Tag Archives: Coaching

The Business of Life – Chapter 44 Postscript II finding that elusive balance

 There are few phrases that have crept into the lexicon of life in the 21st Century that annoy me more than ‘Work-Life Balance’.  I believe it to be simply inane, socialist dogma to imply that work is somehow anything other than an integral component of a healthy life.  It would be equally inane to refer to a ‘Home-Life Balance’.  Work gives us an identity that for the majority of us defines what we do.  Yes, I also subscribe to the concept of multiple identities; after all I am also amongst other things a husband, a father, a cyclist, a volunteer mentor and an aspiring writer.  But when I worked, it was my work role that provided the answer to the invariable question at parties, “What do you do?”

Finding the elusive balance

The phrase and the concept that makes sense is ‘Whole-Life Balance’, which at least recognises there are multiple aspects of our life in which we seek or should attempt an equitable balance.  Nevertheless, this state of balance is an elusive and frequently ephemeral state to achieve and there is little room for compromise if you really wish to succeed.  There are too many variables, too many uncontrollable factors that do not cease to be demanding and which conspire to upset this delicate state of equilibrium.  Yes, I learnt to fight back against the petty aspects of work pressure when I could but competition does not sleep and creditors, the Government and the economy certainly don’t.

It’s strange that we can accept that the great sportsmen and women, the politicians and the artists and stars we admire so much make massive sacrifices to succeed in their chosen careers.  But do we ask, do we require, do we care if they strive to achieve this so-called balance in their lives?  How many Olympic medal winners do we hear being chided for not spending more time at home?  And yet we make so little allowance for those in everyday life when they strive to succeed in their chosen careers.  It’s true that the family can enjoy the lifestyle that comes with the salary the breadwinner brings home.  But is he or she not worthy of the same respect as our sporting heroes when they make the necessary sacrifices to succeed?

 I am a happy and a satisfied third-ager precisely because I have achieved a state of self actualisation.  Apart from an ever growing bunch of people doing their best to destroy this wonderful world we live in, I am genuinely happy with my life.  I could claim that the end justified the means.  Nevertheless, I certainly cannot claim it was either easy to achieve this state or to strike that elusive state of balance for more than a matter of weeks at a time.  Nor can I claim that it must have been easy for my family (but I’ll return to that shortly).  To achieve one big goal in life requires dedication, commitment and the subordination of all other roles and goals.

That I was never a successful sportsman may be down to a combination of my physique (now was that nature or nurture..?) and my lack of early exposure to the joys of ball games.  But I was certainly as driven as many a sportsperson.  That drive came as much from a fear of failure as it did a need to achieve.  When I was fired from Akai I was, one could say, a victim of my character.  It was an intense sense of failure that overcame me and then drove me on to succeed.  But it was the same set of behavioural preferences that had driven me to that situation in the first place.

For those initial twenty years I had one success after another.  I really believed that I had got the magic formula.  Not only had I believed that being very good at what I did would be enough to maintain my career momentum, I had always used my ability to present my case logically and rationally (but rather like a battering ram).  The problem was that I had no political skills to bring to bear and I wore my negotiating position on my sleeve.  When you’re being confronted with the choice of being burnt or scalded neither is easily preferable.  If the choice is actually being burnt today and scalded tomorrow, then my tendency was to enter the fight straight away.  With the benefit of hindsight, I could never have won the battle at Akai because I was working for a company that ultimately had to fail because it simply didn’t have the resources to succeed.

However, ten years later I was still making some of the same mistakes when I realised that the company I worked for did not have the strategy to succeed in reaching its stated goal.  I was right in my view (as history has again proved) but I still lacked the political skills either to convince others or to survive.  Anyway, by this time I was probably seen as a threat and was fighting a whole layer of senior management wedded to preserving a status quo that was doomed.  Should I have worked on my political skills instead of the full frontal, bare-knuckle approach?  I don’t believe so for two reasons.  The first is that being Machiavellian is beyond my natural style of behaviour, it’s simply not within my skill set.  The other reason was that having seen the future and the people my future would depend upon, I just didn’t like it or them.

It took just a couple of years more to realise that corporate life was not offering me the chance to play to my particular skill set.  If you are in the wrong company, in the wrong industry, with skills that are not recognised then life is going to be really tough.  More so if you are the one telling the emperor that he has forgotten his clothes.  I really think that in such circumstances you should think about doing your own thing – building or buying your own train set.  The constant stresses and strains of having to do battle within your own company, in addition to the real work of satisfying the market and battling competition and the economy, are debilitating.  They were for me and they were for my family.

If fear of failure drove me on, it never soured my enjoyment of the here and now and it never stopped me taking what some might call unacceptable risks.  Freed of the political constraints and frustrations of corporate life, I decided to take the king’s shilling of venture capital.  To do so meant investing my life’s savings alongside the millions from a VC and the banks.  It didn’t worry me as I felt I was really in control for the first time and dependent upon my own judgement.  I made a rule however that I would never give a personal guarantee to a bank.  The essence of the concept of limited liability is destroyed by providing some faceless, business-illiterate bankers with the ability to claw back your home if it all goes wrong.  If my life savings weren’t enough risk money, then they weren’t for me.  And I never had to give that guarantee.  In that sense I wasn’t prepared to jeopardise the balance between my aspirations and the roof over my family’s head.  In the event, two out of three ventures were successes and that was just fine.

When my dear late wife became pregnant with our daughter we agreed that she would put her career as a nurse on hold and become a full time mother.  It was her suggestion it and I thought it natural to agree.  Just as I thought it natural that I should do whatever it took to replace the money she had been earning.  It took a great deal of hard work and a toll on my health but I can’t recall that she ever complained that I had the balance wrong.  And when the time came and she wanted to return to her career, I supported that decision.  My daughter and my son might feel that I wasn’t around enough or that I wasn’t there when they needed me.  I don’t know.  A Dutch colleague once said to me that in Holland they have a saying that for the first seven years the child belongs to the mother, for the second to the father and for the next seven years for both together.  I do know that I wasn’t around as much as I might have been for my seven years and sadly, Jean wasn’t permitted to share the next and subsequent phases with me.

I now realise that for many years I was someone who made decisions solely on the basis of facts, logic, my reading of the future and the implications for my course of action.  This approach certainly gave me the advantage of having an uncluttered and largely rational approach.  Business decisions were made never pausing to consider others’ feelings and emotions but focussing on what was required to achieve the result.  It came as little surprise when in a group activity during a course in the US, I was described by colleagues as ‘remote and unreadable at times’.  My response at the time was to see this as something of an accolade.  Subsequently, I made efforts to try to include the human aspects in my decision making but most times defaulted to my natural style.

However, following the appallingly early death of Jean, something changed in me.  I cried for the first time at sad films and passages in books and even music could have the same effect.  What Myers Briggs call the ‘shadow side’ of my personality, the undeveloped natural senses, were seeing the light of day for the first time.  I don’t believe that I lost my natural, behavioural preferences but now make a real effort to understand the feelings and perspectives of others.  I would find it hard to describe a business situation where I would make a decision based solely on feelings and emotions.  However, seeking out and being aware of the human reactions and implications of a course of action has made me a more balanced leader.

My career was extremely stressful at times but on balance (that wonderful word again) I absolutely enjoyed it and cannot imagine what else I might have done.  I can only hope that Victoria and Alex have as much fun and gain as much satisfaction and self-actualisation from their lives as I have done.

Do I have regrets?  Or remorse?  I have often pondered what I consider to have been a grave error of judgement (spelt out in Chapter 22) when I claimed to have been aware of a major problem but when in reality I had been blissfully ignorant.  My misjudgement stemmed from a desire to conceal that I had been unaware of something (a stock loss) that I should have known about (even though it had been concealed from me).  If I had claimed the truth I might have come out on top for the subsequent battle for a bigger UK role.  However, had this happened, I would certainly have not been moved to Switzerland a few months later.  I cannot speculate if my career would have been better but I know that I would have missed the pan-European role and invaluable (but painful) experiences in Geneva plus the trigger to pitch for venture capital.

Certainly I made other mistakes for which I feel remorse and can still vividly bring to mind situations where my inability to see consequences from another’s point of view caused pain.  These were not situations where I stood to achieve gain from another’s loss but just where my lack of an ability at the time to see the world through others’ eyes made me thoughtless and careless in my attitudes towards others.

For many years I regretted (and felt less of myself as a result of) my lack of a university degree.  What I might have studied I really cannot speculate, although I was being pushed towards art.  I am sure that this would have been a mistake as I probably wouldn’t have been ready for the rigours of studying at university in my late teens and it could so easily have been a wasted experience.  Instead I had the pleasure of continuing to learn throughout life.  I am not an expert in any field (to my regret at times) but a mercurial mind has provided me with the inclination to delve into many and varied subjects.

I now consider that I was fortunate I missed out on university.  This might sound strange but it ensured that I was always focussed on learning whatever I needed to progress.  There were times when I thought I knew it all but the mistakes I made always spurred me on afresh with the learning.  Throughout my career I often found myself surrounded by people who seemed to have left the process of learning behind when they passed through the gates of their university for the last time.  Overtaking these people was therefore never too much of a problem.  So, even with the best degree (or two) there is always so much more to learn (and no more so than in business).

So, for all of you who have followed my writing to this point, I wish you health, happiness and all the satisfaction in your careers that I have had from my own.

I have the feeling that life has a few more challenges left in store.

The Business of Life Chapter 43 – Postscript (part 1)

It’s been almost two years since I sold up and retired.  The transition from hectic business life to retirement has taken more adjustment than I could have envisaged.  I hadn’t ever spent any real time imagining what life would be like when business ceased but the reality has taken me somewhat by surprise.

The Business of Life - Postscript (1) The euphoria lasted some weeks – a month or so.  I saw more of family and friends and that was very satisfying.  And a few health problems intervened to take and shine off things.  But very soon I started to get that old, nagging sensation that I needed a challenge.  I started a number of new activities before the world of blogging began to draw me in.  I had always enjoyed writing, even starting the great novel about twenty years ago (it still languishes unfinished enjoying a quiet life on a succession of hard drives).  The one thing I had intended when I did stop work was that I would write and had promised myself I would finish the novel.

