Hot Shop

I knew all five partners and they knew me. What were offering me was temporary employment for a minimum of one year, minus a day, and a commercial rent of my shop for me to work in, until they established the business. If the business idea worked I would become a permanent employee AND a member of the company board -- a full partner. If it didn't, I would be unemployed again and all five of them would probably join me at the Job Centre, considerably poorer than they are now. It was a risk but a calculated risk made by people who understood risk very well. Was I interested?

Ralph's explanation had been sufficiently clear so that I understood the risk too. They wanted me not just for the shop and the location but for my specific experience in finance. If it worked I would be earning more than I had ever expected in finance, and I would be a substantial shareholder in a developing business. Compared with working in a hot and sweaty shop the offer was irresistible. I agreed within minutes.

Over the rest of the meal we talked about what would happen now. Ralph wanted to see my disused shop and talk about adaptations to turn it into a basic financial services office. At first all they would need would be a desk for me, a landline and fast internet. Eventually I would need a secretary, a front office, and somewhere for the company board of six or seven including the secretary to meet. A disabled toilet would be useful. One of the five was temporarily in a wheelchair. Could Ralph look at the space tomorrow, Sunday?

I explained that I was working from nine-thirty in the morning until four-thirty and then had an evening appointment. Would eight o'clock in the morning be suitable? Ralph was staying overnight in the hotel which was only four hundred yards from my house/shop.

Ralph would check by email tonight with the other four. If he had replies by the morning he suggested that I could start working with them, and paid by them, in a week's time on the Monday. It wouldn't matter at first if I was using my own landline and internet until the company was established.

As we sat back in the bar after the meal Ralph admitted that the whole project had depended on me and my shop front. If I hadn't agreed they would have had to rethink the whole. Most of my former colleagues were back in the finance industry but dispersed around the world in places such as Hong Kong, Dubai and Singapore. Those still in London were established enough not to want to risk joining a new experimental business. Not only did I have skills the new company needed and hadn't got, but a place where they could be based, and I was in a rubbish job that I wouldn't regret risking.

It didn't seem much of a risk for me. I would get out of my stupid uniform and out of that sweatbox of a shop. My lower floor at home would be cooler even without modification. Decades ago it had been a butcher's shop and traditionally all butchers' shop windows face north to avoid sun on the displayed meat. The butcher's fittings had been ripped out by subsequent owners. Its last business use had been a florist that had moved to better premises five years ago.

+++

At eight o'clock on Sunday morning I was standing outside my house as Ralph drove up in his top of the range Jaguar. I gestured for him to park on my frontage. He reversed in and climbed out of his car.

"Parking, Malcolm?" He asked. "How much have you got?"

"As you can see," I said, "We can park four cars out here and I have space for another three around the side. I could make even more spaces if I sacrificed some of my grotty garden."

"Wow. That's really useful. On street parking near here is awkward, isn't it?"

"Yes, Ralph. This road is a route for several buses. You can see the double yellow lines across my frontage. Even the side road is a bus route with double yellow lines along the length of my garden. So anyone parked on my property won't be blocked in by parked cars. Shall we go in?"

I opened what had been the shop's double front door. It had level access and would be easy to get a wheelchair through. What had been the large shop windows had full-length net curtains to give me some privacy.

We walked in. The main shop area was completely empty. There was a wide corridor leading to the back. Next to the side road were a small office, a bathroom with toilet and a separate toilet. There was a door in the small office that led to the hall and stairs to my flat above. At the rear on that side was a small basic kitchen. On the other side was a large room that had originally been the cold store. It now had a window looking out over the garden. At the end of the corridor was another wide double door leading out to the garden. That had a concrete ramp with a gentle slope, again easy for wheelchair access for anyone parked at the back.

The paintwork was shabby but sound. The whole area was free of any furniture or fittings except in the bathroom, toilet and kitchen. I knew everything worked. I had camped out down here while I and the builders were working on the upstairs flat.

"This is better than I expected, Malcolm," Ralph said as we walked back into the main shop area. "The large room could be the board room. You could be based in the office and the shop could look great as a reception area. Some prestige furniture with a few pot plants and it could be featured in publicity. No one would know it is an old shop in a grotty area."

