God's Factory by Terry Morgan - HTML preview

 

GOD'S FACTORY

Terry Morgan

 

 

Copyright 2014 Terry Morgan

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

First published in the United Kingdom in 2014 by TJM Books

www.tjmbooks.com

The right of Terry Morgan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

 

 

 

'God's Factory'

A light-hearted diversion from Terry Morgan’s normal serious fiction!

Arthur Godley, proprietor of Godley's Garden Gnomes and Godley Investments meets his maker in unusual circumstances and, in the process, learns a few costly lessons. A short, twenty first century version of Charles Dickens's "A Christmas Carol".

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

GOD’s FACTORY

 

"I'm Arthur Godley - Godley by name and Godly by nature. Take a pew, mate. I won't be long."

From behind his expansive white desk, Arthur Godley briefly glanced up at his visitor over the top of his tinted spectacles. Noticing that something wasn't quite right, he then pushed them to the top of his head. "Not there, mate. The sofa is reserved for special occasions. This chair here is the one I use for ordinary visitors........Yes, that's the one."

Arthur Godley, proprietor of Godley's Garden Gnomes of Krupton continued to tap away at the keyboard on his desk and then stared at the result on the computer screen.

"That's strange. I tapped in five million and only half a million came up." He tried again. "That's better - must have spilt some coffee on the nought."

He then took a large calculator, tapped some more keys and peered at the result. "Bloody hell. Bless my socks. I've made more than I thought."

He straightened the big knot of his bright red tie, flicked at something invisible on his white shirt with its long, pointed collar and pulled on the gold cuff links. Satisfied that they now pointed in the direction of his guest, he leaned forward and looked at him.

"I understand," he said, "that you've come to find out why the local rag, the Krupton Weekly News and Journal, has started calling me a local business guru, God's gift to Krupton business and the town's economic saviour."

His visitor nodded.

"They are right of course," Godley went on. "But I'm not sure how long you've got and my success might take a while to explain. I can show you my PowerPoint presentation if you like. I show it to all those who want to know why I've succeeded where so many others have failed. However, I usually start my explanation by suggesting a quick peek out of my window."

Godley put his glasses on the desk, pushed his white leather executive swivel chair back, stood up and waded across the thick pile carpet to the biggest of the two windows. He pulled on a cord. "I'll open the Venetian blinds so that you can see the view. Stand up. Come here."

His visitor stood up and walked silently to the window.

"There. Impressive, isn't it.? There's not much that's impressive over the high brick wall, but the landscaping on my side makes the most of the total dereliction that once surrounded us, don't you think? You will notice the contours in the lawn. I had those done while we had use of the JCB bulldozer - they'd left a full tank of diesel and the key was in the ignition. But what do you think of the trees, the shrubs and the flower borders? I always liked sunflowers. They have such big heads and stand above everything else. What do you think of the lawn? Can you smell the freshly cut grass even from behind my double glazing? I always say that springtime is like a new product being launched on the market.

"But that's not all, you know. Oh no. Come to this other window. You see the row of fir trees? Behind them is my lake. The local frogs and toads visit the lake in autumn for their annual nuptials, the lucky sods. There are seventeen goldfish in there and I have a member of staff whose job it is to feed them. I even put it in his job description. 'To ensure all goldfish are kept alive' it says. That way if one dies.......well you understand.

"Oh yes, these landscaped premises are one reason they now call me God. It's a patch of heaven amongst widespread mediocrity." Godley laughed at his joke. "And you know what, mate? I often see the locals peering over the wall or looking through the bars of the gate when they're out walking their dogs. They point up here to my office window and I can see the envy on their faces.

"That's because they're impressed. They see Godley's Garden Gnomes as a success story and assume I'm making big money - which, of course, is very true. This new office of mine is the only decent bit of commercial real estate for miles. If you know how to do it, mate, there are many ways of making it - and then stashing it."

Arthur Godley leaned on the window sill and looked towards the high iron gate in the brick wall that shielded him from the rest of the Krupton Trading Estate. He nodded.

"Yes, I often see them pointing. It's jealousy. There's no shortage of envy around these parts. As I joked to someone in the Red Lion on Sunday lunchtime, it's very green around here - green as in envy, green as in 'around the ears' and green as in naivety.

"The envy is not surprising though, " he went on, "After all, I've now seen all the competition off. It's only me left around here. Most of the other businesses are long gone, boarded up or just falling down. There are 'For Sale' and 'To Let' posters everywhere, but this corner is like an oasis in the desert. Survival of the fittest I call it but I saw it coming years ago, and, unlike the others, planned accordingly. You've got to be born with a nose for business, you've either got it or you haven't.