 However, it was business thoughts and anecdotes that got me started with ‘The Retrospective Entrepreneur’ blog and it wasn’t long before I realised that I had the material for the book I wanted to write.  It was researching the life and times of my paternal grandfather that made me realise that there was a side to my life that had remained largely unknown to my family and certainly would to my granddaughters.  So, I started to write ‘The Business of Life’ and that has enabled at least many of the facts to be recorded along with all those anecdotes.  But now the tale has been concluded, I have realised that it still shines a light only on a part of my business life.

 Looking back I can see that what I have written leaves many aspect of the real me unrevealed.  Trying to strike a balance between the business and the personal aspects in a way that would satisfy all possible readers was a worthy enough aim.  But what was it that really drove me on?  What emotions and beliefs underpinned the decisions I made?  Did I really consider the consequences that the choices I made would have on my family?  Are there things I could or should have done differently?  And yes, are there regrets?

 So now I’m going to take another look back to try and answer these and other questions.

The issue of nature versus nurture has occupied psychologists and sociologists and a great many others for many years.  As the continued unravelling of the secrets of DNA accelerates and a backlash against politically correct thinking occurs, I expect we may find a definitive answer in my lifetime.  But what of myself?  Did the factors that drove me on and enabled me to succeed come from my genes or from my environment?  And does it matter?

The children of first generation Irish-Italian immigrant families, my elder sister and I had few advantages.  Our father was a cabinet maker and mum was a seamstress and we lived in what today would be viewed as absolute poverty.  But we both passed the 11 Plus and both went to grammar school, something comparatively rare in our neighbourhood.  Our families comprised solely of manual workers with the exception of an uncle who did well enough as a minor civil servant and a cousin who rose to run a major insurance company.  However, these were relatives I saw but rarely, therefore I don’t believe anything rubbed off there.  So if my sister and I had the odd extra grey cell or used what we had a little more efficiently, it might well have been something nature caused to trickle down through the gene pool.

 Apart from my father ensuring I was encouraged to discover for myself the world that books revealed, there was another aspect of my upbringing that must have had an effect upon me.  In our neighbourhood (like so many others at the time) kids played out in the streets, communal gardens and little parks at all hours.  But not my sister and I.  My parents resolutely refused to let us join in informing us that we were “better than that lot.”  Finally, at age 13 I had become big enough and determined enough that they couldn’t control me any longer and I took my place in the local pack.  After an early event that could so easily have brought me onto the wrong side of the law, I learnt to pick my new friends with more care.

 Only one friend from my neighbourhood remained as I entered my twenties.  It wasn’t a conscious decision, there just wasn’t a sufficient range of common interests to bind us together and so we drifted apart.  One effect of my enforced solitude I am (and certainly was at the time) acutely aware of was a lack of social skills.  At least I now know that to be the case.  At the time I was always the quiet outsider who never initiated a conversation or any activity.  I remember railing late into the night to my sister, on more than one occasion that I hated small talk and only wished to discuss things that really mattered.  I can only assume that the many years of pre-teenage solitude robbed me of the chance to acquire some form of social skill.

 Over the next few years my interests diverged from the local lads as I discovered I had no interest in football (one visit to watch Millwall play saw to that) or cricket and rugby and, instead, joined a weight training club and developed a taste for jazz, blues, folk and classical music.  When I entered the world of work, aged fifteen, the ties with my erstwhile friends fell away (with one exception, Mike, until his untimely early death).

I hated authority with an intensity that has stayed with me to the present day.  This was not helped by the beating regime at my school.  I was never that distressed by the regular canings I received from the sadist that passed for our headmaster (Brother Peter – a nice religious man) as I probably deserved them.  But when I was beaten for fighting back against the school bully, that did it for me and authority.  Even though my tormentor was absolved of wrongdoing, I did have the satisfaction of knowing that he had been carted off to hospital to have his face stitched up.  No-one at school tried pushing me around after that.

When I turned my back on education and started work I had no clear ambition.  Although reading had given me many insights into the world at large, I had no knowledge of where I might go in terms of career in order to succeed.  The majority of my neighbourhood pals had followed fathers and uncles into union dominated areas such as the ‘print’ (don’t believe for one minute that nepotism and patronage is the preserve of the middle and upper classes).  All I knew, with a burning intensity, was that I wanted to go far enough up the ladder that I could never fall all the way back to where I had started.

By the time I entered the workforce I was determined to learn as fast as I could what it was that would cause me to progress.  Anything or anyone who merely wanted to plod along or play the system, I shunned.  I sought role models I could respect and I learnt from them as fast as I could and, in turn, I supported them to the extent of my abilities.  Years later when I was reviewing my CV (following my final departure from corporate life) I made an interesting discovery.  My greatest successes had come in positions where I had worked for a person I had respected and enjoyed working and constantly going the extra mile for.  All of what I consider my failures came in roles where I reported to someone who proved incapable of engendering respect in me.

 I never enjoyed (and therefore shunned) team sports.  I think that this was another result of my enforced exclusion from the endless impromptu football and cricket matches played in my neighbourhood.  Sport was never played at my junior school and by the time I entered grammar school I simply had no skills or knowledge to demonstrate.  However, I have always been ultra competitive and was always quick to respond to a challenge or a dare (inevitably bringing me into yet another brush with authority).

 For many years  I thought myself to be an introverted loner (probably as a result of my enforced childhood solitude) .  Certainly I have never been afraid to be my own man, frequently taking the lonely path and a book always seemed a reasonable companion.  However, it wasn’t until many years later when undergoing training for the Myers Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) qualification that I found that I corresponded quite clearly to the preference of extroverted behaviour.  For those who are interested my type is ENTJ (Extraverted Intuition with Introverted Feeling).

 Isabel Briggs Myers defined the ENTJ type as “Natural leaders and organisation builders.  They conceptualise and theorise readily and translate possibilities into plans to achieve short-term and long-term objectives.” She goes on to describe them as likely to be: “analytical, logical and objectively critical; decisive, clear and assertive; conceptual and innovative theorisers and planners.”  There are downsides to this type, which include, “Becoming overly impersonal and critical; being intrusive and domineering; and being abrasive and verbally aggressive.”  I largely recognised myself from this description.

Are leaders born or created?  I really don’t know the answer to that question but I do believe that everyone can learn to improve how they lead and that differing situations bring a requirement for different types of leader.  I had no influences of leadership that I am aware of in my early years but I was put in charge of a patrol in the Scouts aged twelve and then became troop leader at fourteen.  Having been given my first business to run at age twenty-nine, I suppose I must have shown some degree of leadership potential.  So what was my leadership style?

 Those who worked for me are best equipped to answer that question and I am certain that there are as many that saw the negative aspects as there are those who can recount the positive side of my leadership.  I have always believed in delegation but an interesting insight into this aspect came from Vic Vroom (a Professor of Psychology at Yale).  Following analysis he described me to be a clear believer in delegation, except in two circumstances; where time was of the essence and where I did not trust subordinates to make the right decision.  I can certainly identify with this description.  When I had a good, well trained team (as I did at Sylvania UK) I trusted them implicitly to make the right decisions.  When faced with a failing business and a team that sadly was lacking both experience and ability (as I found when appointed to turnaround Selmar), my style had to be far more decisive and authoritarian.

I find it sad that many senior politicians claim that they know they are doing ‘the right thing’ (usually when they are incapable of providing a logical explanation for their actions).  In business we have company law and legislation to guide us through many of the difficult situations we may face.  Despite my dislike for authority, when I fully understand the logic behind the regulations, I find it easy to do the ‘right thing’.  When I was called upon to make some of the hardest decisions (such as firing a friend and colleague and calling in the administrators) I knew that my actions were both legally correct and morally defensible.  Not taking these actions would have exposed creditors, other shareholders and employees to far greater risks.

With a life long thirst for learning I have always been interested in why people differ in their need and preference for learning.  A few years ago I came across the Learning Styles concept, pioneered by Peter Honey.  Taking the questionnaire I found my learning style preferences to be strongly for Theory and Activism (with lower scores for Reflector and Pragmatist).  This would explain my thirst for acquiring theory and a rush to put it into practice where relevant.  However, it also explains why I suffered from leaving the impression at so many interviews of ‘being all theory’ (despite my attempts to explain how I went on to successfully put theory into practice).

 Certainly, I have always tended to describe myself when asked, as being analytical and logical and I count myself fortunate in having had ample opportunity in my career to apply these behavioural traits.  And, looking back, I am fortunate to have succeeded more than I failed in my business endeavours.  It has also been possible to see how the negative aspects of my behaviour (and yes, every strength has a potential downside) have caused pain to others around me.  Not least of these have been those I loved the most.

 In the next part of this retrospective I will try to examine the emotional issues that I faced in tackling some of the problems I had to deal with and the consequences these had on those around me.

Image courtesy of Maiden-voyage-travel.com

The Business of life Chapter 38 – when a dream goes sour

“I’ve lost my job!” were the first words David uttered when he turned up to see me in early 2002.  David and I had known each other for well over twenty years, since our time in the lighting industry running competitor companies.  Despite the intense rivalry between our organisations we had always enjoyed each other’s friendship when we met at industry functions.  We had lost touch with each other when David had moved to the south for a new role but he had recently relocated back to Yorkshire again.  We spent time together discussing what had happened and the options David had for his next career move.

Our business crest & motto “Strength through knowledge”

It was some months before I met David again, but when he came calling it was to set my career off in a new direction and widen my portfolio of roles still further.  “I’ve got an idea for a business.” was David’s greeting that second meeting, “Are you interested?”  He went on to say that he had paid a large sum of money to sign up with what claimed to be a not for profit organisation that provided re-training for executives wishing to move into business consultancy.  David’s view was that the course he had attended had provided poor value for money and he believed we could do far better in setting up our own competing service.