"Thank you for the grotty comment, Ralph. The estate agents refer to this part as 'undergoing gentrification'. Public transport to the City is fast and frequent. The nearest Underground station is five minutes' walk. Some of the buses run to the City and others to major rail stations."

"Sorry, Malcolm. Gentrification seems a few years away. There are too many charity and second hand shops nearby."

"I know. The estate agents are overstating the reality. But it was a bargain when I bought it. I couldn't afford it on a shop manager's salary."

"You won't have to. All the other four have agreed. If you have a printer available I'll print out your job offer now."

"Not down here, but I have upstairs."

We went up to my flat. Ralph was impressed by the size and condition of it. Everything up here had been repaired, renovated and improved. I was proud of my kitchen. It was large enough to be a family room and at present it was my office for any work I needed to do for the shop. Within minutes Ralph had accessed his document file and had printed off two copies of my temporary job offer. He signed them both and handed them to me. I signed to accept the job offer and gave one copy back to him. In a week's time I would be back in Finance but based at home.

I asked Ralph to wait while I added dates to my draft resignation letter to the brothers. I emailed the completed version before I printed it off, signed it and put it in an envelope addressed to the brothers at the shop they used as their business base.

"If you are going that way, could you drop this off for me, Ralph, please? My current contract has a week's notice on either side. If it's delivered today I will stop working for them at the end of next Sunday's shift, and start with you on the Monday."

Ralph looked at the address.

"No problem, Malcolm. I'd have to pass there on the way home. I'll get a written acknowledgement of receipt."

"And I have to get to the shop in the next twenty minutes, Ralph."

+++

Just after Ralph had left I received an email from the brothers. I hit print and grabbed the printout as I walked out of my door into the already warm sunshine. I stuffed the printout into my jacket pocket. I wouldn't have time to read it until the shop was open to customers.

By noon the shop was stifling hot. One of the youngsters was very relieved to be going off shift before the hottest part of the day. She was replaced by Muriel, the older slightly overweight woman. Within ten minutes her uniform dress was stained with sweat in the armpits. In half an hour the back of Muriel's dress was damp-stained.

About half past two we had no customers. I pulled out the printed email and read it. I smiled after the first couple of sentences and laughed out loud half way down.

"What is it, Malcolm?" Muriel asked.

"It's an email from the brothers in response to mine complaining about the heat in this shop and the stupid uniforms."

"You've complained again? You were nearly fired last time. We appreciate your concern but is our comfort worth your job? You'll get fired, we'll lose a friend and we'll still have to sweat."

"They tell me I'm a great manager, good at my job, but I complain too much. They have given me a final warning and add that I will get a bad reference if I resign."

"They can't do that, Malcolm. You're a great manager."

"They can't. It's against employment law. This email would be enough for me to win a case for constructive dismissal at an Industrial Tribunal. But it doesn't matter now. Since I sent my email things have changed. I'm sorry, Muriel, but I'm leaving. I have a new job starting next Monday. The brothers got my resignation letter this morning. They'll start panicking."

"Is the job any better? And how about the shitty reference they'll give you?"

"Better? Much better. I'm going back into finance. My tax bill will be more than my annual pay here. The reference? I'm already appointed because my new employers have known me for years. They won't ask the brothers for a reference."

"Congratulations, Malcolm. You deserve it. You've worked like a Trojan for the Mohans, supported your assistants, and made good profits for the company. And they have treated you and us like shit. I'm jealous of Chloe. She's escaped. And now you have too. All you need now?" Muriel stopped.

I looked at her. She grinned and waited for me to ask the question.

"What do I need, Muriel?

"You know. You need Chloe. She needs you. You two are in love. You have been trying to hide it from us and from each other."

Muriel kissed me on my sweaty cheek.

"Go on! Grab Chloe and kiss her properly."

"I will, Muriel, thank you. We're meeting tonight when I'm clean and cool."

"I wish I was, Malcolm. Only an hour or so until the shop shuts. When it's as hot as this an hour seems unending."

