Chapter Twenty-Three
Sandy to the rescue
In the last chapter, I slipped in a mention of Sandy. This curly-haired dynamo must definitely be properly introduced to the story.
When Tea In The Library had been open for about eight months, it was clear that the sales trends were not soaring skywards as hoped. Dale the business advisor was showing signs of nervousness and even at this early point was beginning to make noises about reconsidering, and — quelle horreur! — closing down. He suggested that we take the advice of a retail specialist, and one was duly briefed. This specialist, Keith, had two colleagues, both of whom play a significant part in the remainder of the Tea In The Library story. Keith himself, on the other hand, who came up with a “close down” strategy for immediate implementation, was given short shrift. Call me willfully blind and ignorant (I was), but I wasn’t ready to give up on Tea In The Library yet.
Keith’s colleague Peter comes into the story closer to the bitter end. But Sandy was the person sent by the Universe at this particular moment in time to transform us. Sandy ran a one-woman consultancy business called “Bright Ideas” and they certainly bubbled out of her. She was also a dynamo at the hard work needed to implement the ideas. She described her skills as “marketing and business development” and she knows retail. She ran a shop herself once, and had all kinds of small business experience. But morale-boosting was perhaps her greatest strength in this, our Hour of Need. Having decided that I’d give the Tea In The Library project a few more months to work, Sandy joined the team, as a contractor.
The best thing for me in this development was having someone around who was — or soon became — as passionate as I that the business be made to work, the puzzle be solved, the vision revealed. Someone to talk to! And someone to back me up “on the premises”, where I could be only so infrequently. Sandy covered for me and looked after my fledgling dream while I attended to the day job, and when I traveled away from Sydney. Although Sandy wasn’t contracted to work with us full-time, she seemed always to be available, always “on tap”, and she gave her heart and soul to the project.
Under Sandy’s “bright ideas” we were able to finally ensure regular tracking of daily sales — every book sold was celebrated! We brainstormed promotional materials and marketing ideas — and those materials appeared and those ideas were tried out. Sandy made sure our flyers were designed, printed and distributed; she re-deco-rated our entrance; she re-organized the café ordering system; she even offered a saxophone busker she came across on the city street fifty bucks and a free dinner to play inside the shop on a Thursday evening. With Sandy on the job, you never knew what new idea was around the corner next.
She met with me and the key staff each week, and we covered off lots of details — most of which she made sure were followed through. When I traveled away from Sydney for my day job, Sandy checked on the staff, the sales figures, any issues, and sent me reports. She turned into the manager I always needed, and in the process became a good friend.
In one of her former lives Sandy had been an interior decora-tor. When she decided that our entrance was dull and needed to be more eye-catching and welcoming, she dusted off those old interior decorating skills. The first step was a colourful paint job on the grey concrete walls. Sandy found a rather odd-ball pair of lady painters (very reasonably priced) who spent one weekend painting our foyer in Tea In The Library’s elegant “corporate colours” of green and dark red. Apart from blithely painting over the official building name sign, which caused great offence to the responsible tenant representative and necessitated Sandy’s brother coming down to paint back in the name, it was a successful job. Sandy added colourful cushioning to the outdoor seating bench, and some outdoor carpeting to improve the welcoming feel. But the piece de résistance was the trompe — as in trompe d’oeil. The vision was for a wall mural depicting the shop interior on one of the concrete walls. The lady painters assured us they could do this, but as it turned out the mural was in fact painted on boards and affixed to the wall.
It depicted shelves of books, and included the Tea In The Library Logo of a reading lamp in the centre. Opinion among The Team was sharply divided. I always liked “the trompe”, as we referred to it; but it was rather roughly done, and there were some strong views the other way as well. Months later Emma would still slip onto the meeting agenda a proposal to “get rid of the trompe”.
