Chapter 3

January 1st, 1980 and my thirtieth birthday was a time of reflection and anticipation. Showing that Punk didn’t dominate everything Pink Floyd’s Another Brick In The Wall was number one in the charts. Even our local claim to fame, Mow Cop, had an album in the top twenty, and of course, their hit ‘Crazy Xmas’ made its annual attempt at the singles charts. Although their music was not really to my taste, I had always taken an interest in them, as apart from being local, I also shared a name, if not any relationship, with one of the original members.

By far the worst event of the past dozen years, was my mother’s death from Leukaemia in 1974. It was also the last time that I’d seen or spoken to my father. Even at the funeral my sister was as caustic as ever. By then she was the trophy wife of some high-flyer from the capital. She was still blaming me, and now my mother, for robbing her of things she felt were rightfully hers. Her husband was there, driven up from their Surrey house in his chauffeur driven Roller. To him, it was clearly an imposition to be tolerated because, had he not attended, he would, no doubt, be seen as uncaring by his peers and their views were all that mattered. It was to be the final time that I would see my sibling.

I had continued to avoid commitments, preferring one night stands or very short term relationships. Even those had tailed off during the last few years as they no longer brought anything other than just sexual satisfaction.

I had a multigym at home which I used to keep my body toned, though not muscle bound. I’d also taken up Karate, achieving a brown belt. I didn’t really have the true dedication required to go any further. I did try Kung Fu for a few years after being impressed by David Carradine’s character in the TV series of the same name. In fact, one amusing tale was my first visit to the teacher, or sensei as he liked to be called. When I was left alone by him, another student approached me and explained that I needed to pay him as well. The guy was about my age and had the typical Short Arse Syndrome, I found common in men lacking height. He assumed, correctly, that I was new to Kung Fu, and that he could use his experience to intimidate me. He found out to his detriment that a brown belt in Karate trumps six months of Kung Fu. The sensei was not impressed with the guy when he discovered his scam, reckoning that that was why the number of students dropping out seemed rather high.

I’d lost the use of the company van after about a year, though, weather permitting, I actually preferred to cycle to and fro, adding stamina to my overall fitness. Through necessity, I’d also become quite skilful in the kitchen.

My first mortgage was fully paid off and I’d considered upgrading my little terraced home. I took a major risk in 1975 when I had purchased a larger semi-detached house in nearby Hartshill which, like Penkhull, was a well established area of The Potteries. Hartshill was also where my father still lived, so I’d been careful to choose a property at the opposite end of the area. The risk wasn’t really the purchase, rather the decision not to sell my Penkhull property, but to rent it out, which I put in the hands of a letting agency. Interest rates at the time were extremely high, but so was inflation, with wage increases just about keeping up. That meant that the monthly payments soon became quite affordable, especially with the rental income.

The move coincided with the purchase of my first car, a 1968 Daimler V8-250 saloon in pale blue, which is still my pride and joy today. Its V8 engine was, and still is, rather thirsty, but I tended to do so few miles that it didn’t really matter.

At work, I was now the Department Liaison Manager which entailed ensuring smooth workings between the other managers. I was also responsible for some other activities that weren’t large enough to warrant a separate manager. Transport was one such department where I had to ensure mileage, service and usage records were kept up to date. It was this work that had prompted a new hobby, computing. During 1979 I had purchased a TRS80 along with a book called ‘Programming The Z80’ by Rodney Zaks. Initially with BASIC I learned the fundamentals of programming before moving on to Assembly Code and Machine Code. I also learned that the former performed too slowly whilst the latter’s performance was extremely fast but painstaking to create. It was soon recommended that I learn ‘C’. That was a game changer offering the best of both worlds. It was with ‘C’ that I set out to write a program for monitoring vehicle data.

