WEEKEND COLUMNISTS I don’t employ many men. Two, to be precise. I should probably employ more because they are extremely handy, especially when it comes to changing light bulbs or carrying large containers of water upstairs.
These days our main business employs 16 people and so the two males have 14 female colleagues. It takes a brave man to come to work with all these women each day, and an even braver one to go away with them for a night or two. We usually organise an off-site meeting for the senior team once a year to discuss company strategy. Afterwards, the rest of our colleagues join us for dinner and some socialising, which gives everyone a chance to escape the office and spend time with colleagues when there’s no work to be done.
Last year, after the best 12 months the business has had, we decamped to the Four Seasons in Hampshire – the lap of luxury, with Frette sheets and in-room satellite TV. This year, we were looking for an option that was cheaper but still a treat: not easy. Fortunately my Ducal Girlfriend has just fitted out one of the rooms in her house with audio-visual kit for exactly our kind of event, so off we went.
It is a good thing for all businesses to stop once a year, reflect on the past 12 months and look ahead to the next 12 and more. Usually, I present the year’s financial results at the start, and I did so again this time. We haven’t had our most stellar year and although we remain cash-positive and profitable the figures didn’t make for very happy reading, especially when set against the previous year.
So I delivered two other presentations alongside the numbers. The first was a long series of photographs of all the people our business had worked with over the past year. Businesses are about making money but all their transactions involve people; the human story is a powerful complement to the financial story. Second, I dug out pictures of ourselves from the past 12 months – from our non-winning netball team to our Christmas party – and had the sequence set to music. People, not just profits.
DG may be a friend, but this was a commercial transaction. Belvoir Castle doesn’t have Frette sheets or in-room satellite TV, but then it doesn’t cost as much as the Four Seasons. It does, however, have four-poster beds and art worth several millions of pounds on the walls, and it is so large that during the day, when there were schools visiting and other things going on, it still felt as if we had the place to ourselves. In the evenings, we really did. And, best of all, it has a karaoke machine, which we put to good use in the library after dinner in the State Dining Room.
DG gave a rousing on-message speech to the troops, which was so impressive that I suggested she join the motivational speaking circuit. She (a former Guildhall School of Music and Drama student) then kicked off the karaoke for us with “Daydream Believer” by the Monkees. They don’t include a singing duchess in the price at the Four Seasons.
But she had long departed for bed when we hit the 1am crisis: we ran out of drink. This can be very demotivating for a team in full karaoke mode and so I volunteered to find fresh supplies.
It was at this point that I remembered why we employ men. They are very useful for accompanying you through dark, echoing castle hallways with suits of armour lining the walls as you search for (a) light switches and (b) chilled white wine. We eventually found our way through a kitchen into the restaurant that is used by the public. The fridge contained six bottles of wine that were all partially open, presumably to be sold by the glass. We carried them back to the library to be greeted with a heroes’ welcome. Shared memories and men. Both very useful for any business.
