Part 48 Rock Me Amadeus
Quorn not corn, a Mercedes sports car and a missing tenner.
It’s a well known fact that if you put a like on the end of this, the sun will shine all day, every day.
Good morning, good afternoon and good evening. OK, let’s crack on.
We’re up to the bit where we were toying with the idea of selling our successful little restaurant and moving to London to start all over again. But before any moves could be made, we needed to speak with a commercial property agent.
OK, we assume that most of you reading this haven't dealt with a commercial property agent. These people are clever, they aren't selling a property, they're selling a rental property.
Let’s explain with an example. Our old friend Tony Cannelloni wants to sell his Italian restaurant, he’s had enough and wants to retire. The property is on a commercial leasehold and there’s ten years left on the lease. The rent on this property is fifty thousand quid a year. So if you were interested in buying it, what are you actually paying for?
If Tony wants a hundred thousand pounds for this business, what are you actually getting? That money doesn't buy you the property. It just allows you to have the ten years on the lease and the joy of taking over the Italian restaurant. So you would be buying Tony’s customer base, his tables and chairs, the till, the coffee machine and the kitchen equipment. Oh yea, and some tea towels.
But hang on. What if you want the restaurant, but you don’t want to run it as an Italian restaurant? What if you want to use it for a tea room? What if you want to open a cute little bakery?
So what are you paying a hundred thousand quid for? Chances are, you wouldn't use a lot of Tony’s gear, most of it is probably knackered anyway.
Well, that’s where the commercial agent uses their magic. These people are skilled at selling you not very much. Honestly, they sell you stuff you don’t need.
“Ohhh, this Italian restaurant looks good. How much is it?”
“Oh it’s an amazing space isn't it. Good location also. Tony has been operating here for years.”
“Yes, but how much is it?”
“Well, for the pleasure of using another ten years on the lease, and paying fifty grand a year rent to the landlord, and carrying on the business, it’s only a hundred thousand shiny pounds.”
“Oh! That’s a lot, we want to open a little bakery, so we just need the site, not the business. We won’t be using the tables and chairs, or the pizza oven, or that six foot plastic chef which stands outside holding a menu. So we can’t understand what we’re actually getting for the money.”
Then the agent turns to face you. They look you in the eye and hold a stare for a few seconds. At first, it feels a little uncomfortable, but as the seconds continue, the agent takes over your mind.
“It’s a bargain, and deep down, you know it is.”
“Wow. I can’t understand why it’s so cheap. Tony Cannelloni is virtually giving it away. Where do we sign?”
And the next thing you know, you’re a few quid lighter, and you’re throwing tables, chairs and three foot pepper grinders into a skip.
Anyway, we contacted a commercial agent to ask what our place was worth, and could they sell it so that we could have some money so we could move to London.
The first one we approached was the same one which we used to buy the premises.
Coincidently, they had another restaurant on their listing which was further down the road from us. It was a sort of fine dining British food type place. It was a little bigger than our place, but it was hidden away, and it was up for two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. That was a crazy amount. Don’t forget, this was in York, in 2007.
To be honest, we can’t remember the exact figures for the next bit, it was a while back, but it went something like this.
“Oh yes I remember you, didn't you take the internet cafe a few years ago?”
“Yes, that’s right, but now we’re thinking of selling up.”
We gave the lady our details, answered a few questions, and then she came back with a rough figure.
“I would say that we could put it on the market for around forty thousand.”
What? When the place down the road was on for a quarter of a million. Plus, if that’s all we got, there’s no way we could take a place in London.
“Hang on, the place down the road is on for two fifty, why only forty for ours?”
“Well, that restaurant is very busy, and there isn't a great demand for vegetarian restaurants.”
“But we are very busy also. And you could say that having a vegetarian business on your books is a little unique. You know, turn it into a positive.”
She wasn’t having it though. We weren't happy about this figure, plus, it didn't make sense. As explained up there, what if someone took that place for two fifty but wanted to turn it into a burger bar. That would mean that they had paid a lot for stuff which they didn't need.
But, luckily, this new device, the internet, came in very handy.
If you think we deserve a three quid coffee, then this is the button to shut us up.
We found an agent in Leeds and they had lots of premises on their listing.
We called them, gave the details of our place, and answered a few questions.
This guy huffed and puffed into the phone a few times and then came back with this……..
“Well, without seeing the place, and based on what you’ve told me, I would say around a hundred thousand. But, remember, we would have to see the place before we confirm that, it could be a bit more or a bit less.”
We loved this guy, everything about him was great.
“OK, thanks for that, let’s set a day then.”
You see, there’s always a solution, just keep looking.
So we made an appointment for this bloke to come and see us in a weeks time. We still weren't completely sure if we were going to relocate to London, it still felt like an idea which we were toying with, and we needed a big chunk of cash to make it possible. And no way would it be a prime location for us, no Soho or Covent Garden. Anyway, let’s see what this Leeds agent says.
Right, back to the daily running of the restaurant and the lovely things which go with it.
Over the last year or so we had taken on more team members. They were always part time, students from York University. There was Matthew who played the cello, Emma who was studying psychology and Kate who was doing a law thing. Having these people work with us was interesting. They came from different backgrounds and they originated from various parts of the country. We could chat about topics which weren't just hospitality related.
