.
I doubt if many people are totally pioneer orientated. We have a little of the settler in us all. We may strike out on our own in search of pastures new, but then we settle down to develop what we've claimed for ourselves.
Looking back, I've always been at my happiest when in pioneer mode. Opening new shops, starting up new factories, developing new concepts, writing staff manuals, training new staff.
I don't know how many new shops I opened during my retail career. At least five as manager, plus others as part of the opening team. I loved the challenge of moving into an empty space and over a week or two seeing the fittings and shelving installed, the staff interviewed and a team put together, the deliveries of stock, the unpacking, checking and stocking the shelves; the training of the staff in the various tasks; the late nights leading up to opening day. The exhilaration of opening day and the sheer hard work needed to overcome the obstacles of getting a new retail outlet bedded in. The variety of the seasons culminating in the frantic pressure of the first Christmas. Sales records set. Then the almost standstill post-christmas when it seems nobody's buying. The re-organisation of the shop layout to improve sales, looking for ways to do things better, quicker, more efficiently. Training your successor and moving on to the next store opening.
I left retail management in 1994 when I was made redundant following a takeover. I'd been with the firm for about five years, eight if you included working for firms that had been absorbed along the way. The industry was changing and I didn't like the way it was going, so I left and never looked back.
Many of today's giant retailers have their roots as market traders. Both Marks & Spencer and Tesco's founders began as barrow boys. Jack Cohen's motto as a barrow boy was "pile it high and sell it cheap", and when he moved from a market stall into his first shop in the 1920s he took his philosophy with him.
The Uk's first supermarket was opened by J Lyons & Co in 1950. When I worked in the sales order office at Henry Telfer's, our offices were just upstairs from the supermarket, just along from Kensington Olympia. Tesco soon followed, opening their first self service shop in St Albans in 1951, and their first supermarket in 1956. Tesco rapidly expanded through a mix of new openings and acquisitions, including a small chain of supermarkets in South London run by Ralph Goldstein. Together with his sons he started up a new venture, a self service drugstore, the first in the UK. They called it Superdrug and they did everything themselves, buying the goods, stocking the shelves and operating the tills. They were pioneers and I worked for them on two of their pioneering ventures, Superdrug and Volume One Bookshops.
Most of us look for meaning and identity in our lives. It's a sad fact that many people are indistinguishable from the job they do. If they lose their job, they lose their identity and purpose. If we can't find our identity through our work, then we look for it in other places. How many people do we know who lead double lives? They have their work identity, and a totally different one for the weekends, for their holidays, for their leisure or for their hobby.
I found my identity when working in pioneer mode. Learning new skills, new ventures, breaking new ground, opening new territories. After that, boredom sets in.
I doubt if many people are totally pioneer orientated. We have a little of the settler in us all. We may strike out on our own in search of pastures new, but then we settle down to develop what we've claimed for ourselves.
Looking back, I've always been at my happiest when in pioneer mode. Opening new shops, starting up new factories, developing new concepts, writing staff manuals, training new staff.
I don't know how many new shops I opened during my retail career. At least five as manager, plus others as part of the opening team. I loved the challenge of moving into an empty space and over a week or two seeing the fittings and shelving installed, the staff interviewed and a team put together, the deliveries of stock, the unpacking, checking and stocking the shelves; the training of the staff in the various tasks; the late nights leading up to opening day. The exhilaration of opening day and the sheer hard work needed to overcome the obstacles of getting a new retail outlet bedded in. The variety of the seasons culminating in the frantic pressure of the first Christmas. Sales records set. Then the almost standstill post-christmas when it seems nobody's buying. The re-organisation of the shop layout to improve sales, looking for ways to do things better, quicker, more efficiently. Training your successor and moving on to the next store opening.
I left retail management in 1994 when I was made redundant following a takeover. I'd been with the firm for about five years, eight if you included working for firms that had been absorbed along the way. The industry was changing and I didn't like the way it was going, so I left and never looked back.
Many of today's giant retailers have their roots as market traders. Both Marks & Spencer and Tesco's founders began as barrow boys. Jack Cohen's motto as a barrow boy was "pile it high and sell it cheap", and when he moved from a market stall into his first shop in the 1920s he took his philosophy with him.
The Uk's first supermarket was opened by J Lyons & Co in 1950. When I worked in the sales order office at Henry Telfer's, our offices were just upstairs from the supermarket, just along from Kensington Olympia. Tesco soon followed, opening their first self service shop in St Albans in 1951, and their first supermarket in 1956. Tesco rapidly expanded through a mix of new openings and acquisitions, including a small chain of supermarkets in South London run by Ralph Goldstein. Together with his sons he started up a new venture, a self service drugstore, the first in the UK. They called it Superdrug and they did everything themselves, buying the goods, stocking the shelves and operating the tills. They were pioneers and I worked for them on two of their pioneering ventures, Superdrug and Volume One Bookshops.
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