Chapter Three: Planning and Staffing

Planning meant discussing the financial set-up with the solicitor, accountant and bank. Bank was first, because without the finance in place nothing else would work. We were already banking with one of the big four banks with the B&B, so it was logical to use them for the hotel. Eastbourne might have a population of over 100,000, but it’s like a village, with a business community scratching each others’ backs. The bank recommended an accountant.

David is a lovely man, but he won’t be embarrassed by identifying in this story, as this wasn’t the best period in his professional life. His advice was spot-on for the most part, and he held hands when required. He recommended the solicitor, who was a real bummer. I met him a long time after, but he always swore he gave us some advice that we failed to act upon. Pam is pretty astute, pays attention just as much as I do if not more, and we are both of the opinion that we were never given the advice to create a partnership agreement. A lot would have transpired in a different way if it had. All water under the bridge, but a lot of money was paid for legal advice that turned out to be rubbish.

If we had entered the partnership advice as he said and failed to act on it, then his duty was to remind us again and suggest during further detailed business discussions that we had failed to act on his advice. He says he only told us once, we know he didn’t. It all comes down to, he said/we didn’t listen.

The way it was set up doesn’t matter now, suffice to say all were very happy to enter the agreement and sign the documents presented in front of them by the respected solicitor.

Staffing could have been a problem, but as it turned out we landed on our feet. We had been active line dancers, and one of the ladies was a particularly good friend. She was a single lady, working in a senior capacity for quite a few years for a national company with a local office, but wanted a change in her life. This story will hide her identity by referring to her by the nickname we were to ultimately give her. Moaner.

We discussed what would be a reasonable salary, and she informed us that she required £25,000 per annum to be our general manager. A grand title for a role that we were to fulfil ourselves, we would have done a lot better by paying two thirds to someone else far more experienced and competent, but we were on a learning curve. The hotel had an annual turnover of £280,000, so we thought the establishment could afford this for reliable and honest assistance. Mark and Deanna had been introduced to Moaner on a previous visit, they were very satisfied with the choice, recognising that help would be needed.

Kitchen staff were also necessary. We were regulars in a lovely privately run Eastbourne hotel, the chef was pretty good but unrecognised by the majority of the customers, as well as management. Their opinion was staff were expendable, especially those originating in Poland, which to an extent was true. If ever any staff were needed, all they had to do was mention it on the Polish grapevine and they were inundated with more than suitable applicants. A private word was had with Anya, the cook, who had been a teacher back home. Her partner was Artur, who had been a graphic designer, was a supremely talented photographer, more than capable of being Anya’s kitchen porter - a glorified washer upper and menial food preparer. He had never done it before, but as a means to earning some money had no problems. Unfortunately his demeanour was often sad, as he hated what he was doing, and he was to be given a nickname as well. Ee-aw, the donkey. We never knew what his mood would be when he reported for work each morning. However, when he covered for Anya, what he prepared was superb.

A housekeeper was also required, word was put about, and Sheila (not her real name, but sufficiently close) applied. She was a very pretty lady in her mid twenties, who knew if she was any good at cleaning, but she came recommended, which was sufficient for us. We had to have someone, after all.

She was to be the only initial housekeeper, our plan was to engage someone extra as and when required. Moaner and Pam covered Anya’s day off, we also took on Baby Artur, another Pole who was fabulous. We only called him ‘baby’ because he was younger and smaller than the other Artur. Happy to be adaptable, he could cover the bar, night porter, waiting at table, kitchen assistant, the only thing he didn’t do was clean the rooms. He was also something of a handyman, so if maintenance was required, then we got him to do it.

Mark and Deanna came over early December, plans were in place, all we needed was for the legalities to be completed. The owners wanted to sell, we wanted to buy, but the lawyers decided to take three weeks off for the Christmas and New Year break. It’s not until you experience these frustrations that you fully appreciate the frailties of the system. Each legal office blames the other. One wants to ask extra questions, the other then has to inform their client. The information goes back and forth, inventories have to be completed, which bear no relation to what is handed over. How many chairs in the lounge. How many single beds. What rooms have televisions. They all do of course, what a dumb question, it’s not us doing the asking, but the information still has to be shared, it’s all part of the process of them justifying their money. I had told my solicitor that part of our agreement was he was doing all of this for a fixed fee, so he would also act for us in the sale of the B&B. However long he took, there would be no extra coming across, so if I hadn’t tied him to this then who knows how long it would have taken.

