by Oliver Rill
It all took about an hour. My documents were returned and Ad excused himself, he had a lunch date and we, of course, had places to get to.
“Oh god, Oli. Isn’t it all so terribly exciting?” In the Jaguar I had to adjust everything. Once I had dealt with the seat, steering wheel and mirrors, we investigated the functions on the instrument panel. The most important to me was the satnav. I set it up even though I roughly knew the short journey to the hotel.
“Marie, do you think you can drive the Mustang and we will drop it off on our way, or do you want to keep it a while?”
“I will follow you and we’ll drop it off. But drive slowly, huh? I’ll take a taxi in the morning.”
The Jag purred like a kitten and was well sprung. Not air-sprung, but very comfortable and it pulled away from junctions nimbly. I did like it even though I actually thought that Lincolns were the car to have in America … but hey! You don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, even if it was a bit old – ten years at least.
I stopped in front of the hotel. Marie went in and had the car driven out of the garage. She called over to me that she had to adjust everything before we drove off and that I was to drive really slowly! First, she opened the roof, then then adjusted the make-up mirror – no – I meant the rear mirror. Then finally she gave me a wave. We were off. In the meantime, I had set the satnav - that was really crazy – I could give it directions by speaking to it. I said, “Budget Rent A Car” and it showed a map to click on and that was it! Job done.
Marie dropped the car off and I went in to help her. Then we climbed back into my new toy and drove on to Hollywood. The surrounding countryside was beautiful and houses too. Eventually we were there. A tall wall with a tall, wooden gate obscuring all view from outside. I fished for the keys in the bag and found a remote. The gate swung to the side and I drove the few meters to come to a stop in front of the garage. The house was unbelievable. Modern – roughly the 70s era, I would say. Its windows were strange, narrow slits. Almost like arrow-slits. I found it cold and uninviting. I located the keys and opened the door. My prejudices were suddenly blown away.
“Oh wow! What a lounge! What a view!”
The house was bare of furniture we entered onto a dark, stone floor that wasn’t quite even, but gave the impression of waxed flagstones. White painted brick work walls punctuated with full length windows looked out onto the garden. The two steps down marked the border between lobby and lounge. The terrace was lovely. There was a small pool, (empty of water). The pool backed on to the terrace on one side and the path that led around it on the other with a few bushes behind it and that was it - a pocket handkerchief garden. You had a lovely view of Los Angeles. It was really a dream.
We inspected the kitchen that faced the front and had those narrow windows that we had seen as we came in. It didn’t seem to impact on the light in the kitchen though as the unpretentious kitchen was quite light even if it wasn’t brand new. It contained a dish washer. That was important. There was a pantry to the left and a laundry room to the right both with the arrow slit windows which did provide both light and air but weren’t designed to look out of.
I realized that the house had many different levels. You could end up in a nasty accident, if you wandered around in the dark. The master bedroom was on the lower floor. It wasn’t quite the cellar as the house was built on a hill and natural light came in from the small terrace with the same view as upstairs. What I found a little disturbing was that you could see directly into the bedroom from the stairs. There was no door. Or was there? There were four doors, just not one to the stairs. The first door was a walk-in wardrobe. The second lead you into a bathroom, that also faced the small terrace. It would be the ultimate kick to lie there in the bath and look at the view of the city. The third door, to the left of the stairs led to … aha! The master bedroom! The room in front was a snug. A room to lay about in your PJs in comfort while the lounge above was more formal.
There were two more guest rooms upstairs that lay above my room. Did I want a study in this house? Or not? No I’d rather have visitors and then go to work in the office.
It was a shame that I didn’t have paper and pen to hand. I would have liked to do a sketch of the layout of the house so that I could look at furniture. Marie took lots of photos, maybe which would help.
When we were finished we stood outside, I had locked the house again and said to Marie. “It’s perfect!” I really had fallen in love with it and could imagine how it would look when it was fully furnished. It was built in the same style as my aunt’s house in Schwanenwerder, which I had always loved, I told her.
Marie herself thought the garden was too small, but apart from that, thought it was fantastic. “Is it yours too?” she asked.
“It belongs to the company”, I grinned. “Oh God. Can we furnish it today and move in? I am just dying to!”
“I think you are going to have to wait a while! But if you have time … or maybe I do, we can keep an eye out for furniture. Have you got a style in mind?”
“I want it light, white and blue or maybe gray … or white with turquoise and gray. Clean and fresh!”
“I can see that … But we’re not in Greece!”
“Nor Barvaria!” I laughed, thinking of the national colors of that German state. “But that’s how I want it.”
We climbed in our beautiful Jag and carefully backed out. It was a little difficult because of the wall and the curve in the road. If another car was speeding as I came out, it could be dangerous. Nothing could turn around in the driveway itself, unless it was a wheelbarrow. You could of course back in, and drive out without turning. Or set up a camera with a screen to see what was coming along the road. That would make the most sense. I would have to speak to someone about that, or get my much needed assistant onto it.
We drove back into town, pushing through the L.A. traffic. It took a while to reach Venice and was four o’clock before we reached the building. It was empty. It must have been about three or four blocks from the sea. A simple three story building with a drive that went in one side and out the other. Very useful for deliveries or drop offs.
