"Tony's" Computers

I remember working for "Tony's" Computer shop back in 2001. I was there for about 2/3 months. The story went like this:

It was about March / April 2001 when I left my employment with the first computer shop I worked at. I had been there since late August 1998. We were a decent outfit and I was pleased that I offered an honest service rather than simply extorting customers who knew no better. If a problem could be rectified without the need to spend money I would give that advice. It meant they'd trust me and return when a bigger job came along. This was my formula and it worked. I remembered taking custom away from "Tony's" Computers after they reported to me that they had been ripped off.

I was working at a pub between these two jobs and enjoying what I was doing there. One day I decided to pay a visit to "Tony's" Computers and had a discussion with the owner, "Tony," about my history at a rival business and the possibility of working for him. It was a key conversation in my life as I recall and one of the times I really put myself across confidently. I handed my notice in at the pub soon after and it was a real shame to let that bar job go since I was growing into it. I started working for Tony around August time of 2001 and it started out not too bad. I had a lot of advice to give and saw major problems with the business from after the first week or two. Looking back this was where my problems started. He didn't really want someone who could transform the operation into a successful one. There was one other employee there beside Tony who I will call “Nigel.” Nigel had been there a lot longer, maybe 2 or 3 years, and Nigel had the sort of thinly veiled disdain for Tony that one might see in a long suffering married couple. When we went up to the workshop in private he unloaded his frustration on to me similar to how Victor Meldrew on One Foot in the Grave might. I quickly saw why.

We would work 10am – 6pm Tuesday – Saturday. I drove a 1984 brown Mini 1000 at that time which I parked behind the shop. Tony drove a red VW Golf with a disproportionately large double exhaust pipe that made it sound like a tuk-tuk. A fitting vehicle to a man who existed on so many levels in life; some real and some not so real. We would go into the front of the shop, Tony would lift the shutters and we went in through the front door. The first port of call would be the back kitchen where tea would be made. A stainless steel teapot with a flippy lid was used with three tea bags to deliver our eye opener after the journey to work. The back kitchen also housed a small lavatory and a back exit door leading to the unremarkable and neglected yard so contrasted by the presentable frontages of the High Street businesses. We converged earlier on Tuesdays because we were required to participate in one of Tony's so called “progress meetings.” A vacuous event where we would sit at the back desk of the shop with notepads and the boss would demand to find out why we haven't figured out a way to make him a millionaire. This type of information he hopes to garner from two men who are paid the heady sum of £700 by cheque once a month. I had already discovered this guy was unwilling to change his way of working, therefore without taking the first step to allowing me to help him there was nothing I could do to help. This made the whole purpose of my being employed a waste. My message during my interview was that I can transform the business into a trusted one through delivering honest customer care. Days were filled with myself, Tony and Nigel being on a cyclic rota of working the front end of the shop, the back end of the shop or the first floor workshop. The upstairs was a mess. Shelves stacked up with empty retail boxes that needed to be thrown away. How would I ever achieve that if I was not allowed to change anything? What was I here for? The actual mechanics of the upstairs workshop was simple. Regardless of the competence of any owner / boss the PCs themselves would always work, fail and be fixed in the same way. This was the straight forward part. One of my friends whom I met in the first shop and still see today, “David,” also frequented this shop whilst I was here and we had some enjoyable exchanges whilst I was working there. The most notable of these was one morning when myself and David were stood in the front of the shop floor talking when a disgruntled customer came in. He demanded to speak to Tony and after a short while a scuffle broke out in the shop. David always was a hands on character and stepped in to help slamming this guy up against the a display board on the wall that had assorted items hanging from hooks. He told him to get out of here because he “didn't want anyone getting hurt.” A nice way of handling the situation and off the customer went but not after scooping a large quantity of CDROMs onto the floor smashing at least one in five. Good old David, I say. Naturally I was was quite taken aback by this incident and it started me wondering why this never occurred in my previous shop. Maybe because I didn't fleece the customers? Was it because I did an honest job? Yes. The training from Tony regarding how to work the front shop floor “sales” was as follows: “Don't do NOTHING except concentrate on sales,” said Tony. Being a disobedient gobshite “shirt” I disagreed. Was this what I came to the business for? To sell things to people regardless of whether it was suitable or necessary? No way! So this pattern continued for the weeks and months I was there. One day I was upstairs in the workshop when I heard about a plane crash in New York. I was surprised and this news turned out to be my discovery of the 9/11 terror attacks. Now we know where I was at the time it was taking place. Another time not long before or after then another ruckus started down in the shop whilst myself and Nigel were working upstairs. Another angry customer set upon Tony and this time with no David to step in! Oh dear. We stood together listening to the affair unfold like a excerpt from Rik and Ade's 90s sitcom “Bottom” complete with shrugs and cringes as the thuds and smashes were heard coming up from below. When it all went quiet we came down to see what happened and there he was. Tony with bloody nose dabbing with handkerchief but vehemently chastising us for not coming down to defend him. I mean what are we paid all this money for? Ha ha ha!!! Do you really want us to answer that question?

One day in September or October of 2001 I walked into another inane so called “progress meeting.” Except this time I was met with a broadside of criticism from Tony for failing to deliver the promise of business transformation. It was between 09:30 and 10:00am that morning and a pleasant autumnal day at that. Realising like I had a while previously that this man had no intention of taking any advice and, moreover, did not even capitalise on a defection from a more successful and popular rival business, I had one option left: I walked calmly through the back kitchen area, opened the door to the back yard, got into my brown Mini 1000 and drove back to Woolston.