I was noncommittal that first day but said that I would research the sector and see if the concept of a competing business made sense.  I went through the process of producing a draft business plan.  After reviewing the company in question, all similar businesses and the Small and Medium Enterprise (SME) sector I came to the view that, given David’s recent experience, we could well put together a superior service.  When I added in our respective experience and skills I became convinced that this was a viable proposition.  I met up with David once more, took him through my findings and we quickly trashed out the actions required to get our new business started.

Within a short period I had registered a company (The Academy of Business Consultants), obtained a VAT registration, taken out the required insurances, produced a corporate identity, leaflets and business cards, created and implemented a website and sketched out a marketing and operations plan.  I was driven!  Working with David proved to be extremely productive as we found that we had a synergistic effect upon each other that made creating concepts and resolving problems a simple and enjoyable process.  Within six months of our initial discussions we had our business and launch plans complete and placed the first advertisement of our advertising campaign in the Sunday Times.

The concept we had developed involved refining the enquiries we received from the advertising campaign, getting the candidates to complete an online personality profiling questionnaire and inviting them to an evening seminar.  During these seminars we would outline a genuine array of career options open to them, present a profile of the SME sector and its needs, pitch our training course concept and provide valuable feedback on their behavioural preferences and how these might impact upon future roles.  The responses we received to the advertising were good and we ran seminars in the North, Midlands and London.  However, despite receiving healthy attendance and strong interest it quickly became apparent that we had a failure on our hands.  We had encountered an insurmountable problem.

We had offered a better and more relevant training programme, set our price at a more attractive level and matched the offering of refined leads and continuing support to those completing the training programme.   There was, however, a critical element of our main competitor’s offering that clinched business for them but one we had chosen not to follow.  One of the key factors that invariably clinched the sale for our competitor was an ‘income guarantee’.  Having reviewed the documentation that David had been given it was clear that the guarantee was all but worthless, so hedged around with conditions and procedures that it was almost inconceivable that anyone could succeed with a claim.  Little wonder that they boasted that they had never had to pay out!  We decided that it would be unethical to match this misleading offer and we changed the direction of our business.

Whilst David had found that the ‘hot leads’ he had been provided by our competitor were at best on the tepid side of stone cold he had, nevertheless, succeeded in building a strong client base of his own.  An interesting and resourceful turn of events had been David’s success in persuading a local firm of chartered accountants to sub-contract the provision of business advice for clients to him.  This experience had led him into a similar arrangement with other firms.  The accounting firms were all members of a national marketing membership organisation (we’ll call them XYZ) that provided help and assistance to members to enable them to run a better business.

We knew from research conducted by Strathclyde University that accountants were the most trusted source of advice amongst private business owners.  However, David’s experience was that beyond the traditional areas of accounting and tax, most small and medium sized accounting firms shied away from offering other forms of business related advice.  “Why don’t we offer our business advice service to more of XYZ’s members?” I suggested. “They obviously see the commercial wisdom of offering advice to clients but don’t feel confident or expert enough to do so themselves.”  David agreed and this was the genesis of our new business venture.

I joined David (in my ‘spare time’) in widening the number of firms we approached and we quickly succeeded in winning further clients amongst the members.  Convinced that the service we were providing was potentially of real value to XYZ, we decided to approach them.  This was not a simple matter and it took many attempts over six months before we sat across a desk from one of the two founders.  The meeting went well and we came away with an agreement to trial our service to a sample of their members.  We recruited another highly experienced business advisor to join us and once again proved we could deliver results.  Some months later the trial was extended to a further region and the results continued to improve.

A short way into our extended trial the three of us started to uncover the same situation time and again.  It was the practice owner rather than their clients who was in most urgent need of face to face business guidance and support.  Despite being highly qualified and experienced chartered accountants the vast majority of practice owners lacked the wider business skills to get the most from their teams and their clients.  The answer we soon implemented was to commence a coaching programme with the practice owner in addition to our work with their clients.

We had implemented a client satisfaction feedback process whereby our researcher, interviewed every practice owner and client we worked with following a set period.  The feedback we received was invaluable and showed our service to be rated either first or second out of the whole XYZ offering.  It also enabled us to take corrective action where required and ensure that our service continued to meet members’ needs.  We also fed back the results to each associate and the XYZ management.  The change of direction was extremely successful and led to a real breakthrough when XYZ asked us to provide a national service for every new member they recruited.  We then formed a new company with XYZ as partners.  Given that we were now about to create a business with effectively a sole customer, we argued that such a shared destiny required a reciprocal shareholding in XYZ.  We were not successful in this but settled for the right to attend and participate in their board meetings.

Faced with a national launch far beyond the geographic capabilities of three of us we started an intensive recruitment campaign to cover the entire UK.  Within a short period we assembled and trained a team of 20 associates, each of whom had previously held at least one role as MD or chairman.  Ironically, each of these new associates had been uncovered via our previous competitor’s online network!  Based on the experience that we had gathered from our existing work, our model was based upon a mix of coaching and mentoring.  We knew that pure coaching methodologies (the coach questions and the coachee provides their own solutions) can provide strong results.  However, our own experience showed that a combination of coaching blended with appropriate guidance (based on the vast experience of our associates) enabled a time-efficient and professional solution.

By this stage I had been running businesses for thirty years and been an owner of various different organisations for ten.  These organisations had been many times larger than the one David and I had created and they had given me rich and varied experience.  But having created a successful organisation together from the failure of our initial concept was richly and uniquely rewarding.  To start and build a successful business is something really rather special.  We were now helping many business owners and their teams to be more successful as organisations and more fulfilled as individuals.  David and I had continued to make a truly synergistic team where difficulties were merely fresh challenges to be overcome.  With David’s superior interpersonal skills and my research, analysis and organisational work we were a powerful team.

David and I also worked closely with our new partners, resulting in an initially a strong relationship.  However, management changes took place within their organisation after a couple of years and differences of opinion started to emerge over strategy.  As time moved on I found that I was spending more and more time attempting to negotiate a resolution of these differences.  I became to realise that the rich feelings of satisfaction with our business that I had enjoyed so much had all but evaporated.  I could see only opportunity squandered and a loss of personal freedom stretching ahead.  A concept that both David and I had planned to run on into retirement had become something from which I could no longer derive satisfaction.

Following lengthy discussions over the situation we both seemed to realise that events had changed so much that we could never recapture the fun and satisfaction we had previously enjoyed.  Subsequently, following discussions with our partners, an offer was made to buy out my stake in the business and in 2010, after 8 great years working with David, I departed.

Reading over this last chapter I realise that it ends on a very low note but that accurately reflects the way it felt at the time.  There is a very much more complex story that I have abbreviated into a few short paragraphs but legal reasons preclude me from going into greater detail.  I really missed what David and I had created but time and circumstances had moved on and I had to do likewise.

David continued to run the business with our previous partners for another two years until the situation changed once more and the contract was terminated.  He is now continuing to offer business coaching and advice to a much wider spectrum of professions and still working with most of our previous associates.  I wish him every success in what remains a valuable endeavour.

We had succeeded in building this business together whilst I was still heavily involved in the running of ABC, Trisk and Bison as well as chairing Hallamshire.  I still don’t know how it all fitted together into 365 day years – perhaps the extra day in leap years helped.  And yes, whilst I was having fun in all these businesses, there was always the time I spent each week in Newcastle with the big investment I had made in Metal Spinners Group.  And events there were becoming ever more involving.

Less than a month after my departure an event took place in Newcastle that was to have far reaching implications.

 

The Business of Life Chapter 34 – life under water

Earlier in 1997 I had been asked by 3i to review a technology business they had backed that was being viewed increasingly as a ‘problem child’.  I agreed to meet the two main director shareholders of Advanced Bar Coding (ABC) to see what the situation was and if we could work together.  The business, a distributor of bar coding products, had been formed by the joint MDs in the early 1990s.  It operated from an industrial estate in Hull where it had offices, warehouse and a technical department.  Approximately 60 staff were employed & turnover was around £8.0m (having grown by approximately 35% each year since formation).  There were two other members of the board, a Sales Director & a Technical Director.Life under water

The situation I found was dire.  It was clear that the business was on the brink of insolvency having lost £1.0m in two disastrous investments in the USA & Germany (with the losses increasing each month).  The bank was threatening to withdraw their overdraft and had placed the management of the account into the hands of their ‘intensive care’ division.  The factoring company were reeling in their advances due to the poor credit record of many of the customers.  Margins were slender and seemed to be slipping with each passing month.  On the initial visit I got on well with Mike and Alan (the joint MDs) and was subsequently appointed to the board as a non-executive director.  The total investment made in the business by the shareholders and the bank was, to quote a phrase, “below water”.

Mike was a volatile powerhouse, a dynamic and successful salesman, totally committed to his business but very autocratic and appeared lacking in broader-based business & strategic skills.  His energy was inexhaustible but at times he seemed merely reactive to events.  The other main shareholder, Alan, was a quieter and amiable individual who acted as Finance Director (despite being completely unqualified).  We started work on a revised business plan to try to convince the bank to stay with us while we turned the business around.  A core element of the plan was withdrawal from both the USA & Germany.

The meeting went well but the bank refused to support the plan unless 3i and the shareholders increased their investment.  In a separate meeting they also conveyed that any further support would be conditional on a restructuring of the board.  Specifically they required that Alan step down as joint MD and Finance Director and be replaced by a new and suitably qualified accountant.  I was appointed chairman and required to invest, as was the incoming FD.  3i agreed to inject a modest amount of further capital and the whole package was conditional on finding a buyer of the business without delay.

Mike and I had agreed to approach the subject of Alan’s departure in a joint meeting with him and I hoped that we could resolve the matter, if not amicably, at least following due process.  An early demonstration of Mike’s volatility was not long in coming.  I arrived on the morning allotted for our meeting with Alan to find no sign of him but was greeted by Mike in an agitated state.  “I’ve fired him,” were the first words he uttered, “I couldn’t stand him any more.”  It seemed a row had blown up early that morning between the two of them resulting in this potentially disastrous turn of events.  Not only were we liable for a clear cut claim for unfair dismissal but there was the not insignificant matter of Alan’s equity.