"I've had it since before I left school. At fourteen I won the prize for enterprise and entrepreneurship, but I had a good head start. I was running the betting circle and they all owed me a fortune, so I told them I'd write their debts off if they let me win."

Arthur Godley smiled at the fond memory. Then he rubbed his hands together.

"So, nice bit of landscaping, isn't it? What do you think, mate? But I'll probably sell up soon and go and live permanently in Spain. I'm getting fed up here with all the youth unemployment and tax. Spain is so much better. I'll miss this view, but not too much. I've already got a villa and a couple of acres near Malaga that I bought from the local mayor for a snip - paperwork signed by him and everything. And it won't be difficult selling this business, oh no."

Godley walked back to his desk and sat down leaving his visitor standing by the window. He shook his head as if about to tell a story with another fond memory.

"Did you know, mate, I bought this place as a rundown old Victorian factory that was losing money making plastic gnomes for front gardens. They had no idea how to make money, you see, but I soon turned things around. There was a lot of sacking to do to start with but it's all the fault of the Chinese. They run things on bloody shoestrings over there. So, if you can't beat them, you join them - that's my philosophy.

"The Chinese aren't exactly known for putting plastic garden gnomes in their front gardens but they certainly know how to make them. And so, flexible! You know, mate, I can get them in any colour, any size, any sort of hat or any colour of hair and eyes. They'll do Chinese gnomes with different eyes and a pigtail if you like and I've got one model that looks like an Irish leprechaun. It went down a treat at Cheltenham Gold Cup week. Another one looks like Prince Philip, the ethnic diversity gnome looks like Barack Obama and I've got a set of four with haircuts that look like the old Beatles. Ringo has a hole in each hand for his drumsticks and Paul has his mouth open like he's singing. I'm thinking of fixing a wire for a recording of 'She Loves You' blaring out. What do you think?

"But the most popular are what I call the Fishing Gnomes that people put around garden ponds. I've got a dozen or more Fishing Gnomes around my lake with spotlights to show customers how Gnomes add a touch of sophistication to a garden. The Fishing Gnomes come with a hole where we fit the fishing rod made out of a stick and a piece of string, so it's not all made in China. We do the finishing off here and all the quality assurance as we take quality very seriously. We don't want any faulty Gnomes out there, oh dear me no.

"You've heard of the Gnomes of Zurich? Well, I'm the Gnome of Krupton. Funny that. don't you think? But anything I want my Chinese supplier to do - he's called Ho, by the way - Ho can do it. All I do is fax Ho a quick sketch and inside a month they're back here as samples for approval."

Godley looked up to see that his visitor was sitting in the chair again.

"That's it, mate," he said, "Make yourself comfortable. What was I saying? Oh yes, talking about Ho. Yes, Ho even made me two gnomes that you can join together, one on top the other, one behind another, lying down or any other combination depending on your taste. I call these my 'Copulating Gnomes'. You'd be surprised how popular they are. Little old ladies love them.

"And another of Ho's own designs is one that pisses into buckets or fountains. All we have to do is fix a short metal tube for a dick and an electric plug. That's where my production team come in. I've got three old guys who were already here when I came, a teenage dick fitter apprentice and my foreman, Alan, who I call the production manager.

"Oh, and if you saw another old guy in the garden that's Cyril. He's way past seventy but he does a bit of weeding and feeds the fish. Cyril's the one with the job specification. I'm putting him onto painting the brick wall next week - nothing fancy, a splash of red paint to save any proper pointing. Might sell up soon, you see."

Godley sighed, put his tinted spectacles on and looked over the top of them at his visitor. "You’re very quiet. I like a quiet person. Shows you're listening. Absorbing the success story.

"Do you like red brick, mate? I don't. The remains of the old red brick factory building are now hidden behind the laurel bushes at the back, out of sight, out of mind. The old red brick factory is where we finish off gnomes and attach the fishing rods, dicks and plugs. Garden gnomes are at the back but garden gnomes are really the front, if you get my gist."

Godley winked at his visitor but got no reaction. "No, don't even ask. I shan't be taking you out there even for a quick look. This new glass and steel office of mine is where the real action is."

Godley pushed his chair back and stood up again. He went towards the window but then looked back over his shoulder at his visitor.