Hopefully they found it interesting also, or maybe they just endured it because their Mam’s and Dad’s told them to get a part time job and stop sponging off them.
And because they were all studying different subjects, the conversations were varied.
Matthew could only work certain shifts because as well as University, he also had cello lessons.
“But Matt, don’t they teach you how to play the cello at University?”
“No. It’s more about when Mozart wrote his seventh symphony, that type of thing.”
“Oh, and when did he write it?”
“No bloody idea, I cant remember.”
“Hang on Matt, why do you need to know that anyway? How does that help you to play the cello?”
“No bloody idea about that either.”
And law stuff, that was interesting too. Kate told us this fact about theft. Imagine if you will. You steal a tenner from someone, then spend that tenner on strong cider and Liquorice Allsorts, and then feel a bit guilty, so decide to replace it. The crime cannot be undone. You see, each note is numbered, each tenner is unique, so if you replace it with another one, you still stole the original.
Something like that anyway.
Ah yea, and Bud, he was the funny one, he was going to be a comedian. And the good thing is, Bud liked winding people up, especially Briggy. You see, Briggy was a fairly serious person, I mean, she liked a laugh, but she didn't like childish messing about and unfortunately for her we did!
One particular day, we had been testing some polenta recipes, you know, with cornmeal. There was loads left, so Briggy decided it would be good if everyone ate some, she didn't want it going to waste.
At the end of the shift, when diners had left and we were all eating our staff grub, Briggy walked around asking everyone if they would like some polenta. But she called it corn, not polenta, probably because it’s made from corn.
She was also trying to get the plate emptied so it could be washed, therefore we could all go home.
Bud was still deep in the sink washing the last of the crockery. He had his back to everyone, so he couldn't hear too well.
“Bud, would you like some corn?”
“You what Briggy, Quorn? ”
“No, corn?’
“I don't want any Quorn.”
“It’s not Quorn, it’s corn. Do you want some?’
“ No, not Quorn thanks.”
“Corn Bud, not Quorn.”
“You what? Not corn?”
“No, not Quorn Bud.”
“Ohhh, not Quorn.”
“Bud, do you want some or not? It’s corn.”
Obviously Bud was winding Briggy up, we all knew it, but she didn’t.
“Yea I’ll have some. What is it?”
Without answering, Briggy grabbed the corn from the plate and threw it viciously into the bin, then gave Bud the plate to wash. She stormed off in a big huff as we all stood around trying not too laugh.
After running around a hot kitchen for hours on end, or giving diners a full description of every dish on the menu, at every table, all night, tends to make you delirious. So when you're stood around at 11:30pm, watching Briggy trying to make Bud eat some corn, and Bud deliberately confusing it with Quorn, the stupidity of it is amplified.
If a similar situation happened in a workplace elsewhere, lets say, in an insurance company office at 4pm, it probably wouldn’t be funny.
That night, only Briggy didn't find it funny. But we did, even Rosie, the too cool for you guys kinda gal, smirked. it’s interesting how some stories stick in our minds.
Back on to the commercial agent. This bloke arrived about a week later. We remember it very well. He parked right in front of the restaurant in a large Mercedes sports car. But it was the fact that he parked in front of the restaurant which stood out as odd. York was pedestrianised, probably still is, so no traffic was allowed in during the day, not sure how he managed to get in, but he could probably afford the fine.
Lunch diners had gone and only Donna and I were there. The guy had a look around, scribbled in a notepad, walked around again, huffed and puffed, then he prepared us.
Now remember, these figures are from our frosted memory.
“OK, I know we told you around a hundred thousand on the phone, but obviously we have to see the place.”
We got this, it made sense, but the tone of his voice suggested that he was going to give us a figure around the forty thousand mark, just like the other agent did.
“But when I spoke to you on the phone, I didn't realise that you were in this exact location.”
He had a point, we were hidden down a little side street.
“I mean, it’s perfect, York Minster is a hundred yards away, the main drag is two hundred yards that way, and there’s plenty of bars and restaurants around here.”
Now we were a bit confused.
“I would say, put it on the market for a hundred and twenty thousand pounds and take about a hundred and ten for it.”
In unison Donna and I repeated, “A hundred and ten thousand?”
Bearing in mind that less than three years earlier we had paid about twenty thousand.
The chap became defensive, “Don’t worry, we’ll try our best to get the full amount for you, I’m just giving you an idea of how it could go.”
Funny, we were blown away by the amount, but he thought we weren't happy.
“Yea yea we get you. No, we’re just a bit shocked, we didn't expect that much.”
“Right, have a think and let me know. You have my number, bye for now.”
He left, and we were left, a bit stunned.
With this amount it could be possible to move to London and and get ourselves a decent restaurant site.
This was starting to get a bit real, and a bit scary.
Wow, that was a lot to read wasn’t it?
Thanks for getting through it and we’ll catch you next week.
Donna and Andrew
I do hope this is gonna become a print book. It's a hell of a ride, and the jokes are good.
I do love a three foot pepper grinder, you only need to fill it once..