Buying a restaurant (part 1)

Driving up through Cwm Bychan at 6 in the morning is pretty awe inspiring and if you've never done it, I would recommend. The sun is rising with its crown now visible, creeping upwards as if scaling the surrounding mountains. Spring is turning into summer, there's a warmth to the air, a freshness still, but definite warmth and the birds are singing as the mountain flowers open up to welcome the new day. It's 1998 and I'm set to be 25 in September, a quarter of a century done, 3 gorgeous daughters and a reasonably happy marriage. I'm in the middle of sitting my final exams at Bangor Uni but right now I'm off to work.

Cwm Bychan

I'm painting a house in the middle of nowhere, there's a couple of them here to do and if I take my time I can get two to three weeks work out of the job. They're going to be holiday lets and belong to a friend of Gordon 'Gogs' Howie. Gogs is my 'go to' guy, he's looked after me more than most over the years by employing me in his TV shop, housing me in his flat and generally being there whenever I need a helping hand. I owe the guy a great deal of thanks as even after years of no contact I've rang him and he's helped, it's much appreciated! 

The shop downstairs and flat I rented above

Anyhow, my plan is to paint till about 11 as I've got to be in my second job by 11:30 at the chippy in Harlech, that one involves waiting on, peeling spuds and washing dishes. This is the best of my jobs pay wise, the best freedom wise too as I'm the only person within a 5 mile radius (or so it feels) and the best for thinking time. I'm thinking about buying a restaurant you see, trying to come up with a magical formula that will succeed in the face of serious adversity. 

The restaurant is where I have my 4th job, head washer upper or kitchen porter depending on which title you prefer... basically the bottom of the pile in the restaurant despite performing one of the most important tasks of the kitchen. Anyone can do it but there are not many that can do it well, do it under pressure when the 60 plus diners all finish up and the crockery is needed in a timely fashion for the next sitting while the chef needs a certain pan now or a fish filleting five minutes ago or a runner to grab something from the walk in fridge. It's an undervalued role if you're good at it and it's a nightmare to work on the other side (as chef) when someone is bad at it. But that's later, at 7ish tonight, and for now I'm deep in contemplation.

The problem is the banks. They won't touch me with a barge pole as my credit history is appalling. All I've ever done with banks is use them and abuse them. I've run up so many debts and then just moved away that I've pretty much run out of banks I can use at all, let alone get a mortgage with. The plan is to go directly to the restaurant owner Huw. I have the remaining inheritance (I say remaining as it's been accessible as a safety net for me since I was 14 but the balance is due on my 25th) from my mother of around 20 grand and I plan to use this as a deposit and arrange a private mortgage with Huw to pay the remaining close on 100k he wants over the next 12 years. It looks good on paper, sounds good when I run through it in my head and most importantly that 20 grand cash  incentive is very hard to refuse from the sellers point of view. 

And so after all this contemplation, plans that I've worked through 100 times, I wash up my brushes and my roller, check my progress to find that I've finished a bedroom but for the final 'cut in' between ceiling and wall, lock up and set off for the chippy.

Keith and Linda run the chippy, both retired from their lives in Stoke and happily immersed in the unwelcoming climate of being an English invader, running a business in Harlech. Linda loves me and has all the patience in the world for me, Sue (who also does a few shifts) and the kids whilst Kieth is a bit cooler, grudgingly accepting us as workers and friends. It's pretty quiet today though and after serving the 6 or so diners that come in, washing and cleaning up and having a natter to Linda I'm sent 'home' early at 1:30 which gives me 20 minutes to say hello to the wife and Jennifer, who's not yet at school, eat dinner and get to job number 3 for 2pm.

Job number 3 of the day is my role as retail outlet manager with Harlech Technivision! Sounds good when put like that but in reality it involves opening the shop and sitting on my arse for 3 hours on the off chance that someone might come in looking for Gogs or better than that, and by some miracle somebody actually looking to buy something! I also have to answer the phone and make notes in the diary should it ring, which it usually does at least once during my shift. If the shop gets into too much of a state I tidy it up, if I'm ridiculously bored I tinker with the window display but generally I just sit and try to study.

Right now I should be studying a lot more than I am. I've basically gone into each exam and re written my essay on the subject to suit my choice of question. I remember 7-8 keywords that remind me of the paragraphs or points from the essay and write them down as soon as the exam begins and then just pad it out with bullshit!

The loophole I'm working is that the marker of the exam can have no knowledge of whose paper he or she is marking and so if I replicate the same old answer I gave in my essay he or she has to mark it on its merit as an answer and not even take into account that it's the same old shit I already wrote once! It's working so far but I'm very much borderline with my goal of getting a 2:1. My Dissertation was absolute shite, it started well enough and had great potential but then I got job number 3 or 4 which took up even more of my day and I ended up just padding it out with crap quotes and meaningless opinion which earned me a 49% mark. Getting one below the 50 was a little dig by the tutor, he knew I could have and should have done better, as did I. With more time and just a bit more effort I would have. 

There's only 2 exams left now and I finished off the last of the overdue essays last week so I'm a lot calmer than I was but still pretty stressed out and determined to finish with at the very least respectable marks in these two exams. 

I've done well to get to the end of the process at all really. I only went to college to get off the dole and I only went to Uni as a natural progression of the college decision but I really want to get a 2:1 now and it's close, so close I can smell it. To start with I just wanted to get through, to pass, but now that I'm at the end and so close I just want the 3 years to give me a fair price. A 2:1 is just that tiny bit better than my dads' 2:2 and so eternal bragging rights can be achieved! 

The 3 hours drag on as my 'management' duties go un-required, no phone calls and no customers at all. I leave Gogs a note in the diary so that he at least knows I was here before heading off home for a couple of quality time hours with the kids ahead of job number 4 this evening. 

I head into work for 7 and start clearing away the days carnage from the prep crew. It's still pre summer holidays and still pretty quiet so I have a bit of time on my hands and share some banter with the waitress. She attempts to put me in my place by reminding me that I'm 'just' the dishwasher. I quietly whisper to her that I am thinking of buying the place and she laughs, I mean really laughs. Like the idea is completely ridiculous. Like I, the dishwasher, the dogsbody, the skivvy am making the most ludicrous claim ever. And all night she carries it on, despite me asking her to keep it quiet. There's no malice and I'm sure she thinks I was joking but her words and reaction sting.

My shift finishes at around 11 and I head home to catch up with the family's day. I don't stay up long though as I've gotta do it all again tomorrow. As I drift off to sleep the waitresses words and ridicule drift back to me. She really can't see it, can't even contemplate the possibility that I could buy the restaurant and she's just made me doubly determined to see it through...