There were also changes at work, as you would expect after a dozen years. Yvonne Meadows had moved on and we had a new receptionist. Strange, how you can have a ‘type’ yet meet someone that varies so far from it but that you still find really attractive. Mary Burrows was, for me, that woman. She was tall, black, full bodied and had a model beauty. She spoke BBC English with just enough Jamaican to keep it interesting. She also wore two rings on her third finger, left hand. Now, I’d never been averse to a fling with a married woman, but I’d never once initiated anything, not even any innocent flirting. Paul, my old boss in Purchasing, had also moved, this time to Australia. The bad news was that Mr. Hartley-Smith seemed to be spending less and less time whilst his daughter was taking up the slack. Lorraine’s looks had only improved as she hit her thirties, as had her sense of entitlement. Her attitude to us lesser mortals remained one of disdain. I was under no illusion that my time at ‘City’ would end with Mr. Hartley-Smith’s regular involvement. That was one of the main reasons that I was learning programming. I wanted a firm step on this new ladder. I’d given a demonstration to Mr. Hartley-Smith and the board. They thought the program had merit but were not prepared to purchase a computer yet, let alone some software written by one of their employees. In hindsight, this was probably for the best as it proved that they had no rights to my work. With no computer in the company, I couldn’t possibly have done any work in their time.

The following day, I returned to work after the Christmas break. On arrival, I was surprised to see Mr. Hartley-Smith’s latest Jaguar already there. It seems that I wasn’t the only one, as the rumour mill was running riot. We didn’t have long to wait before all managers were called into the boardroom where a bigger shock awaited, Lorraine Hartley-Smith was also in attendance.

Mr. Hartley-Smith opened proceedings with a short statement. “After a thoroughly enjoyable and relaxing break, I have decided to step aside and allow my daughter to take the reins. I will remain as Chairman but Lorraine will take over as Managing Director.” He looked over at his smug daughter before sitting down.

She stood up and continued. “As you all know, I am Miss Hartley-Smith and I am very grateful to my father for allowing me to follow in his footsteps. Initially there will be no major changes and I ask you all to continue your good work. Over the rest of this week I will be calling you in for a get to know you chat. Now please return to your departments and let your staff know what has happened.” She looked straight at me with a cold smile. “Mr. Powell, I’ll see you first, immediately after lunch, say two o’clock please.”

‘Well that was a lot quicker than I anticipated.’ was my first thought, followed by ‘I’d better get a CV done.’ Certain that my demise was imminent I spent the rest of the morning gathering my few personal possessions together and saying goodbye to the colleagues that mattered.

Before I went into the meeting I spoke to Mrs. Rogers regarding what Lorraine could and couldn’t do. I already had a good idea of those and the Personnel Manager confirmed them. Dot also laughed, saying I was making a mountain out of the proverbial molehill.

“Don’t bother to sit down, you are fired.” I was told even as I closed the office door.

“Cause?” I demanded.

“I don’t need one now I’m the boss.” She smirked.

“I’m sorry, being the boss doesn’t put you above the law. May I suggest you discuss this with Mrs. Rogers. Being that I don’t really want to make things difficult for the company I will happily accept a generous redundancy package, which will be cheaper for you than a wrongful dismissal suit.”

“Get out and wait outside.” She shouted. I was more than happy to oblige.

A few moments later Dot came hurrying past and into the M.D.’s office. Almost as quick she was out again, telling me to follow her to Personnel. “I’m really sorry David but it looks like you were right all along. She really has it in for you. Any ideas why?”

I explained our first meeting and the animosity since. “I hadn’t better say what I’m thinking or I might be joining you.” She whispered. Back in her office she explained that it was redundancy that I was facing not dismissal. Since the terms had been left to her, they were very generous, including three month’s salary in lieu of notice. As redundancy pay is tax free, I left ‘City’ with more than enough money to last me six months, as long as I was careful. I’d been expecting this, if not it’s suddenness.

It didn’t take me long to come up with a plan, after all, I’d been somewhat working towards this. I would optimistically set myself up as a software developer and computer consultant, specialising in SMEs (Small to Medium Enterprises). My work at ‘City’ had already provided me with a lot of contacts so I would start with them. I also had my Transport Software which could easily be adapted for most needs. The advantage I had in writing in ‘C’ was, in the main, all I needed to move to another platform was a new compiler. I set up a limited company, Datafon Ltd, and set to work. Initially I planned to operate from home until, hopefully, I had enough business to warrant an office.

It was hard work for the next three months as companies had yet to realise the potential of business computers. The high cost of hardware didn’t help. I did manage to sell three versions of my Transport Software, each needing only minimal modifications. On the consultant side, I did slightly better, with eight billable contracts, all based around existing accountancy software.