Upon inspection of the Shareholders’ Agreement I found that there was no provision in it that required Alan to sell his equity back to the company in the event of his departure.  Given the dictate we had been given to sell the business, the prospect of a disgruntled Alan with no requirement to sell his shares rendered this possibility almost impossible.  I proposed that I met with Alan and asked Mike to have no contact with him.  Over the next week or so I shuttled back and forth in a diplomatic mission that ultimately resulted in us buying Alan’s shares back for a nominal sum.  With the bank onside, albeit with a reduced overdraft (and ABC still in the intensive care department), the factoring company agreeing to continue support and 3i making their additional investment, we were only left with a small number of mountains to climb.  We now had to extricate ourselves from the USA & Germany, find a buyer for the business and, without delay, find a new FD.

In the event this last requirement proved relatively painless and Andy joined the team first as a consultant and then formally as FD.  An accountant with a very commercial outlook, good venture capital experience and somewhat of an IT expert, he also had the invaluable experience of having been part of a team that built and sold one extremely successful company.  He was a thoroughly nice guy who fitted in well but something of the iron fist in the velvet glove.  If Andy felt a particular course of action was not either legally, procedurally or ethically right then you knew that it was not going to happen.  Colin the technical director was supportive but I had my doubts about Jay, the sales director (who soon moved on as the business became progressively more structured in its approach).

The three remaining board members became the most successful team I have ever worked with in my entire career.  If anyone from outside had been an observer at many of our board meetings they might have thought we stood no chance of success as violent argument was not unusual.  But we proved Meridith Belbin (probably the world’s first, and arguably the best, expert on team-working) right.  Successful teams don’t need to be harmonious affairs, in fact dissent often ensures full examination of the relevant facts and the available options and leads to successful decisions.  Mike grew in my estimation.  I can’t imagine how tough it must have been for him to be planning the sale of his treasured business although I did know that a sale was something he hoped would never happen.  A previously successful entrepreneur, he had seem his creation grow and then fail, saw little or no hope of a return on his investment and had to welcome onto the board two outsiders who questioned every assumption about the business.  We certainly had blood on the walls at times and Mike would often storm out of the boardroom with a face like thunder when a decision went against him.  But always, and often within the hour, he would seek me out and tell me that he had already implemented (or put into motion) whatever change was required.

Mike knew everything about the industry we were in and everyone in it.  The problem was that his knowledge was vast at the micro level but it was akin to a huge database without a search facility that could link aspects together.  He had always existed previously making rapid decisions and usually without reference to others.  The business had been Mike’s train set.  I was worried however that he lacked the experience or toolkit effectively to analyse the industry and our place within it.  He didn’t know what he didn’t know so often he didn’t go looking.  If we were to stand any chance of turning the business around and selling it on (let alone making a return on investment) I knew we had to have a coherent strategy, one that would take us out of the maze we were in.  Mike had resisted initial attempts to instigate a full strategic review.  “Waste of time,” he would claim, “I know everything about this industry and this business.”  Finally, he agreed to a rigorous process of strategic review and over several long meetings, by a process of research, brain-dumping, questioning and probing a clear picture appeared that the whole board could grasp.

In a highly fragmented channel, it was clear from our research that ABC was market leader in distribution.  This leadership stemmed from high levels of customer satisfaction, driven by an industry leading catalogue, great depth and breadth of stock, a superior technical infrastructure and a uniquely proactive telesales process.  Critically, we had premises and systems that could support at least double our current sales.

We had a customer base with a low level of creditworthiness, poor sales and marketing expertise below Mike and suppliers (some of whom were well known global corporations) with chaotic distribution strategies, poor service and zero demand building activities.  It was also now clear that we were suffering from a lack of certain key ‘flagship’ brands.  But overwhelmingly we suffered from a continual cash drain from the USA and Germany operations and a balance sheet with a £1m hole.

It was apparent that there were actions we could take to improve matters such as boosting our technical services and expanding our specialist product ranges, both of which provided superior margins.  We urgently needed to improve the quality of our customer base and lessen the risks we faced from bad debts.  But, far and away, the only option that offered a real step change in our fortunes would be to acquire one or more competitors.

Prices across the whole market were falling year on year and manufacturers continued to dump stock further depressing prices and margins.  But the greatest threat facing the business was of the bank ‘pulling the plug’ completely, leaving us with no means of raising the capital we needed to turn the business around.

The situation the business was in could be summarised as being fraught with problems and opportunities!  There was also only a very limited window of opportunity to act.

Mike admitted that he had learnt a great deal from the process & a new strategy was agreed by the board to move the business towards achieving a sale.  We were still living from hand to mouth in cash terms and were very exposed.  We desperately needed access to the ‘flagship’ brands to improve our offering in every category.  So, the suppliers of the brands we required were approached to allow us to gain access.  An agreement was reached with the least important of these, however the main two companies still declined to add us to their distribution base.

The obvious solution that had emerged from our strategic review would be to buy a competitor & transfer all business to Hull, thus improving sales & profits in one giant step.  We researched all competition & identified the half-dozen most likely candidates who had the key brands we required.  Meetings were held with all of these; some were initially interested in a sale, some refused.  But the crushing difficulty was in obtaining further funding.  Following meetings with both the bank and 3i to present our proposed strategy, both agreed that acquisition was an excellent idea but flatly refused to lend more to achieve it!

 Over the next six months and only following a great deal of effort (initially attempting to improve our operations) we finally succeeded in withdrawing from the USA and Germany.  A small but significant victory was receiving an ex gratia payment from one of the big four accounting firms that recognised faulty due diligence work they had carried out in Germany had led to the problems we had encountered.  We were still technically insolvent (with huge negative equity) but we had stopped making losses and, painfully slowly, each month we were starting to reduce the hole in the balance sheet.

Priority was then given to improving the internal processes of the business and to improving profitability.  Much work was done to analyse the customer base, sorting them into categories.  The sales force was now targeted with specific objectives against each of the main customer groupings.  Certain customers were ‘de-emphasised’ and left to competition.  However, we still could not break into certain of the best potential customers due to our lack of the remaining key brands.  The only remaining way we could gain access to these was via acquisition.  The problem was that we couldn’t raise a single pound more finance.

Of the discussions we had been having with a number of acquisition targets, one of these was owned by an American parent, primarily involved in software.  The UK products distribution business was losing money heavily, the parent was very keen to sell but they wanted serious money for a sale.  The business was ideal as it had both of our target brands, had an excellent customer base (a good percentage of which would be new to us) and had leasehold premises we did not need.  We estimated that we would need none of their staff and could transfer the entire business to Hull.  We also felt that we could grow sales of our product range via their customers.  A perfect match.  We left them with a statement that we were very keen to buy but that their price was too rich for us.  The chances of them selling to us seemed remote as we simply couldn’t raise any money.  The only option left would be to get the American parent to fund our acquisition.  But would they?  And if they wouldn’t, what future would ABC have?

We were still way ‘under water’.

  Image courtesy of lakedistrict.gov.uk

The Business of Life Chapter 29 – and then three come along at once

The New Year of 1997 brought surprises that, for once, were something to celebrate.  Shortly after the world started work once more after the long Christmas break, I had one of my regular review meetings with Phil at KPMG’s offices in Leeds.  “We’ve had a positive response from the last batch of letters I sent out,” Phil informed me, “Metal Spinners up in Newcastle are prepared to meet you.  However, when I spoke with them they told me how much they wanted for the business and it’s more than a bit rich.”  I remembered the business well from the last batch we had discussed and when Phil let on the amount they wanted, I groaned inwardly.The business of life chapter 29

There are many ways of valuing a business but one of the simplest is that of a multiple of sustainable earnings.  Somewhere between 6 and 7 times profit before interest, tax, depreciation and amortisation would be a reasonable average for a privately owned manufacturing or engineering business at the time.  The problem was that the figure they had quoted Phil was way above that.  “Sod it,” I responded, “We haven’t had a nibble for a while and the pipeline is a bit depleted, I’ll go and see them.”  We fixed a date for a week or so later and Phil volunteered the services of Crevan, one of his managers, to accompany me.  Perhaps there was some reason not evident in the published accounts as to why they had such an apparently inflated view of the value of their business.  Time would tell.

Back in my office the phone rang a short time later and I had Mark T from 3i on the line.  “We’ve just concluded a management buy out (MBO) of an engineering business in Sheffield and we need a Chairman on the board.  No guarantees that they’ll pick you as we have provided them with the names of a few suitable candidates, but are you interested in having a talk with them?”  A few days later saw me seeking out the address on a small industrial estate on the south side of Sheffield.  The business was housed in old premises and specialised in the production of small batches of bespoke tungsten carbide components and was very profitable.  The business had been bought out by its management (the engineering director and finance director) who now shared the role of MD.  I was given a tour of the facilities and we then discussed the business plan they had used to support their bid.  The meeting seemed to go well and they said they’d let me know when the other candidates had been seen.

The next week Crevan and I made the journey up to Newcastle and met with Clifford the MD and Mike the finance director of Metal Spinners (Newcastle).  The business had been founded in 1953 by Clifford’s father and proved to be spread across numerous sites in Newcastle, Washington, Manchester and Birmingham.  The premises that we saw that first visit were old (like so many UK engineering firms I had seen over the last year or so) but there was something about them that gave off good vibes to me.  I liked the fact that their main process (metal spinning) was very much a niche one and that they had both a major blue chip industrial company as their main customer plus over a thousand others.  The incredibly welcome news was that the business was in fact a group of eight separate companies that were non-consolidated.  The combined turnover and profitability of the group was far higher than I had realised (having only seen one company’s accounts) and put the asking price right back in the realms of the feasible.