There was a squeal of brakes outside and the elder Mohan brother banged his way through the shop door. Muriel saw him coming and retreated to the back of the shop to do some shelf filling.

Mr Mohan waved a sheet of paper angrily. I assume it was my resignation letter.

"What the fuck is this, Malcolm?" He shouted.

"I assume it's my letter of resignation," I replied quietly.

He ripped it to pieces and threw it in the air.

"You can't! You haven't!"

"You're too late, Mr Mohan. There is a receipt for its delivery and you have had it by email. My resignation stands despite tearing up that copy."

"You won't get a reference!" He shouted.

"You're too late again. I have a new position and my new employers didn't need a reference from you. They know me from my previous job."

"All because of fucking uniforms!"

"Not wholly true, Mr Mohan. The uniforms were the last straw. You haven't taken any notice of my concerns for the staff or the customers. You have threatened me with dismissal and a poor reference for giving you good advice. Even after I've left you should do something about the uniforms and the heat in this shop -- or you won't have any staff here at all."

"Is that a threat?" Mr Mohan shouted again.

"No. It's the reality. I have had to persuade people to keep working in the heat. They knew I had written to you repeatedly and they hoped things would change. Once I've gone? They have no hope that you or your brother will change the uniform or deal with the heat in the shop. That could lead to them looking for other work elsewhere. Like me, they are all on a week's notice. In two weeks' time if this heat wave continues you might have no staff here at all."

Mr Mohan listened to my speech with obvious impatience.

"I don't believe you."

Muriel came towards us from the back of the shop.

"You should, Mr Mohan. It's the truth. And to show how much the staff value Malcolm and how little they trust you..."

Muriel held up a sheaf of paper.

"...four of us wrote our letters of resignation after Chloe left. We had decided to wait to see whether her departure made a difference. It hasn't. I've just checked by text with the other three. We resign and give you a week's notice."

Muriel pushed the letters into Mr Mohan's hand before walking away. The letters shook as Mr Mohan waved them in my face.

"This is your doing! You'll hear from our lawyers!" He shouted.

"Mr Mohan. Calm down. Your lawyers would be a waste of money. All the staff have legal cover for employment disputes, a joint policy paid for by me. My cover will expire thirty days after I leave but I'm also covered by my professional body, and by my new employers. You'd lose thousands of pounds and any court case. An Industrial Tribunal would cost you tens of thousands. Your temporary contracts aren't temporary, they're illegal. You would be better spending a few hundred on air conditioning and new uniforms as I kept telling you. Do that and you'll keep your staff. Give them better employment terms and you'll have more commitment."

Mr Mohan slumped against the cash desk. He fanned his face with the resignation letters.

"Malcolm's right!" Muriel shouted from the back of the shop. "The contracts don't matter as much as the heat and the uniforms. We're losing customers because the shop is too hot. We're losing stock because the shop is too hot. And for what? Lack of a cheap air conditioning unit. Buy one or two and solve our problems. That's what Malcolm has been telling you and you wouldn't fucking listen!"

I had never heard Muriel swear before.

Mr Mohan looked at me. His face was covered in sweat.

"Is she right?" He asked quietly.

"You know she is. You can feel the heat yourself and you're wearing a lightweight suit, not a heavy nylon uniform. You could work in this shop for the whole of a hot day to confirm what you already know. The heat in this shop is intolerable. I've stood it for more than two summers. Muriel has endured it for six."

"So what do I do?"

"I've told you before... Install air conditioning, change the uniform to lighter breathable materials and give the staff better employment terms. You could close the shop for a week from next Monday and have the air conditioning operational within days. If you are willing to pay a little more, the air conditioning could be installed in the evenings when the shop is shut. The uniform?"

I reached under the counter and produced a brochure from a uniform retailer. There was a piece of paper in the appropriate page. I showed it to him.

"That's what the staff would like to wear if they could. They can add or remove layers to adapt to the ambient temperature and each uniform is ten per cent cheaper than the current one."

"But we'd have to pay hundreds!"

"Your choice. Pay hundreds or lose the staff and close the shop. As a percentage of your annual profits from this shop alone it's nothing."