It emerged later that the painting had in fact been done by one of the lady painter’s estranged husband. Rather mysteriously, he added a title to just one of the book spines in the trompe: “Worstward Ho” — Samuel Beckett. Of course, Charles Kingsley wrote Westward Ho, and not Samuel Beckett. And this, somberly, was WORSTward … We never found out the meaning behind this cryptic addition. We felt that the estranged husband must have been rather a dark soul.
The trompe, and its riddle, is there still.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Miss Carly steps in
One Tuesday morning I made my way to the shop for the scheduled session of “Eggs on Proust” at 8 am. The advertised speaker, Dr John Demartini, was unfamiliar to me, and I hadn’t taken much notice of the arrangements for this event. I was running a little late and started down the steps five minutes after the session had begun.
I was stopped in my tracks — people were blocking the doorway, filling the shop to overflowing, and spilling out onto the steps. I perched on the third step up, surrounded by five or six other latecomers, and we listened to Dr Demartini on the outside speakers (which I had thoughtfully installed when setting up the shop, for just such a contingency!) Dr Demartini is an American inspirational speaker, and he certainly inspired the adoring crowd that morning. The book he was promoting was entitled How To Make One Hell Of A Profit And Still Get To Heaven. The audience was made up of young, sharply dressed business-types, and they hung on his every word. Had we tapped Generation Y?! I must admit to being rather impressed with Dr John myself. At this stage I couldn’t actually see him, but he could be heard quite clearly on the foyer steps, and he was certainly a pro at this kind of speaking.
Needless to say, I was agog. Our Breakfast Club was counted a success if it attracted eight or ten people. There must have been sixty or seventy here. When the speaker had finished, there was a scrum to buy his book and have it signed. Todd could be seen above the heads of the crowd, red in the face, taking credit cards and bagging books as fast as he could. When the melee had subsided a little, I struggled through the heaving mass of book buyers to the front counter. Todd was still madly selling books, with a rather distracted air. Over the heads of customers thrusting credit cards at him, I hissed, “Todd! What happened? What did you DO? ” Looking slightly wild-eyed, he replied “I don’t know! I think it was Carly!”
“Who’s CARLY??”
Once the hubbub had subsided, and we could talk it over, Todd told me that he had been approached by a young PR consultant named Carly, who had attended a session of “Eggs on Proust”. Carly’s view, in a nutshell, was “great idea, crap crowd”. She asked Todd if she could supply a speaker, and guaranteed a crowd as well. He naturally accepted, but I don’t think he realized just what had been unleashed. Carly was Dr Demartini’s Australian PR consultant, and had links with the publisher of his books, Hay House. For Dr John, 30 minutes at Tea In The Library was an opportunity to spruik his book, and also to give a “taste” of his style to promote his two-day seminars, for which he charges a substantial fee. As Carly later explained it, many of the young go-getter attendees lapped up the opportunity to hear John speak “for free”, even if only for half an hour.
It was Carly’s goal to have the crowd half way up the steps. She just about did it. Naturally, after this stupendous illustration of what she could do, I was anxious to speak to Carly. She turned out to be a very young lady, very mature, very clever — and very beautiful as well. She gave me a professional plan for six months of PR, designed to boost our profile — and our sales. Sandy and Carly hit it
off right away. It was Sandy who christened her “Miss Carly”, in deference to her poise and elegance.
So Carly joined The Team too, and thus began a vigorous promotional effort on behalf of Tea In The Library — and a lot of fun, as well!
Carly’s game plan was to make sure the media knew about us, and we had certainly found that even a small editorial “mention”, in the right publication, worked wonders. Apart from the deluge of “short black readers” which had followed a review in the restaurant guide of that name, we had also once been blessed with a short (two column inches) mention in The Sydney Morning Herald magazine, Good Weekend, with a consequent immediate (if short lived) rise in customers and trade. The centerpiece of Carly’s plan was “Romance In The Library” — a week of romance-themed events, including a media launch. The launch was designed around Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice. The shop was draped in silk and roses. Every book title that could possibly be described as having anything at all to do with “romance” was on prominent display. Carly herself dressed in period costume for the media party. Lucinda Holdforth, our wonderful supporter, spoke about the love affair of Napoleon and Josephine. I read excerpts from Nancy Mitford’s Love In A Cold Climate, and the opening paragraphs of Collette’s Cherie. We had a great deal of fun, and attracted a respectable crowd of media.