The other great news was that the business was not on the market and wouldn’t be if we could deliver a deal on their asking price.  Crevan and I came away with a complete set of books for the total company and pages of notes that we had made during our discussions.  Driving back to Yorkshire we summed up the opportunity; the shareholders seemed willing (although there was an absent shareholder and a family trust), the business was in a highly specialised niche, it was profitable, it had very limited exports and seemed to offer once more the opportunity to acquire smaller competitors and consolidate onto a smaller number of sites.  This was the best opportunity I had seen in a year and a half and it was exactly the type of company I had set out to buy.  Crevan and I agreed a split of the workload needed to assess the business and I headed back to my office to telephone Mark with a briefing on the day’s events.

The following day I received a call from one of the joint MDs in Sheffield.  They had completed their interviewing and wanted to appoint me as chairman if we could agree terms.  A few days later I formally became the non-executive chairman of Hallamshire Hardmetal Products with a requirement to chair monthly board meetings and be on hand to guide strategy, oversee the delivery of the business plan and provide whatever assistance they might require.  The company was run on a relaxed basis but I was pleased that their accounting systems were rigorous and Trevor H and Trevor S (the joint MDs) were easy enough to work with but had an all consuming passion in keeping things simple.  There isn’t a great story to tell but over the next ten years or so we formed a great working relationship, evaluated several businesses, bought a smaller competitor and then staged a further buy out from 3i.  The business never failed to make profits in all these years and was finally sold to a buy-in candidate in 2008.  Sadly, Trevor H never lived to realise the fruits of his labours, dying a short time prior to the sale.

Meanwhile, I was still in the midst of evaluating the Metal Spinners business when Mark T came on the phone once more.  “We have a buy-in deal we’re trying to complete but have a problem with their choice of chairman and are not sure about the business.  Would you like to have a look at the business for us and let us know your views?  If it looks good, we’d like you as investing chairman to lead the team.” There’s a long and tumultuous tale to tell here but suffice for the moment to record that I did approve and complete the deal and became investing chairman of Rothmere Ltd in the first half of 1997.

Over this hectic period I was burning the midnight oil with Mark and KPMG to pull together a heads of agreement with the owners of Metal Spinners.  Earlier that year we had managed to get Clifford and Mike down into the 3i offices in Leeds to thrash out an outline deal.  The sum that they had put on the table had transpired to still be far too expensive once Mark and I had put together a full 5 year projection.  I had discovered Clifford to be volatile and I was concerned as to how the meeting would go.  After an hour or so we had reached what seemed to be a significant hurdle and were well over seven figures apart.  We were also surprised to learn that they had appointed neither lawyers nor accountants to advise them; proving to be both advantageous in the short term and a near disaster later on.  Paul called a breakout and very quickly came up with a plan.

That morning we had received the first set of up to date management accounts and learnt that the business was rapidly building a substantial pile of surplus cash.  Going back into the meeting Paul spelt out (in the absence of any advice of their own) the net proceeds they were likely to walk away with after tax if we delivered the price they were asking.  This wasn’t enough to keep Clifford and Mike happy.  He then asked them what they thought they would be happy receiving after tax.  Having established this figure, Paul then laid out a formula whereby they took a combination of pre-sale dividend of the cash they had build up and took a substantial slice of the proceeds in the form of loan notes spread over the two years following a sale.

This formula of deferred consideration would give us a hefty contribution to our working capital requirements and lessened the upfront investment.  These loan notes together with the pre-sale dividend (their own money) produced a substantially lower overall tax bill that just brought the net proceeds up to the level Clifford and Mike had agreed they wanted to achieve.  In effect they were financing part of the transaction to achieve a lower tax bill.  They agreed and by lunchtime we had a signed copy of heads of agreement on this basis.  As part of the agreement they were giving us a period of exclusivity to enable us to complete the deal during which they would neither approach another prospective purchaser nor would they enter into negotiations with any other party.  The deal was on and it seemed achievable but a vast amount of work needed to be done in terms of due diligence.  A phrase was then uttered by Paul that was to come back to me time and again over the years in every transaction I was a part of,  “The devil’s in the detail.” he cautioned.

A couple of weeks later Mark T called me to ask what my time commitments were like.  By this stage I was chairman of one 3i investment and had recently completed my first MBI as investing chairman of another.  In addition, over the last couple of years I had continued my work with Jerrard Bros Plc and had been appointed chairman the previous year.  I responded that I still had some spare time and asked what he had in mind.  By this time it had become clear to me that, even if I couldn’t pull off the one big acquisition I had set my sights on, I could achieve a very nice portfolio of non-executive roles combined with equity participation.  We agreed to meet the following day.

Sat once more in the 3i offices (where I was beginning to feel at home) I listened to Mark T describe the problem he had.  They had backed the growth plans of a small technology products distributor that had grown extremely rapidly (by around 35% each year) and  had expanded into the USA and Germany.  Profits had been sacrificed for growth but the latest year’s results had produced an unexpected loss of £1m (largely as a result of the US investment).  The shareholders equity was now ‘below water’ and the bank was making ominous noises.  Would I go and meet the two director shareholders and, if they agreed, join the board as a non-executive?  I was subsequently appointed to the board and another rollercoaster ride was about to start.

Over and above my due diligence work on Metal Spinners and maintaining the research and analysis to keep the MBI target pipeline full, I was now working for various periods each month in businesses based in Croydon, Hull, Heathrow and Sheffield with various additional activities in London, Bristol & Birmingham.  I stopped all efforts to win new consulting clients and knew that something would have to give in these activities if I managed to pull off the major acquisition I had been seeking.  I was burning the candle at both ends and in the middle but was enjoying life more than I had for many years.  And any concern about money had disappeared over the previous few months as my portfolio of activities had grown.

My new life as a non-executive & chairman seemed to be the role my career had been building towards.  I was responsible to 3i to ensure that their investments in the companies I had joined produced the results they had planned.  However, this role was legally (and in practice) overridden by my responsibility to all of the shareholders (and in my mind to all of the stakeholders) of these businesses.  My broad experience had provided me with an ability to see these businesses in a wider context than their other directors (whose deep functional & specialist experience certainly exceeded mine).  Freed of the responsibility to manage a day to day role I was able to concentrate on direction, strategy & people (including customers).  These key aspects could only be achieved as a result of the closest working relationships with my fellow directors and their teams.  I was finding my business life to be immensely fulfilling.  Unfortunately, I was also going to find out that it would shortly become vastly more challenging than I could ever have imagined.

Meanwhile, alongside my work and responsibilities with these four companies, I was ploughing every once of energy and expertise I could muster into completing the acquisition of the Metal Spinners group of companies.  I was increasingly confident that I could pull this off but completely unaware of the scale and scope of the problems that were about to emerge in three of the other companies.

Image courtesy of en.wikipedia.org

The Business of Life Chapter 26 – casting off the chains

On my first morning at Selmar Industries I arrived early.  After a quick word with the few managers and office staff who were in at that time, I went on a tour of inspection.  The company was housed in an old textile mill on the outskirts of Brighouse in West Yorkshire almost at the end of a tightly wooded valley.  The buildings were a veritable rabbit warren with both offices and production facilities spread across different levels connected by tight and twisting passageways.  A new warehouse had been added to the rear of the site some years before and the yard outside appeared to be a dumping ground for disused HGV trailers.The Business of LIfe Chpater 26

Following a brief session with the management I held a series of meetings for both office and production staff.  After laying out the realities of the present situation, I went on to share my personal values and inform them that we would be working together to turn around the fortunes of the company.  I then held a series of individual meetings with all of the board and management team.  The highlights of my new team were Jeff and Neil (not my group MD), sales & finance directors respectively, professionally capable, enthusiastic, committed and nice guys.  They also proved to be extremely loyal.

The rest of the board and management were way below the level of competence I had been used to and, to be honest, made my heart sink.  They offered a veneer of support but it was barely masking an underlying denial of the dire situation the company was in and any personal responsibility for their role in it.  To say that I sensed a potential resistance to change would be a vast understatement.  Quite the saddest situation I found I had inherited was that of the administration director (who I’ll call ‘P’).  How he ever came to be promoted to this level was a mystery.  It would transpire that whatever hour I arrived in the office or left, he was always there.  Though supportive and loyal, I found that he was way out of his depth and was working 18 hour days in an effort to survive.  Knowing the urgent task I had on my hands to stem the haemorrhaging of cash, I decided to make no immediate personnel changes, there would be time later.  I knew ‘P’ was out of his depth and tried to protect him as best I could but he ultimately resigned.  A couple of years later I discovered from an HR consultant that my predecessor had engaged her to carry out an assessment of the board.  She had found ‘P’ to be so far below average intelligence, she simply didn’t know how he could even hold down a clerical role.  Nothing had been done.

The product ranges of the three companies in my group included domestic and commercial battery chargers, cable reels and power cords.  The business also produced small transformers on a sub-contract basis for another company in the wider group.  The battery charger business had been a market leader (and perhaps still was) but it suffered from a number of problems that were at the heart of the group’s problems.  Sales were highly seasonal with winter producing a demand at least five times that of the rest of the year (more in an exceptionally cold year – and one of those was about to strike).  Production had to run flat out throughout the remainder of the year to build stock as it was impossible to produce sufficient to meet demand as it occurred.  Thus this major division of the business consumed cash for nine months of an average year.  Selling through high street multiples and producing own brand for some of the major retailers it was subject to intense price pressures.  With its many export markets it also had significant foreign exchange risk.  These problems were serious enough but they proved to be compounded by sheer internal incompetence as I was to find out.  The other two companies demand patterns were not as seasonal but were also subject to severe price competition especially the cable business.

Having been intrigued by the trailers in the yard I requested that they be opened for my inspection.  This revealed a horror story of incompetence and connivance.  Each trailer (and there were five or six) was crammed to capacity with components and the largest single category was injection moulded casings for battery chargers.  These casings were either for obsolete lines or had retailers’ own brands moulded into them.  The own brand versions were for current production models but we had lost the business and they could not be used because of the branding.  This was in addition to the warehouse that was also stocked to the rafters with raw materials.  Upon further investigation I found that this stock was sitting in the balance sheet at full value!  This meant the true losses of the company (£3m in the previous financial year) were even higher than the accounts showed.