Marie and I entered and after a short discussion, went straight to the top. The empty building was a little spooky, being designed as it was for whole companies. Our steps echoed and we looked around at bare walls and floors. From the top you had a wonderful view of the beach and beyond that the sea and through the windows. I could imagine a good atmosphere here when the building was full of life. We hurried through and then went down to the promenade to get an ice.
“What shall we do now?”
“Shall we go to the mall and ask about furniture stores? Or do you think Ad will send an interior designer?”
“I’d do it myself. Firstly, you get what you want and secondly, it gives a good impression when you are seen to do things yourself.”
“You are right Marie. Come on, let’s go furniture shopping!”
Once in the mall, we had a quick bite to eat and the sweet girl from Marie’s cosmetic store let us know of a furniture house that was a couple of blocks away.
I called Ad.
“Oliver, Tell me you love the house! No. I know you love it!”
"It’s a dream! I can’t wait to get in it. Can I move in tonight?”
“It will take a little bit longer than that, but I will try to get hold of Debbie, she will help you.”
“I am just about to go to a furniture store and look for stuff, if I am really allowed to use the house?”
“Listen, Oliver. You can go and look at stuff if you want, but let Debbie do it. She is perfect for it. She is quick and doesn’t charge more than the furniture stores. I will call her to see if she has time. If you do it yourself, you won’t get the sofa for eight weeks, the table tomorrow and no lamps for six months! So wait for Debbie. I’ll tell her to call you. What did you think of Venice?”
“It’s a great place, Ad, and I can imagine the company working well there. It’s also not far
from the airport.”
“Ok. So Oliver, as I thought. We will leave the two buildings in the inventory and you won’t need to sort out real estate. Enjoy your evening. Regards to Marie and wait for Debbie!”
I hung up and looked at Marie, somewhat thwarted in my intentions. “Shall we … I am hungry, we have hardly eaten today. Dessert? Or do you want to share a meal?”
Debbie didn’t take long. As long as it took us to get the pancakes with fresh fruit that we found nearby.
She sounded like your quintessential, up-and-coming American. “Ad called and said you have an emergency in Hollywood.”
I gave a grin. Sure. When a multibillionaire says jump, you ask how high. That is luxury. That is power. I explained to Debbie that I had to furnish a house very, very quickly. I am normally quite shy and retiring, but when I saw that so much is possible with Ad, I asked myself if that was a good strategy. I didn’t necessarily need to be too cheeky. So I held back a little and just wasn’t the easy going guy I normally was.
“Ok can we meet at the house tomorrow?” she asked.
“I’d like to meet you there in an hour.” She agreed. I could imagine her rolling her eyes and probably had to bite her tongue, but I wanted to be tough.
Marie and I drove over to the house after finishing the pancakes. We sat on the ground and grinned. “Oh, Oli. I am so pleased for you. I really hope this works out as it should.” Debbie came. She looked … plastic! She made a good show of being open and friendly, but I was sure she was seething inside.
She made notes and measured all over; asked questions and took photos and then asked:
“When do you need it ready by?”
“I guess two hours is a bit soon, isn’t it?” I joked.
That was too much. The real Debbie snapped into position. She would do what she could, but she wasn’t a magician. She would work out a plan tonight and show me tomorrow. The house could be ready Friday at the earliest, but probably not till Saturday.
“Saturday? You are joking?” I asked. The temperature dropped dramatically between Debbie and myself.
“Maybe with a bit of luck on my side I can get it done Friday, but I can’t promise anything.” She reiterated in icy tones.
“Saturday is quicker than I expected, Debbie. I am impressed. How about you come to JB Homes tomorrow and show me what you have. If you are as good as Ad says you are, you will be free of me in no time at all, and I will be a happy man.”
“Oh that is what you meant. Sorry. I misunderstood and was just about to tear my hair out. Saturday will definitely be fine.”
It was agreed. Debbie left and Marie and I stood for a moment in the house silently, absorbing the atmosphere, before we left for the hotel again. “I can’t believe it all. It’s like a dream. And I can’t believe that WE will be moving in Sunday!
The next morning I left at nine a.m. I had woken early again and Marie had joined me for breakfast. I think she had a lie down before she left for her shopping trip. I told her to keep an eye out for a cool store for me. I would need a few more things than the clothes I hurriedly packed for the original ten day trip.
At JB Homes I was led into the conference room again. Coffee and the tickets for Las Vegas were laid in front of me and I was asked which hotel I wanted to stay that night in. I asked if the tickets for the return flight could be changed as I wanted to spend Sunday in L.A. and mentioned that I was expecting Debbie.
I wasn’t sure if how much I should expect. I felt a little like a child testing the barriers. I wanted to show my leadership skills and that I know what I want and I knew how to get it, on the one hand and on the other, I was torn by my upbringing to be more modest and humble.
“When is Doug due in?” I wanted to know.
“Doug is already here, but he wasn’t expecting you until 11. Should I call him?”
“No, leave it. I have to make a call anyway.”