"You're looking at me," he said. "But I've seen that look before. You are thinking that no-one can make money from plastic garden gnomes, aren't you? But as that old song says, 'It ain't what you do but the way that you do it.' You heard that song before? That song could have been written for me."

Godley turned and came back a few steps.

"Another song is 'Happiness, happiness'. You remember Ken Dodd? He sang it because he thought he'd got around the Inland Revenue by not paying his tax."

Godley then stood with his thumb to his mouth like a microphone.

"Happiness, happiness," he tried to sing, "The greatest gift that I possess. I thank the Lord that I've been blessed. With more than my share of happiness. Remember dear old Ken now? He was a bit premature with that song because they caught up with him, didn't they? He didn't have a business head on him, you see. He should have stuck to jokes and his tickling stick. Poor old Ken should have asked me. Never sing about it, mate, I would have told him. Keep it quiet. Be clever with it. Stick it somewhere, preferably under a foreign mattress."

Godley sat down, exhausted by his singing. He swung around one full circle in his white leather executive chair.

"You know another of my most popular sayings? Go on try......Oh well. Money is where the money's stashed - that's what I say. Got it mate? Wink, wink and say no more, eh?" Arthur Godley nodded, winked and grinned all at the same time, but if his visitor nodded then it was barely perceptible.

"But you know the secret of a successful modern business, mate?" Godley asked as his winking subsided. "Diversification. Diversify or die I always say. Sometimes I say die or diversify, but it's all the same. And do you know how I do diversifying? Do you? The garden gnomes and the old factory at the back is the front. I think I already mentioned that before. But you get my meaning? No, it's the front for Godley Investments.

"It's amazing what you can offset against a business that's losing money if you're clever. You see once I'd set up Godley Investments things really took off. Clowns wanting to buy me out are like bees around a honey pot nowadays."

Arthur Godley stopped. He stared at his visitor again. His visitor was staring back and, as far as Godley could recall, he'd still said nothing since his arrival. It was very unusual. Godley coughed, perhaps nervously, and stuck a finger inside his shirt collar to release a neck hair that had got stuck. Then he took a deep breath.

"You're looking at me. I hope it's not a look of envy. But perhaps, like me, you enjoy listening to a successful entrepreneur explaining how it's done. Perhaps you feel you are enjoying the company of someone from whom you can learn a thing or two, relaxing in his sumptuous office, seeing how entrepreneurship, enterprise, hard work, ingenuity and touches of inspired genius can be turned into wealth. I assume you saw my Bentley parked by the front door."

Godley paused, fiddled with his watch strap next to the matching gold cuff links.

"On the other hand," he paused a little longer. "I can see from your old suit that you're not a high-flying businessman from the financial sector. Are you perhaps a landscape gardener? Do you work for the Council? Because if so let me tell you something. Do you know there is a plan to sow wild flower seeds on that patch of waste ground next to the Quick Fit car repair shop? You believe that? God help us, I thought. What is the world coming to? As soon as I heard I phoned Krupton Council. 'What the fuck's going on.' I said, 'It'll end up looking like some of the residents around here - unkempt.' You know what I mean? So if you work for the Council go back and tell them.

"Now, you've seen my Lawson's Cypress trees by the lake, what do you think? I like evergreen trees. I had a maple tree once but the bloody thing turned bright scarlet in the autumn and dropped leaves everywhere. I soon got that tree sorted - you're sitting on it right now. Fir trees, that's what they need - trimmed ones so that the rubbish from McDonalds is held back and doesn't fly into the road, onto the Krupton Estate and then blow down here to my gate."

Godley laughed, got up and went to the window again.

"But the scene from my picture window wasn't always like that, you know. I may appear to be a tough, no nonsense businessman with a proven track record but I have my softer side." He sighed emotionally, looked out onto the garden

"I'm a great follower of natural history. I've got a book on dinosaurs at home. A few million years ago, you would have seen dinosaurs, sabre toothed tigers and bloody great woolly elephants with long tusks out there beyond the brick wall. They dug up a bone or two on the common a while back so there must have been a jungle around here at some time. Wild beasts probably prowled right where my sunflowers are and big gorillas probably sat thumping their chests right where my desk is now. Can you imagine that?

"If you stand here at the window looking out with your eyes closed as I sometimes do, you can imagine such prehistoric scenes. The book I've got has a colour picture of a bloody great Tyrannosaurus Rex looking down on a frightened little creature that looks like it knows its time is up. On the next page, the T Rex is standing on its hind legs bellowing to the jungle with steam coming out of its mouth telling everyone he's just had his breakfast and is now on the lookout for lunch. All you can see on the grass is a pool of blood. I like that T Rex and I read that book a lot. There are lots of pictures in it."