Horrified, I summoned the members of the management team who were connected directly or indirectly to forecasting or ordering stock to the yard and asked for explanations.  Unsurprisingly, the excuses flowed with much finger pointing but mostly in the direction of my predecessor.  When I raised the subject with Neil (my boss), stating that we had to write these off he growled, “Make some profits first to write them off against!”  After continued investigation the causes became clear with system disconnects and plain incompetence at the root of most.  Many issues could be rectified without delay but others took much longer to uncover and put right.

If the stock situation was bad then the production processes were at least the equal and arguably much worse.  The main production floor housed five production lines for battery chargers, transformers and cable reels.  Two separate facilities existed on different levels for cables and commercial battery chargers.  The first impression of the main production floor was of a state of chaos with people, components and finished goods everywhere.

As an example the cable reel line had fifteen people who seemed merely to be getting in each other’s way.  Finding that one member of the technical department was a trained production engineer I took him down to the production floor and showed him the line.  His response was to tell me that he had done the original line balancing and that it called for only eight operatives.  When I asked him what had happened he claimed that my predecessor, when output needed to be raised, had simply thrown people at the line.  This time the excuse sounded true and I agreed to strip the line down to its original eight members.  The very next shift the slimmed down team increased output and kept it rising over the following weeks.  We started work on the other lines.

I turned my attention to the cable line that produced relatively simple standard products with moulded plugs and sockets at each end.  The process had a history of problems and never seemed to run to plan.  The production supervisor was Marion, a lady who seemed to carry the problems of the world, not least of which were related to her personal life.  I asked her to join me in her small office and asked her what she felt could be done to improve quality and output.  She looked wordlessly at me with world-weary eyes that were deep set, spoke of little sleep and many problems and shrugged.  It was clear that she had once been if not beautiful then perhaps at least pretty.  But a broken nose, black ringed eyes and poor skin had long since robbed her of any claim to looks.  I asked her again. She stared at me with those dark eyes showing a mixture of  suspicion and confusion and murmured, “I dunno.”  It was Friday and I suggested she had a think over the weekend and if anything came to mind to let me know the following week.  She walked off back to the line.  I went home that night despairing.

Arriving shortly after 7.30 the following Monday morning I found Marion waiting outside my office.  “You serious what you said on Friday?” she blurted out, “You really want to know what I think?”  We went into my office and I sat her down and assured her that I was, indeed, really interested in any views she might have to improve the line’s performance.  “No-one’s ever asked my opinion of anything, ” was her response, “but I’ve been thinking all over the weekend and this is what I think.” What followed was a succession of ideas that sounded sensible and easy to implement.  “Go ahead then.” I replied.  Her eyes came alive, “What?  Can I?”  Improvements followed quite quickly and were maintained.

An intractable problem was the night shift that was required to meet demand for the sub-contract transformer work.  Due to uncertainty concerning its future my predecessor had made a not unreasonable decision to use contract labour.  A contract had been signed with a local firm who recruited and bussed in the required labour from neighbouring towns each night.  The assembly tasks were relatively straightforward and the day shift was reasonable in its output and quality.  But the calibre of the people we were getting to work the night shift was dire.  I arrived in one morning to find that an entire night’s production had been lost to ‘an incident’.  It transpired that two of the crew assembled the previous night had been rival drug pushers who had decided to set about each other with machetes!

Output and cost of production slowly improved and the end of the financial year showed a reduction in the losses.  However, as soon as one problem was solved continued investigatory work revealed yet more.  We were by then winning more distribution but price competition was eroding any benefits gained from the lower production costs we were then achieving.  Component quality problems continued to be a problem especially the injection moulded components that came from another company in the wider group.  Attempting to resolve these problems always led to counter allegations of constantly changing demand, which I would invariably find had some substance.

Quite apart from the challenges of solving the cash drain problems of the battery charger business, we also had an unacceptably high level of product returns for damaged and faulty goods.  Carrying out a detailed inspection of our product packaging I found that the quality of the board used had been reduced to something that was totally inadequate for such a heavy product and many products were arriving at retailers damaged.  I then decided to test a number of our products myself taking a different model home each evening and attempting to follow the instructions.  My experience quickly proved that the instructions (even in English) were simply ambiguous at best.  God only knows what the myriad additional translations had turned them into but an unacceptable quantity was being returned as faulty purely because the instructions were unintelligible. .

 Into the second financial year it was becoming clear that with increased competition and the power of major retailers driving prices ever lower our efforts to improve UK production efficiency were never going to be sufficient.  With the greatest of reluctance I decided that the only future for the brand was to outsource production to the Far East.   Having made contact with several potential manufacturers, I headed out to Hong Kong with Jeff our technical director.  During that trip we visited many factories in mainland China, all were dispiriting places and, which combined with the fledgling infrastructure and teeming population, produced a hellish vision of a dystopian future.  Yes, it seemed we could achieve lower invoiced prices but quality and the lengthy supply line troubled me.  By the time we returned to the office the decision had made itself.  We had already received, via another route, a leaflet from an unknown Chinese manufacturer offering their products to us.  ‘Their’ products shown on their full colour leaflet were the samples we had left in China with our brand names carefully concealed!  It was just too risky to take the chance but events overtook me anyway.

By this time we had managed to pull the losses back to a break even position but added to the pressures within my business, our parent company was struggling to survive.  Neil my boss, with whom I had established a super working relationship, arrived early one Monday morning a few weeks later with bad news.  The group had decided, without reference to me and despite our elimination of £3m of losses, to close our operation in Yorkshire and merge with another group company.  I was informed I was to be made redundant but first had to oversee the sale of our cable business, again something that had been arranged by the main board.

For the next month or so I worked with the accountants sent in by the purchaser in the due diligence information gathering process they were conducting.  The sale concluded Neil informed me that I would have to work out the remainder of my contract (in some capacity) but ‘could take reasonable time off to seek other employment’.  The conversation turned into one of those blood on the walls events as I fought to achieve a clean financial settlement instead of working for another 10  months in some spurious role.  Not being able to reverse what was clearly a decision forced upon Neil by a cash-strapped main board, I engaged the services of a law firm specialising in employment matters.  A few weeks later I walked away with a cheque having compromised on a slightly lower sum.

This time there was neither rage nor sadness but simply the realisation that I needed to take stock afresh.  I had proved once more that I could achieve what required but to no avail.  Seeing the writing on the wall over the previous few months I had been quietly testing the market once more and had got to offer stage with a small US corporation.  However, my research on the company told me that I might well be going from frying pan to fire.  I was now 49 and had begun to feel that my corporate days were over and it might be better to draw a line than suffer the same fate again in a few years time.  My mind went back to Norman and his CVC backed purchase of GTE Sylvania and the decision wasn’t hard to make.  Reviewing my knowledge and experience I decided I could achieve a management buy-in (MBI) and I would.  I phoned the Americans and informed them I was withdrawing.  I then called all of my head hunter contacts to let them know that my time as an employee had come to an end.

I had barred and shuttered the route back into employment and, with my mind clear of distractions, I could concentrate on achieving this major new goal.  Could I do it though?  Could I really convince the venture capital community to back me with the millions it would take?

 Image courtesy of businesspundit.com

My life in business (chapter 2 – a false start)

You could say that I had it easy when, at the age of fifteen, I walked straight into an office job.  Many of my neighbourhood contemporaries followed fathers and uncles into ‘the print’ (nepotism was and is not the exclusive practice of the upper classes it is portrayed to be today).  Still they earned comparatively vast sums, sharing the cash proceeds of additional & fictitious men signed on for the particularly lucrative Saturday night-shift under such names as M. Mouse & D. Duck.  Little did they know their future as they waited unknowing for Messrs Shah and Murdoch to make dinosaurs of them.  Well, perhaps I did have it easy at first; with unemployment hovering around a genuine level of 350,000, competition for jobs was low.  But did it ensure I was set up for life?  Did it mean career success would surely follow?   That was something else, which as we’ll see was far from straightforward.

 Work in the swinging sixties started well for me.  Learning the basics of clerical work in the world of industrial and consumer finance at the Mercantile Credit Company was easy enough.  The language, culture and scams of the industry were quickly assimilated and I was soon made assistant to the office manager and commuting into central London on my first motor bike (my first experience of the NHS A & E service following soon after). The routine was stultifying and even the typists were boring.  One highlight full of excitement was being despatched to repossess an ageing Lambretta from an unsuspecting debtor.  But parallel to my commercial endeavours was a social world that was exploding into espresso bars, pubs, rock and roll, jive, miniskirts and a growing lack of deference to the establishment that was especially refreshing to an ex catholic organ pumper fluent in church Latin pronunciation.  Penguin’s publication of Lady Chatterley’s Lover did much to provide additional and extremely relevant study material.

London’s music scene was exploding.  My haunts soon became the 100 Club, the Marquee, the Flamingo, the 51 Club and Eel Pie Island.  Flush with money, or so it seemed, I lived a double life.  I spent money on sharply tailored bespoke suits for the office where I tried hard to appear successful, but office hours over, a carefully cultivated downbeat style was adopted for nights out.  I still drank with my old South London friends in various local and East End pubs on Friday nights but my alter ego would meet with a group of more eclectic friends in a variety of West End and Hampstead coffee bars and pubs. I was never much of a drinker though, and it would be a rare occasion when I was not sober.  A hard drug scene had also blossomed into the mainstream of the London club scene but it never, ever, even tempted me.  My avid reading of the lives of my jazz and blues heroes had taught me that it was drugs that usually destroyed talent.