Oddly enough my big break came, not from my contact list, but a chat in the pub. Monday nights were my crib nights. I played in a local league, representing The Museum pub, just on the outskirts of ‘castle, usually on the away team. I liked that, as it meant I got to visit many of the area’s other drinking establishments. Whilst watching one of my other team members play, I got to talking to one of the home team. Rob Webb was a printer, and owned quite a large printing company in Newcastle. His father had recently retired to the sunny climes of Iberia. This left Rob doing all the estimates that flooded in. it was a very time consuming job and left little for anything else. A few questions later and we agreed to meet up later in the week for further discussions.

Approaching that meeting, I considered the work to be quick and straightforward. It proved to be neither as I’d seriously underestimated the variables involved. Just for a start, there were a myriad paper sizes, thicknesses and types. It also seemed that every printing press was different, each requiring a multitude of setting up processes and inevitable wastage in doing so. Adding to that were the varying speeds each machine was capable of. The good thing though, was that each of these things in themselves were actually pretty constant. It would need a separate program just to create and maintain all this data. Rob was of the firm belief that once created, maintenance would be minimal. One of the major headaches for Rob was variable quotations; what ifs, such as 500, 1000 or 2000 in quantity, 1 or 2 colours or one or both sides. My thoughts were that this is where a computer would really excel. Once the data was entered, everything else was just a minor tweak and calculation.

Another important piece of data that we’d initially overlooked was fixed costs and how to apportion them. Yet more data required then, oh, and don’t forget wages and machine depreciation.

I was honest with Rob, I had no idea how long this was all going to take. I wanted to quote him a fair price but daren’t underestimate as, as a one-man band, I couldn’t afford to do that. In the end, Rob suggested an interesting solution. He would pay based on my maximum estimate plus twenty percent, on condition that when, not if, I sold the program to other printers that he got a twenty percent commission. I quickly agreed, but only on the proviso that once he got his investment back, that that would drop to five percent. We both agreed that in the short term, I would work out of Rob’s office, as picking his brain would be easier that way.

It took a just over a week to create the maintenance program and a little less than another three months to write the estimating software. Doing it in that order allowed Rob to enter all the required data before we got to testing. Naturally there were some updates required but they were all additional fields. Another month was spent testing and bug fixing before Rob was happy. We both agreed it was better to have a couple of months of bug free running before trying to sell it elsewhere. That was achieved with minimal fine adjustments. Unsurprisingly, Rob knew many of the area’s other printers and invited them to see the new software running. To a man, they were amazed at how quickly estimates were being produced, especially the common multi quantity variants.

Some were keen enough to order immediately, whilst others preferred to wait to see how things panned out. That suited me, as I could spread the work out better. No two shops had the same equipment so there was always some work to be done. I’d been manually creating data for each machine but as Rob explained, there were only a very limited number of machine types. Admittedly each type, might have a larger number of suppliers and models, but the basic data fields were the same. I therefore, set about a plug-in for the software that enabled the customer to add whatever machine they wanted. This meant that we could now sell the software as a finished product that required nothing more than a comprehensive manual. Rob then suggested an advert in the main trade magazine.

Before the year ended, Rob had his investment back and was now reaping a profit, one that I didn’t begrudge at all. A good profit was also heading into my own bank account and, of course, the taxman’s. I still cycled everywhere feasible, but used my Daimler for visits outside the area, or for when I had to take my own computer with me for a demonstration.

The Christmas season approached, with its festive looks and sounds, or should that be commercial rather than festive. Even as a child, I’d never been a fan of Christmas, having to endure a sneering sister showing off her toys, which were always better and more of, than mine, which itself (always just the one) seemed like an afterthought, never matching my requested present. Add to that my total lack of faith and I found no reason to celebrate this pagan mid-winter festival perverted for the Christian church. Even by their own biblical stories, Jesus was born in the summer months.

However, this Christmas had all the makings of an excellent one. My business was a success and looked likely to improve next year. I was still getting the occasional call regarding my Traffic Program and Rob and I were discussing the up and coming continuous stationery printers. The slow, but steady, increase in business computers was matched by the requirement for computer paper. This seemed an obvious target for my next piece of software.