Arthur Godley turned away from the window and returned to his desk and swivel chair. He looked at his quiet visitor whom he now noticed looked unshaven. It was hardly designer stubble, more like three days untrimmed growth. His suit, he concluded, was probably off the peg, Marks and Spencer, and the unpolished brown, lace-up shoes probably from Clark's. He was sitting with his feet in the Clark's shoes side by side just off the carpet, his knees together and his white hands in his lap. But at least he was listening, not interrupting, taking it all in, learning and showing respect. Also, Godley was pleased to see, he looked impressed, but he’d hardly moved.

Godley made a play of looking at his gold watch, checking the time.

"Sorry about the natural history lecture, mate, but the role of a business guru is to teach and enlighten on many diverse subjects which have influenced his success. And we all need to know where we come from so we can plot a way forward. Everyone needs a starting point and I always think mine goes way back to the time of that T Rex. I often sit here imagining bloody great lizards with red and green scales, sharp teeth and big jaws plundering along between the giant ferns in search of the next snack.

"Thinking about it, things probably haven't changed much. The bigger you are, the sharper your teeth, the deadlier your grip, then the more likely you are to survive. It's the far-seeing eyes, the nimble legs, the keen sense of smell to sniff out prey. Sniff it out and snuff it out I always say."

He leaned back in his chair and swivelled one more full circle.

"So, that's enough from me on the subject of survival of the fittest, but I like to start with a warm up. Are you going to take notes? Where shall we start? I'm sure you'll say we need to start at the beginning, how I made my first million. Am I right?"

Perhaps Arthur Godley's visitor nodded, perhaps not, but Godley thought he saw a slight movement, which was enough.

"I'm sure you'll say we need to start with the question everyone asks when they come in here for advice and mentoring - how did I, Arthur Godley, God's gift to Krupton business and the town's economic saviour, start out on his epic journey."

"Well.............," he leaned back, shut his eyes and smiled as if having an erotic dream. "Just like that original God I started with a blank sheet of paper. That old God had already done his bit by creating heaven and earth. Also, a fair bit of the water he had created had already flowed under the bridge when I got here. So, it was up to me to pick up the pieces and do what I could with the basics he'd provided.

"I was luckier than that old God in one respect I suppose. At least the land and sky was already in place and I didn't have to bother about an unmarried couple with no clothes on hanging around the place looking for advice and handouts.

"But let me tell you something. If I was that first old God, I'd have told that couple to go and get a job and stop hanging around the park under the trees. Have you ever seen pictures of them, mate? They look so pathetic. It's as if they don't know what to do or where to start. But they soon started fucking around. Bred like rabbits. Frankly, between you and me, pal, we've got thousands of their relatives hanging around Krupton. Bloody dozens of them hang around our local park smoking and drinking. And did you pass that run down disused church hall with the 'for sale' sign when you came here? If so, you'd have seen them. There's usually a dozen or more, except on Thursdays when their state handouts are due. Then they disappear like magic for an hour.

"No, we've got too many single mothers and absent fathers who fuck around and leave us to pick up the pieces of their indiscretions. I get fed up with it don't you, mate? We all arrive on this earth with no clothes on but these people still have nothing. What do they expect? Charity? Do they really expect the rest of us to provide them with clothes and a roof over their head in a rent-free heaven and earth surrounded by ripe apples falling off bloody trees? They were brought up wrong in my opinion. That old God has a lot to answer for.

"Now don't get me going, mate, but If I'd been that old God who found that original naked couple sat around cluttering up the place I'd have got really mad and taken it as a sign of things to come. I'd have factored it into my business plan.

"That old God made several stupid mistakes but let me tell you one. First, he should have listened to me. My advice would have been to sit and think a bit more before making his move. If I'd been him I'd have concluded that this wasn't a good place to start a business and gone off and tried it somewhere else. But he never asked me and now you can see the result of his short-sightedness. You know where you can see it best? The bloody park and the bloody church hall."

Arthur Godley, seriously agitated, mopped his brow with a red spotted handkerchief he'd dragged from his pocket.

"Go there and you'll see what I'm talking about. Not content with fresh apples from the tree they prefer the fermented sort. They sit there with their stomachs full of apples in the form of Bulmer's Cider and smoking things which only partly look like cigarettes. Nowadays they wear clothes and seem to have enough money to also own a dog, but in that old God's day they wore nothing but a fig leaf.