Carried away with the London jazz scene, I bought a trumpet and having soon gathered sufficient fellow adherents to the New Orleans style, I formed a band, the Storyville Shakers.  With enthusiasm exceeded only by an execrable lack of talent, we tried hard to swing into the London scene with a Sunday lunchtime appearance at a pub in decidedly unfashionable Lambeth.  The experience soon provided my first encounter with an iron law of music; organising a band is worse than herding cats – leadership 0, anarchy 1. I continued playing, sitting in with any bands I could.  A highlight was an afternoon spent playing in a band on the Aldermaston CND March.  I still remember a soaring solo I made (cribbed note perfect from a treasured record) on ‘Just a closer walk with thee’ as we marched past the Houses of Parliament. I had rebelled enough to have made a statement (or so it seemed at the time).

Soon, a serious manifestation of the World’s risky existence settled on my consciousness in the form of the Cuban Missile crisis.  Huddled over a pint in the Lamb & Flag in Covent Garden with the Evening Standard trumpeting imminent nuclear annihilation, I feared my life was over before it had begun.  However, a few long days later, the crisis passed when Khrushchev blinked first.London resumed its swinging and I was able to concentrate on succeeding in both job and social life.  But, despite the success of the social revolution, there were still only 24 hours in a day and every one was taking its toll on me.

On a rare evening when I had actually gone to bed before midnight (if at all), I woke choking and coughing violently.  Switching on the light revealed a scene more a slaughterhouse than a bedroom; I was haemorrhaging. The coughing itself was nothing new; it had been with me for months along with a severe reduction in weight.  A few days before, finally realising all was not right, I had taken myself off to the doctor, been examined and referred for an x-ray that same day (things in the NHS worked back in the Sixties). Seated that afternoon in front of a fatherly looking consultant, he informed me that I had a shadow on my right lung and that it was TB.  The shock ratcheted up when he wanted to hospitalise me that same afternoon.  Blind panic set in; my world really was ending.  How could I just go into hospital that same day?  I argued and pleaded for a few more days to pull my mind and my affairs together. My pleading worked and I spent the next few days telling my girlfriend, band, other friends and employer that I was going to be away some time. That delay was a big mistake.

Whisked away in an ambulance with bells clanging (that’s what they did in those days) I was incarcerated in Grove Park Hospital, a TB sanatorium in South-east London, for what was an indefinite period.  Originally built as a workhouse over a century before, the building retained an all pervading grimness throughout.  The initial shock of restriction of liberty was far greater than that of the bloody incident itself.  Once I adjusted and gave myself over to my narrowed horizons, life was not too bad; apart from my backside which was fast becoming a pincushion from daily injections of the then wonder drug streptomycin (which was going to have very unfortunate side effects years later).

Daily ward routines were made tolerable by a delightful young Irish trainee nurse who used to chat to me (whenever Sister was safely out of sight) and share tales of her fumbling attempts to learn the art of injections with the aid of an orange.  Several days later Bridget arrived looking exceptionally nervous.  Sister declared that nurse would be giving me my injection that day.  Oh, shit! Her very first live attempt!  Buttocks bared, teeth & cheeks clenched and desperately trying to remember which of the many saints to whom prayer was likely be the most efficacious, I was most painfully impaled.  Slowly, over the next few weeks, the cough departed and weight started coming back.

My fellow inmates and I soon settled into a routine of sorts.  We all had to produce a urine sample on a weekly basis and much discussion and ribaldry centred on the varying colours and hues of our productions, lined up on the window ledge in the bathroom on Monday mornings.  Ours was a large ward with few patients, simply me and a young Jamaican lad, two Pakistani seaman and a middle aged Greek shopkeeper whose command of English seemed to be based around the ceaseless use of the interrogative “innit?”  One day a month or so into my confinement our tranquil existence was shattered by the arrival of an Irishman of the peripatetic persuasion.  Possessed of a particularly aggressive nature, he soon disrupted our harmony and confirmed the stereotype by disappearing one afternoon only to return late that evening.  He was not just drunk but roaring drunk, alternating bouts of atrocious singing with random acts of aggression.  The night sister merely attempted a feeble admonishment before locking the ward doors and leaving us to it.  A wretched and sleepless night followed.  My first encounter with the caring side of the nursing profession.

 One afternoon my old boss arrived and stayed long enough to tell me that I had been fired, leaving me with my ‘cards’ and a bag of grapes.  After several months I was informed that I would be able to take short walks in the grounds; oh, joy!  Clad in now ill-fitting clothes I wandered the gardens surrounding the hospital soaking in a state of semi freedom. Illcared for and downright scruffy the gardens might have been but to me they were a paradise found for reflective thought.  I soon decided that life was going to have change completely.

One bright winter morning some weeks later, I was discharged back into the world as a changed person with no career.  What now?

Image courtesy of FFFFound.com

My life in business (chapter 1)

I grew up in central London.  No, not the genteel bits ofWestminster, Pimlico and Chelsea but the deeply unfashionable parts a couple of miles south of London Bridge and west of the Old Kent Road.  We lived in Walworth, just south of that wonderful landmark, the Elephant and Castle,  a traffic clogged island, and now home to probably the worst example of a shopping centre ever created (due for demolition this year – worth a miss).  The area didn’t even have the dubious dignity of being within the sound of Bow Bells, so I can’t even lay claim to being a proper Cockney (even though I am still clearly recognised as a Londoner).

To say I grew up as an example of childhood poverty would rob my family of the dignity we had, be an attempt to misrepresent the love I received from my parents and anyway, the family life we enjoyed was in blissful ignorance of such social-political phraseology.  Certainly, a tin bath in front of the fire on Friday evenings never did any of us any harm and weekly bathing was still the norm in our street.

My early playgrounds were the bombsites that still littered London in the 50’s and well into the 60’s.  Superficially ‘cleared’, these acrid smelling sores contained a profusion of weeds, half-uncovered cellars (under the ubiquitous clogging Bindweed) waiting for the unwary and made convenient shortcuts between streets.  Later, when I was a little older and trusted to navigate by myself on London’s buses and on my hand-me-down bike, I ventured out to the many parks that breathed life into our capital, soaking up the sights and sounds along with the sun that always seemed to shine.  A favourite was BrockwellPark, home to that wonderful lido (first port of call on a bunked-off summer school day).

We were a God-fearing family and it’s fair to say that religion played a strong part in my early life.  We prayed together and we stayed together.  The first real influence of my father came when he handed me over to the parish priest at the local church for regular lessons in the Latin of Catholic prayer and the rituals of serving at altar.  Being universally declared tone deaf by church and school, I was excluded from the choir but, instead, made chief pumper of the ageing manual organ, high up in the loft.  Memories linger even today of that curious and sickly mix of incense and body odour wafting past the old organist and I on its journey to the heavens.

Looking back, poor as we were, I realise that my father bequeathed strong influences and powerful gifts to me.  But by far the greatest gift was a love of reading.  Curled up tight in bed, I would listen intently to the stories he read to me.  Later when about seven or eight I was thrilled when he delivered me one Saturday morning to the library at Southwark Town Hall to join the Young Readers’ Book Club.  Gathered in a half circle around a pretty young librarian we listened enraptured as she read to us and then guided our choice of books for the week ahead.  By age ten I had exhausted the junior library’s stock of books and once more my father took me in hand, across the corridor, into the hushed, enormous room that was the adult library.  Being years too young, my father had cleared the way with the head librarian who nodded sagely at the sight of me and solemnly handed over my very own senior library tickets.  Roaming the adult library was, for me, like being let loose in the biggest sweetshop in the world.  For hours I would scour the shelves in the non-fiction sections for histories of war, of tortured victims, of great suffering and great escapes, long journeys and of adventure in far-flung places.

A cabinet maker born of Irish parents, my father (and son of Joseph of whom I have blogged ‘So you think we have it hard’), married my mother, the youngest of seven siblings from her Italian parents and the only one to be born in the UK.   Protective of me in an extreme, Mum and her side of the family taught me always to be welcoming of strangers and to offer whatever hospitality you had.  Somewhat an oddity, my father belonged to a rare group as a right-wing trade unionist who read the Daily Telegraph.  So, every Saturday morning after I got my hands on the paper, I would read the book reviews, make my pick of the latest publications and run off to the library, where for six old pence I could order and reserve my book choice (no budget cuts then).  Several weeks later a post card would come informing me that my book had arrived and a pristine new copy awaited me. The library also had a huge record section which I set about trawling from A~Z and it is from these old recordings that I found favourites that have stayed with me to the present day, of Bach and the Baroque, the great Italian tenors, through to Blues and Jazz.

My father was a solitary man, without friends, but he always seemed to make the right decisions over who I should be introduced to for guidance.  So, also at the age of ten, I was marched (father never merely walked) off to meet the leader of the local Scout troop, The 15th Southwark.  What followed were four or five years of bliss.  From the claustrophobia of London, scouting transported me into the countryside, which I loved at first sight.  Scouting gave me new skills and confidence, and provided me with leadership opportunities for the first time.  We must have been a typical bunch of local lads but only one of which was I ever to meet again.  However, one of my friends went on to become a future CEO of Sainsburys.  I wonder if anyone else of our past scouting colleagues achieved anything in business.

I must have been reasonably bright as I was the only child in my junior school to pass the Eleven Plus that year.  Memories?  Warm milk, the scrapes I got in on the way home, Betty my first crush, regular beatings in front of the class for continuous misbehaviours, one of which I still savour.  We had a very pretty young student teacher one year who wore very tight skirts which gave me more than one idea for a ten year old. I brought a carefully chosen scrap of cloth from my mother’s sewing box and, from my seat at the front of the class, I ripped it through as she bent down to pick up a dropped chalk; her reaction was better than I could ever have dreamt of and the subsequent beating a small price to pay!

Moving on to Grammar school my performance started strongly amongst the new competition but soon declined.  The school was all boys run by an obscure religious order, the Brothers of St. Francis Xavier.  Good teachers they were not but as wielders of the cane, our very own headmaster was a true sadist.  I learned to love English (the only truly inspirational teacher I had), art and athletics.  A crushing disappointment was music, where in my years at school, we played & listened to – exactly nothing.  Did I earn positions of responsibility and authority? No, but I learnt to fight back when bullied, to orchestrate mischief from the rear, to loathe religion and seethe with frustration when nobody could or would answer my continuing question; why?