One of the more memorable events that week was the visit of Valerie Parv, a writer of genuine “romance novels” of the Mills & Boon variety. Valerie is in fact one of the most successful writers on the books of Mills & Boon, to the tune of about 25 million books sold! Valerie is a lovely, articulate lady, who is quite happy to defend her genre, and discuss issues such as why so many people read so many romance novels. We had a lovely morning with Valerie, at the end of which she extracted a volume from a capacious handbag, signed it with a flourish, and handed it to me. It was called The Viscount and The Virgin. I treasure it still.
About the time that Carly joined The Team, I had my own inspiration for a marketing extravaganza. I had traveled to Atlanta, Georgia, on a business trip, where I visited the home of Margaret Mitchell, author of Gone With The Wind. I was full of the cadences of the Deep South, and my bright idea was to “theme” a book sale around the famous novel. Carly took to the idea with verve (although I don’t think she had read the book or even seen the movie). She hired two lovely dancers who were “between jobs”, and took them to the ABC (Australian Broadcasting Commission) costume department to hire period dress. Voila! Scarlett O’Hara and Miss Melly materialized. They looked very beautiful in their bonnets and bustles.
Sandy made up leaflets using slogans like “Prices are ‘Gone With The Wind’ at Tea In The Library” and “Classic Savings”. She obtained the requisite (and highly priced) Council permits to allow the girls to stand on nearby street corners in their lovely bonnets, with pretty baskets full of our leaflets. What a hit they were! It is one of the few times I have seen passers-by actually approach the leaflets-bearers to request a copy. People were forming queues to talk to Scarlett and Miss Melly.
Meanwhile, back at the shop, we had ordered in some copies of the book, and produced a display featuring the title. In what was probably a serious breach of copyright, we had the movie of Gone With The Wind playing on a television screen, and a GWTW trivia competition with a copy of the DVD as a prize. Plus we discounted our prices across the board by 20%. This was a substantial discount considering that our gross margin was only about 40% maximum. It was the subject of quite a bit of debate between the book staff, Sandy and me. Emma was against sacrificing at such a level; while Sandy insisted that to attract people and compete, we needed a significant (if short-term) drawcard. The view I came to was that it was better to sell a few books at only a 20% margin than to return them to the publishers; plus if we managed to attract people to the shop they might also patronize the café, and also return another day.
The result was, in my view, successful. Book sales doubled in that week — but at that discount, profits, of course, did not. Café sales were up; and we all had a lot of fun. In fact, we had so much fun that, at the end of the day, I was tempted to say of the sales figures, “Frankly, I don’t give a damn”.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sea in the library
We had been open about one year. The Team In The Library at this time was made up of Emma as Books Manager, Damien as Books Assistant, and Paul as Books Assistant (Part Time). Kate was Café Manager, with a team of waitresses including Bea, Catherine and Sabine; and a chef, who changed rather regularly. Plus Sandy, Carly and I constantly trying to rev everyone up with our bright marketing ideas.
This was the period when I felt that we had the most cohesive Team, all loyally committed to Tea In The Library. Which is not to say that they all had exceptional sales skills. There was a tendency to get a bit comfy, especially on the books side. There was a period when I despaired of getting the books staff out onto the sales floor, so caught up were they in back-office work. They seemed to spend so much time poring over catalogues with the sales reps and buying books; “receiving” books into our computer inventory system; unpacking and shelving books; then selecting books which had sat on the shelves too long, and processing them for return to the publishers.
“Guys!” I implored — “you’re skipping a step!”