"No, if that old God had asked me I'd have suggested he start a business consultancy. I could have shown him how to do it if I wasn't so busy. In fact, I hate business consultants, but it would stop that old God asking questions and interfering with my day to day.

"And don't get me going on business consultants, either. I've had them in here, sat right there where you are, mate, trying to tell me how to run my own business. Want to save money? Want to sell more? Want to know about health and safety? Want to know about clean and mean manufacture? They want to teach me! Can you believe it? I'm clean and mean already. I don't need any of their fancy advice. Look at me, I'm already successful.

"Oh yes, I really hate bullshit. That old God must have been good at bullshit to have got away with it. But he was bloody good salesman, I have to admit.

"Did you know there are still millions of people out there who still believe he heads up some big corporation from a fancy office floating somewhere up near the International Space Station? I hear he's even registered the trade name, 'God in Heaven'. Got to take your hat off to the old bloke, but he's definitely made a few mistakes along the way. The place is littered with examples of bad management. Do you want to hear about some of his mistakes?"

Arthur Godley shot a quick look at his visitor who was still sitting, staring at him. Entranced thought Godley. He looked overwhelmed as he absorbed so much knowledge and experience. Must charge next time thought Godley and he checked his watch again. Christ! An hour gone already and he was getting thirsty. He did a quick mental calculation of probable hourly charges of gurus, but then checked himself. Might he be able to invoice even more as an after-dinner speaker? Dinner jacket? Top table? Applause? Surrounded by admirers? He snapped out of it.

"Yes," he went on, "That old God's mistakes. I could provide a long list but do you know his biggest problem?" Godley paused for effect. "Overstaffed. He runs interviews for washed up individuals and those who have already given up hope. Big mistake, mate, because nearly everyone he interviews gets a bloody job. He's got far too many staff and hangers on now - millions of them. Anyone who runs a business knows that never works. No, overstaffing truly fucks up his bottom line

"And he's got a mate who takes on any of the few unsuccessful applicants. They're in cahoots I reckon. Keep your competitors at arm's length, that's my view. But this other mate of his is a bit of a wide boy who cuts corners I understand - no health and safety, bad working conditions, no hard hats - not even a fire drill.

"As I've said, it's the old God's personal weaknesses that really bother me. You can't afford weak links in a business. If you have a few weak links within your own character then you self-diagnose, pinpoint them and deal with them. That's never applied to me, of course, as there are no weak points, but if, in the remote likelihood there were some, then, and only then, might I recruit, but not from any dubious agency. Word of mouth, that's my preference. The Red Lion is a good place to start."

Godley took a deep breath, picked up his gold Parker pen and pointed at his visitor.

"Here's another example," he went on, wagging the Parker as if it was his finger, "You can't run a business by being kind hearted. I admit that everyone needs to show a social conscience now and again - I gave fifty pence to a nice little girl guide in her uniform the other day - but you can't be expected to do it every day.

"And another example of my caring human side was when I tipped the waiter two quid the other night even though the fool had served up a steak that was completely undercooked. He said I'd ordered steak tartar. I said 'fuck that mate, I thought I'd ordered a steak starter. No, you bring me a piece of proper English beef. I hate anything French.'

"No, mate, showing a social conscience might be useful sometimes but a mean streak is essential. A mean streak means you stay ahead of the competition."

Godley scratched his head with the Parker and licked his drying lips. Nothing had passed his lips since lunchtime. It was now five o'clock according to his Rolex and the Red Lion beckoned. Not only that but he had left a six pack of Carling Black Label on the back seat of the Bentley downstairs. But he felt he had a duty to his silent visitor to give him a few more pearls of commercial wisdom. The man had sat in rapt attention for a good hour now and, as he was clearly up for more of the deeper side of Godley's business philosophy, he decided to continue on the same track

"And another thing about that old God," he went on, "I can't see him having a garden like mine, can you?" Godley stopped, suddenly realising he may have exhausted most of the religious side of his business philosophy.

"But, where was I?" he paused. "Ah, yes, explaining how I started and why I've been so successful. After all, you're here to learn." He leaned back in the swivel chair and glanced at the drinks cabinet in the corner.

"It's all down to hard work and perseverance," he said. "My vocation began with a vision, you know. Oh yes. And that vision started with just a few ideas jotted down on a blank sheet of paper. I can just imagine how that old God felt. Like me the poor sod couldn't have had