At age fifteen I started a Saturday job as a junior salesman at John Collier Tailors and found I could be very persuasive and earned, what for me, was a large amount of commission on my sales. Later that summer, still only fifteen, I skipped school one day, took a number 12 bus to Oxford Circus, walked into the first recruitment office I found and announced I wanted a job.  After a short interview, I was sent that same day to the offices of a large finance company just around the corner and was offered a job as a junior clerk.  

My commercial life had started.

My life in business (Introduction)

About 20 years ago when my career was going through a patch of the doldrums, and being bored beyond belief, I started writing.   A short story roared off the pen in double quick time and then ‘the novel’ loomed large in my ambitions.  An outline was quickly sketched out and an initial series of chapters flowed before I hit the wall.  There was a need to do some serious research (background for a critical chapter) but I never got round to it as the career took an unexpected lurch forward once more.  Despite constant revisions of the material I had already written over the intervening years it progressed no further (as the research remained neglected), languishing in the dusty recesses of one hard drive after another.

 Following my retirement last year the keyboard beckoned once more as I started to map out my ‘third age’.  The sudden transition from working flat out for so many years to having all the time in the world was not an easy one. Writing was the one thing I had always said I would take up when I retired; but where to start?  I wasn’t ready to resume work on ‘the novel’ (the research remaining undone). However, having investigated social media for my last business, I decided to take the plunge and The Retrospective Entrepreneur eased into the blogosphere in the middle of last year followed shortly by my first tentative tweets.

 The last 6 months have been a revelation to me.  Followers have been won, friends have been gained from both sides of the Atlantic and views from across the spectrum have been obtained The welcome I have received from you all has been humbling and I have learnt that opinions I have taken for granted are but a small voice in the vast and varied world of social media.  Exposing myself to views from the opposite end of the political spectrum remains challenging and brings home the irreconcilability of views on many subjects.  However, these differing views have given me insights that I would never otherwise have been exposed to and I am learning, slowly, to think before I hit the send button.  I have also been driven to tears on more than one occasion at the sheer determination shown by ordinary folk in the face of far more serious obstacles than I have ever experienced.  I have roared with laughter at the humorists amongst you and at the depth of experience and insight voiced on political, economic and social issues on a daily basis.  I’ve been put in my place more than once and learnt a great deal in the process.

In just over half a year I have notched up 40 blog posts covering a wide variety of subjects including many anecdotes from my career, trying to be relevant on topics of current interest.  Taking stock of my posts I can see that the posts and subjects covered are but glimpses of experience and knowledge gained at various points in my career.  I can now see that these posts lack a unifying timeline and narrative to enable them to make more sense.  The things I have done, the successes I have had, the failures and setbacks I have experienced have made me the person I am today.  My parents and ancestors provided the genes and the personality I possess; my parents, educators, business and society have given me a framework against which to test that personality.  I am privileged to have had a great (if somewhat unconventional) education and many chances to learn the good and the hard lessons that life can throw at one.  It has taken me a great deal of time to find the details of some members of my family that I never knew and I regret bitterly all the questions I never asked of far too many I did know.

So, I have started to write my autobiography.  Not an outpouring of the most personal details (they belong, quite rightly, within my family) but a narrative covering my business career, as faithfully as I can. I have written the first series of chapters and  I am going to start publishing on my blog.  Some of the experiences and subjects I have touched upon before but, hopefully, putting them into a chronology and providing additional detail will enable a fuller picture to emerge of where I have been and why I am the person I am today. Some of the characters you have met before but many who have had a formative influence upon my career are new.  Some of the characters enter the narrative as themselves and some will (as before) assume new identities to protect the innocent and the guilty.  Whether I can sustain the narrative and whether you will have the interest or patience to stay with me, we shall just have to see.  I don’t hold out my career or experiences to have been better or worse than others.  But they are my experiences; it is my career, it has made me who I am and I can only hope that it has some relevance in a world that is changing so rapidly.

Do let me know what you think of my recollections, favourably or otherwise. Feel free to share your own opinions and experiences.  I’m not giving myself a time schedule; we’ll just see how it goes.  First chapter this week.

Image courtesy of Fanpop.com

Out of the Firing Line (part 1)

In my last post I shared some of the events that led to my collection of ‘between roles’ situations.  Whilst I could have done without most of these events at the time, all of them taught me a great deal, caused me to re-focus upon my career direction and led to better things.  In this post I’d like to share with you some of the things that worked for me with some general advice.

Firstly and with no apologies, but being from am older generation, I have to say that debt is your enemy.  Certainly, we all have to take on a mortgage (I have never known someone to save up the entire price of a house) but I am not a fan of credit (unless in business when you have to fund a major investment). Having been schooled in cash flow management from my earliest days in business, it didn’t take long to realise that all credit does over the medium to long term is to eat up money in interest that could have been used to purchase more goods or services.  If you feel at risk of unemployment, then put priority into bringing down your debt before all else.  If you are newly unemployed, then go into crisis mode for spending and work out a plan with your creditors (it’s better and easier than waiting until every penny has gone).  Don’t feel embarrassed about being miserly, it is sensible and if it gives you extra months then it’s less stress.

If you have already been let go, treat the subsequent process as a full time job.  Keep office hours and don’t turn into a slob. If you have a home office, that’s great but if not stake your claim to a part of the house, call it your own and tell everyone else you’re at work and not to be interrupted. I worked extremely hard and methodically at each process of finding the next career move but I was also flexible.  If the sun was shining in the morning, I would take myself off cycling for 3 or 4 hours; building stamina and providing pure thinking time.  I’d then work through until 8 or 9.00 p.m.

Networking is vital as many roles (at all levels) are filled before they are advertised.  However, use the process intelligently; ‘give us a job’ is not the right approach.  Analyse your contacts, plan what each might offer in terms of reaching someone who can move the process on, the advice they can give and seeking information on target companies and industries (the more specific questions you can ask the better).  “If you hear of anything…” is the most stupid waste of breath and if you ever hear yourself saying this, give yourself a stern reprimand.  My experience is that used in this way everyone I contacted gave me time and the advice I that I received was of great help.

Carry out a persona SWOT (Strength, Weakness, Opportunities and Threats analysis), yes.  But then carefully work out what exactly it is telling you.  Do you really have unique strengths in terms of qualifications or experience?  Are you critically weak in some areas? What are market trends doing?  Are these likely to work for or against you?  Are there opportunities you can exploit and are there risks that are highly likely to occur?  Above all, don’t kid yourself and be brutally honest in your appraisal.  Focus then on the opportunities that build on your strengths, do all you can to avoid certain risks and minimise threats to your career.

 One of the hardest decisions is knowing when to build on an in-depth knowledge of an industry to target jobs in that sector versus using generic functional and personal skills and experience to move industries.  For some people moving industries at the same or higher level will not be possible; for others it may be your best decision.  I’ve moved industries many times and (I believe) it’s been a key factor in my success.  The incumbents in an industry can become myopic and vulnerable to groupthink but an outsider can bring fresh insights and new strategies (not always the easiest sell though). Be realistic though; moving from the private sector to the public or vice versa is not the easiest move to achieve nor is it likely to be the easiest to live with such vastly different cultures.  However, some skills (often technical) are more transferable than others.

 Another hard decision (and potential risk) lies in deciding whether to make yourself dispensable in your current role. This might sound like a crazy thing to say but consider; make yourself indispensable and you may weather a short term storm in a bad economic period but risk making yourself unpromotable.  Make yourself dispensable and you have proved you can move on and up but at the risk of being vulnerable in tough times.  However, I’d always rather be in the latter category and be able to prove to a potential new employer what I had achieved and how I was more than ever ready for the next big challenge.

Have a reputable psychometric assessment carried out; this is something I really recommend.  Questionnaires are available for free on the internet but I would not waste your time on these.  Instead find a practitioner of a well respected, reliable and accurate instrument such as the Myers Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) or the Occupational Personality Questionnaire (OPQ32).  The real value will come from receiving feedback and the coaching process that should follow.  We all think that we know ourselves well but I have rarely, if ever, met someone who didn’t learn from the feedback I provided to them.  The experience will also give you a far better insight into recognising others’ behavioural type, and critically, the characteristics that a particular role is calling for and how you might fit into the target company culture.

 However big the temptation to sell yourself into a role that really doesn’t play to your strengths, don’t do it; it will only end in tears.  We all have personalities that favour certain behavioural traits and these tend to make us more likely to be more successful in some roles than others.  We can modify certain behaviours but trying to do a 180º on a key aspect is really asking for trouble. A corollary to this is to avoid the temptation to believe all you hear from a prospective employer.  The recruitment process is really like dating; both parties may agree on the next step but the one after can be a very different and difficult affair.  A company is only as good as your boss, so research a prospect boss very carefully.  With LinkedIn this is easier than ever.

Research any prospective employer, do it thoroughly and understand what you have found out is really telling you.  I cannot stress enough how important this simple concept is.  Companies House can provide full sets of accounts for a small fee and a recommend taking a look at the last 3 ~ 4 years to gain a picture of what the key trends are.   Doing the same for key competitors will provide an additional source of information and equip you with more knowledge for an interview.  Google searches are so easy it’s almost not worth mentioning but they cn reveal a great deal.  The number of times I have been faced with short listed candidates (even for board level appointments) who have not carried out even the most rudimentary investigation on the business is incredible.  You can’t hope to understand everything about a business from the outside and it may make you very foolish if you jump to conclusions at an interview. Good research will enable you to raise the right questions and show you have done your homework.  There have been occasions when I have deliberately let a well prepared candidate take the lead at an initial interview, impressed by their depth of knowledge and perceptive questioning.

In the third section (following shortly) I shall look in more detail at some of the more creative approaches to the job hunt that I have found can work in getting that all important initial meeting.  Meanwhile, good luck and I’ll be back soon.

Image courtesy of careerguidetips.com