January was spent in a long month of frustration, then we moved in the first Friday of February.

***

We woke early, excited, on an early February morning. We were going to buy The Sheldon Hotel in Eastbourne. Today. A 28 bedroom hotel, own car park, detached, prestige establishment, maybe in need of some TLC, but still pretty good. And it was going to be ours. Well, not strictly ours, half would be owned by our business partner and his wife, but the majority would be owned by NatWest Bank. But one day it would all be ours.

Before we could take possession, with the assistance of those lovely people who would be lending us the money, there was something mundane for me to do. Pass an exam.

If you want to sell alcohol to the public in the UK, you have to have a licence. To obtain this piece of paper, you have to place forty correct ticks onto an idiot proof sheet of paper. There are four potential answers to each of the forty questions, each option is for simpletons to get wrong, and the pass requirement is thirty five correct. You have to prove your competence to know the law to serve alcohol in any questionable situations, such as the four options to one question. The question is this:

  1. Ask for his ID
  2. Refuse to serve him
  3. Look for his parents
  4. Ask him if he wants water and ice with it

Okay, I may have exaggerated somewhat, but you get the picture. Anyone with less than a full score sheet doesn’t deserve to be in the business in the first place. But if I didn’t pass, then I would not be allowed to open the bar that night, and have to wait another month before re-sitting. No pressure then.

I sat the exam at 9am, exiting at 9:45am. Relieved, I drove back to where I was living, then waited for the phone call to say we could move in. Within ten minutes, no anxious wait, it was ours.

The man who sold to us was something of a taciturn man, stout of stature, building background, tall, with a very attractive wife with a long pedigree of local family hotel ownership. He wasn’t too keen on me, because when negotiating everything, I had insisted that a clause was inserted whereby they couldn’t own a hotel within two years and ten miles of our present location. This didn’t suit his business plans, but I was aware of history.

We were given the half hour tour, handed over the keys, and that was it.

Let me try to recount some of the conversation as Pam and I followed him around.

‘This is the electrical cupboard for the left side of the building, lower floors. It’s an outside cupboard, alongside the lift, you can see that the power supply is on. If there is an interruption, it cuts out. The power, that is. You come to this cupboard, flip this trip switch up, and bingo, there’s light again. The lift has a maintenance contract with Thyssen Krupp, pay the bills and they’ll never have to come out.’

‘Upstairs, on the first floor landing, is another cupboard. This also has a board with switches. All the lights go out on two floors on this side of the building, stick your head in this cupboard, flip the switch.’

‘On the right side, whatever you do, don’t let the electricity supply be interrupted. That’s because, despite the fact that there’s a switch board, you’ll never get into it. Go on, open this door. See it there. It’s on the far wall. Now try and get inside the cupboard. You can’t, can you? I certainly can’t, and I’m a lot bigger than you. But there’s a broom handle just here. Grab hold of it, that’s right, point it at the far wall. No, don’t touch the wires, despite the handle being made of wood, you might, just might, make it go bang. Better call in someone to fix it. But only as long as they are small, like a young woman. A child would be better.’

‘Now we are on the top floor landing. Here’s the last power cupboard. That’s right, you’ll need a torch, so make sure you always have one handy. Never know when you’ll need one.’

‘Here’s the keys, enjoy owning The Sheldon. By the way, you’ve got fourteen dinners for tonight, and we haven’t taken their orders.’

‘Oh yes, and when it rains really heavy, make sure that the basement doors are closed nice and tight, ’cause the rain gets in.’

Many years later Pam and I were on a cruise. We were walking through the bar on the way to dinner on the first night and heard this man and his wife talking loudly over drinks with their company. What a coincidence. We had maintained the infrequent acquaintance over the years, saying hello when meeting socially in Eastbourne, so after the initial hotel purchase were still sufficiently friendly to have the occasional chat.

So that was it. 10:30am Friday in February, and we were in possession. Rooms to check, dinners to prepare, and a party to organise.