In the kitchen, Kate had assumed the mantle of control with confidence. She moulded her waitress team with professional flair. Young Catherine was a very young newly-wed who was studying hospitality at Technical College while her equally young husband James worked his way through university, helping out as our kitchen hand from time to time. Catherine was a sweetie who took her job very seriously, although she was able to take Damien’s joking very lightly.
Bea’s surname was “The Fall Of Stars”. A gentle soul, she was a very spiritual person who ran a massage business on the side. She also had a great flair for design, and produced some of our most attractive merchandising displays. Regrettably, we didn’t discover this skill until shortly before we closed. Bea did, however, early on insist that we reconsider the location of the display shelf which was placed directly in front of the entrance door. She said it was bad fung shui, and was blocking the positive flow of energy into the shop. We moved the shelf, but perhaps the damage had been done.
The revolving chef position never attracted anyone for too long. Between incumbents we relied on a temporary staffing agency. Eventually we settled for a time with a Thai chef with Italian training. He was a reliable and competent chap but I never felt that we regained the “flair” we had enjoyed with our more difficult cooks!
Damien had come to us via Emma’s network, to help after Todd left. Although he had bookshop experience, he was not confident in approaching customers and “pushing” sales. He was, however, a great person to have around, and endlessly helpful, staying on until the “bitter end” to help me out.
The Team had many challenges to deal with. Those relating to our rather elderly and decrepit premises were among the most challenging.
The all-pervasive pong from the ladies’ loo became legendary. Repeated calls were made to Craig, the landlord’s agent, and repeated plumbers’ visits followed. The plumbers’ works varied in extent, but not in their failure to solve the problem. To this day, the shop still exudes that distinctive and familiar whiff when I walk by.
Then there was a memorable morning, early on, when we had a booking for twenty for a business breakfast. Louise and Jo were on duty, eggs benedict half-prepared, guests seated and chatting. At this point the electricity failed. A fire in the ancient air-conditioning unit, outside in the back alley, had burnt through the electrical conduit for the shop. We later learnt the sorry tale from the building’s tenant representative, Don. There had been a night of drama, with the fire brigade arriving in the wee small hours, to extinguish a fire thought to have been started by a homeless person in the alley. The other apartments had suffered some smoke and water damage. Tea In The Library, being sealed up, had escaped this;
but our electricity supply was affected, and chose a very inopportune moment to fail. In a great spirit of “the show must go on”, Jo and Louise cooked the breakfast (gas cookers), and served it by candlelight, at 8 am. Real troopers.
I gloss lightly over the concerns about rats in the alleyway, the constant struggle that all Sydneysiders know of keeping the cock-roaches at bay; and our losing battle with those tiny fruit flies that seem to be attracted by alcoholic drinks. But perhaps the single most challenging incident of this kind occurred when we had been operating for about ten months. It was a weekend in August, and Saturday afternoon, with Kate and Paul doing pretty good Saturday business for the café, and maybe selling a few books too. I received a call from Kate at about 1 pm, reporting that water was seeping through some of the light fittings in the shop. A few drips, but worrying, not only from the point of view of the moisture, but also the dangerous combination of moisture and electricity. I made some urgent calls to Craig, and also Don, disturbing their weekend, in an effort to investigate the source of the problem. Every half an hour or so, Kate would report in with an update — matters were deteriorating rapidly, with the water flow now a pour, not just a drip, and gushing from most of the light fittings.
The customers had been seen off the premises and the shop closed early, buckets placed strategically; and as things worsened, books moved or covered with hastily constructed cardboard shields. Café tables and chairs were stacked in one dry corner, and mops deployed. Emma arrived on the scene, and I followed shortly after.
A memorable sight greeted me. The shop dismantled, the floor flooded, water pouring down from the ceiling; and Kate and Emma, one short and one tall, standing side by side, both with arms akimbo, serious faces looking upwards pensively. “Why us?”
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