Fishy Financial Farm
I went to be interviewed by the fishy financial adviser.
His set of subsidiary companies is located on a farm. I drove down a narrow, muddy country lane and noticed a few horses grazing to my left. As I turned away to concentrate on the road ahead, I noticed I had just gone past the address I was looking for. I turned into the drive and drove on a narrow path, past the horses, avoiding the boulders marking the edge of the path. The path winded its way for a few hundred metres until I reach some stables and a farmhouse. There, the lady of the manor directed me to the offices.
I got out of my car, which was now drenched in mud - annoying as I had cleaned it a few days ago. I walked over to a large brick out-building. I was greeted by the owner of the business, whom I had spoken to. We wore matching pin-stripes and his accent was less dodgy East-End geezer but more public school toff. I asked me a few brief questions and showed my CV to an Italian colleague. He must have been pointing to the section where I claimed to speak French as the Italian started talking to me in said lingo. I replied and he commended me on my ability.
The owner disparaged the "dead men's shoes" of big business.
The owner said he ran a small but growing business but he made quick decisions. He said there was scope to invent something new every day. For example, he was asked if he could do training. He said yes, even though he had never done any. He then went away to work out how to train a client. He was asked if he could value a business. He said yes - and then researched how to do it.
He said that he had 2 rules:
His set of subsidiary companies is located on a farm. I drove down a narrow, muddy country lane and noticed a few horses grazing to my left. As I turned away to concentrate on the road ahead, I noticed I had just gone past the address I was looking for. I turned into the drive and drove on a narrow path, past the horses, avoiding the boulders marking the edge of the path. The path winded its way for a few hundred metres until I reach some stables and a farmhouse. There, the lady of the manor directed me to the offices.
I got out of my car, which was now drenched in mud - annoying as I had cleaned it a few days ago. I walked over to a large brick out-building. I was greeted by the owner of the business, whom I had spoken to. We wore matching pin-stripes and his accent was less dodgy East-End geezer but more public school toff. I asked me a few brief questions and showed my CV to an Italian colleague. He must have been pointing to the section where I claimed to speak French as the Italian started talking to me in said lingo. I replied and he commended me on my ability.
The owner disparaged the "dead men's shoes" of big business.
The owner said he ran a small but growing business but he made quick decisions. He said there was scope to invent something new every day. For example, he was asked if he could do training. He said yes, even though he had never done any. He then went away to work out how to train a client. He was asked if he could value a business. He said yes - and then researched how to do it.
He said that he had 2 rules:
- Answer the phone within 3 rings
- If the customer wants something, always say yes
posted by Iconochasm at 4:56 pm
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