At that point a couple of regular customers walked into the shop. Mr Mohan took out a handkerchief and wiped his face. He walked out into the street as I rang up the customers' purchases. He heard them comment about the heat in the shop.

After they left Mr Mohan came back in.

"OK, Malcolm. You win. We'll install air conditioning and the change the uniform. Will you withdraw your resignation?"

"The air conditioning and uniforms are good, but you don't get it, do you, Mr Mohan? My new job pays five times what you pay me, even more than I was earning before I was made redundant. You can't afford me. In reality you never could. If I'd waited a few months I could have got another job in finance, perhaps in New York or Hong Kong. I'm going back to that high powered business, this time as a company partner. But the changes might persuade Muriel and the others to continue. You'll still need a new manager to replace me."

"So what do I do, Malcolm?" Mr Mohan asked, still holding the four resignation letters.

"First? You talk to Muriel. She's your most senior remaining person. Tell her you're putting in air conditioning and changing the uniforms, and those resignations will probably be cancelled. Talk to her."

He nodded.

"Muriel!" I called to her. "Mr Mohan wants to talk to you."

She came from the back of the shop very reluctantly.

"Muriel, I've agreed to install air conditioning and change the uniforms to the ones Malcolm suggested. Would that make a difference to these resignations?"

Muriel grabbed the letters out of his hand, tore them up, and dropped them in the waste bin beside the till.

"Yes," she said unnecessarily. "But you still need a manager and another full time staff person."

"Could you work full-time, Muriel?"

"Me? No. When I'm not in the shop I'm looking after my school age grandchildren while their mother is at work. Chloe would be a good manager but she left for worse pay than even you paid. Ask Malcolm about her."

Mr Mohan turned to me.

"Chloe left because of the heat and the uniform. She now has travel costs that take a chunk out of her pay. If you had agreed to install air con and the different uniforms, she'd still be here."

"Offer her the manager's job," Muriel said, "and Chloe will be back. She liked being here. We like her. Malcolm? Malcolm loves her but since he won't be here that's not a problem."

"How do I contact her?" Mr Mohan asked.

"Easy. You've still got her email and mobile numbers."

I wrote them both down on a sheet of paper.

"But if I were you I'd move fast. If the other shop realises how good she is they'll promote her. That's unlikely after a bare week but if you wait..."

"OK, OK. I get the message. I'll offer her the manager's job by email."

"Today?" I asked.

"Today. As soon as I get back to the office."

"Mr Mohan. Malcolm is still your manager this week." Muriel said. "Why not ask him to sort out the air conditioning and the new uniforms?"

"Malcolm? Can you?"

"Yes. If you are prepared to pay six hundred and fifty pounds for the air conditioning it will be working by Thursday morning. The uniforms? For the existing staff that would cost another two hundred and could be here by Tuesday."

Mr Mohan's shoulders slumped. The brothers hate spending money. He looked at Muriel and I.

"OK, Malcolm. Do it. We'll pay."

"One last thing, Mr Mohan, and I'll leave you in peace," Muriel said. "If and when Chloe is the manager, please listen to her suggestions. You could have avoided all this if you'd listened to Malcolm."

Muriel stomped off towards the store room. She was still angry.

"Muriel has reminded me of one suggestion I was reluctant to make, Mr Mohan. Now I'm leaving it doesn't matter that you won't like it. You have expanded your stores successfully and are making a profit but your staff management is poor and as I said earlier, your temporary contracts are illegal. Any employment dispute would prove that they are in fact permanent and you have evaded your responsibilities to permanent staff. That could be very costly in fines and compensation. My suggestion is that you use a personnel management company to look after your staff matters. You have over a hundred people and no one who understands employment legislation. That is dangerous and could wreck your business if things go wrong. They nearly did in this shop. Any one of the staff could have complained that the heat breached the shops and factories acts..."

"I'll think about it."

"I would do more than think about it. Talk to your brother. Talk to possible personnel management companies. The risk you are taking every day is enormous. It could bankrupt you both. My concern is more with your staff. They would lose their jobs and they need them. You could lose your business, your houses, your cars... everything. It is a real danger."