I was alone and called Aristo in London. “Hey Buddy, how are you?” I asked. “Are you sitting down?”
I told him the story and he was gob smacked. I should make the most of the opportunity and forget London, he insisted. I told him to get his passport ready, I would send him a ticket as soon as I could see what was going on here. Yes, of course, he would love to visit.
In the meantime I had out a pile of printed applications in front of me. I asked the lady who brought them to me if that was it and she said no. “Where are the rest?” I wanted to know and she informed me that these were shortlisted by qualifications. I asked her to bring me the rest. I wanted to see them all. I am sure I fleetingly saw the “oh-boy-there-is-another-idiot” look on her face, but I didn’t care. She didn’t know my criteria for an assistant, so couldn’t shortlist for me.
I worked steadily through the pile, making notes on a pad as I read. I wrote down those important qualities that I thought an assistant should have. The more applications I read, the fuller my pad got. So I decided to go through them all again before I shortlisted.
One application in a folder had caught my eye earlier and had again come onto the pile of ‘maybe’s that were left after the second time around. Matt Fowler did look extremely attractive. He was 28 and worked at Delta while he finished a business administration degree. He had of course applied to JB Homes and not to an airline, but he did seem to be someone who could do the job and had experience within the airline industry. I hesitated only briefly and then pulled out my blackberry, dialed his number and got him on the phone.
“Matt? My name is Oliver. I am calling from JB Homes. You applied for a job with us a while ago. Do you remember?”
Matt was out of breath. He apologized and asked if he could ring back in an hour but I didn’t want to be fobbed off.
“Matt, where can I meet you right now?”
“I am in the gym at the moment and it’s not really a good time.”
“After the gym, come to JB Homes in Westwood. Ask for Oliver Hoffmann at reception. I’ll expect you around 12.”
“Oh, OK, thank you Mr Hoffmann. I will be there at 12. I promise.”
So I had my first interview scheduled and Matt would almost certainly be running around like a headless chicken and go home to spruce himself up like a Christmas dinner. Ad wandered in. “I hear you’ve been busy.” He said with wonder
“Oh yes. I have an interview in a while. I have a personal question for you Ad. I always have more friendly relationships in my working life, it doesn’t matter what position they have. I always try to be on personal terms with colleagues and subordinates alike. Up till now that has worked well for the most part. Very few have misunderstood or have tried to use it to their advantage. What do you do?”
Ad was pleased that I was asking, I think. “Do you want my advice as mentor? In my experience, you have to see the difference between those people who you have to trust and those you don’t. I mean the key people, those who you disclose strategies and confidential business information to. They have to be your close friends. You have to be able to trust them one hundred percent – like a brother or sister – even if they don’t have a marked financial interest in the company. Everyone else, no matter what position, have to work. They have to complete their work well and be good at their job. Nothing more. What position are you interviewing for?”
“I am looking for an assistant as you suggested yesterday.”
“Oh that is very important, Oliver. The assistant has to be as close as your wife. Ah, you are … well as close as your husband then. Excuse me, I am not so au fait with how you say these things. Anyway, you have to trust her in everything. After your accountant, it’s your most important position. You have to take great care in picking her out. Is that the folder? Let’s see … when is she coming?”
Ad read through the application and dropped it on the table. He patted me on the shoulder and was about to go.
“No comment?” I asked quickly before he could disappear through the door.
“The application looks good. But he’s very young
. I’ll try to be there by twelve. If I am late, draw it out a bit.”
I was a little relieved that the great Ad Bass was taking a bit of time for my assistant. I am sure that didn’t happen every day, and I wanted to learn as much as I could from him, but I would have to remember to stay true to myself at the same time. I noticed a change in my outlook already. Up till now, I had always had to be careful and stop myself from taking unnecessary risks. Now, with the power of a multibillionaire behind me, I didn’t have to wait for weeks, just a few hours, it seemed and what I wanted landed in my lap.
“Ah, OIiver, Doug is about to join you. I have just been in to see him. Take a look at your bank account when you can!” Ad winked at me from the doorway as he put his head in again quickly.
Doug was in fine spirits, because as he admitted, he was happy to be back doing his old job at JB Homes. He brought his laptop and told me I would be getting one soon, but for the moment, he wanted to show me the administration software for Can Am.
I was over the moon. You could see everything, you just had to remember how to do it. You could look at and assess every single figure to do with the airline. From the up till now miserable sales figures, down to the availability of a particular seat on a particular day on a particular flight. I could even see where the booking came from and how much commission the travel agent made. Flights by route, times, days of the week, delays, profitability of the individual flights. Everything could be evaluated accurately and thoroughly.
There wasn’t any software for personnel since that went through JB Homes, but that could be installed.
I asked about marketing campaigns so far and Doug said he could only tell me about them in outline from the bills, but Claire from the marketing department would have the detail. And then came my big question. “Doug, is it possible to change the name of the airline?”
Doug pushed back from the table, removed his glasses and looked at me aghast. “Have you any idea how long it takes and what it costs to get accepted by the FAA? The answer to your question is short and sharp. No - it isn’t possible.”