The Factory Outlet
Geoff Hebdenthwaite picked up the old bakelite receiver on his desk and listened to his receptionist, cum secretary, cum cleaner that he had a visitor from Manchester. He drummed his fingers on the worn desktop and grimaced. This was a regular visit from Walter on his monthly round to take orders. In the past he would be a welcomed visitor and the single malt would be on the desk, ready for a shared tipple to seal the deal. These days he kept the malt or now the downgrade equivalent, a cheap blend to drown his sorrows.
‘Hi Geoff, thanks for seeing me this morning.’
‘Aye Walt, sit yer self down and tell me some good news for a change. I’ve just had the returns unloaded. Tell me yer going home with a full order book today.’
‘Yer can read my mind Geoff. No good news I’m afraid. Yer not going to like what I have to say.’
‘Fire away Walt. Nothing can surprise me anymore.’
‘Well, the Chief Buyer back at head office says he’s getting his ass burned by the Directors and he needs to get another ten percent off his purchase prices. Things are getting tough out there. Today’s ladies are after cheap bargains rather than pure quality. It’s the imports flooding in from China and India that are killing your business. I have to be truthful Geoff. We sell less and less of your stuff these days. The imports are just getting better. You must have seen them in the shops yer self.’
‘I have and I wonder how they can make them so cheap. They are selling for less than my factory gate prices. I can’t reduce my labour costs and if I use cheaper cloth then people like you wouldn’t even be knocking on my door.”
‘Yer can’t compete with the cheap labour out there. Our buyers can specify the cloth and still get garments for half the price we buy in Britain. OK Geoff, you have your label to fall back on as a mark of quality but our Directors are after the margins. That’s all they dream of, I reckon, margins.’
‘Don’t feel too sorry for yer self Walt. You’re not the first through these doors with the same story.’
‘Well Geoff, all I can do is put in my offer, not negotiable and you can kick me out of yer office and down the stairs.’
‘Ah won’t do that Walter. Known you for far too long, and yer dad before yer, but if I read you correctly your offer is ten percent less than last order and yer not going to up the quantity, not that I would accept that since all yer business is now on sale and return,” said Geoff as he rattled a tune with his fingers on the mahogany desk top. ‘That would be below my cost of production and with your credit terms, I won’t see the money for at least three months. I can’t go along with-it Walter. I can’t sell on those terms.’
‘I thought you might say that Geoff. I’ll see myself out.’
It wasn’t the first or the last buyer that he had turned away recently and there weren’t many more to go. His great grandfather had built the mill, a huge edifice to weave the finest worsteds in the land. His grandfather had seen the writing on the wall and had switched in a timely fashion to making cloth up into garments. Margins were higher so he’d sold off the weaving machines to an Indian chappie and bought the latest Singer sewing machines from America. The business had prospered. His father Joseph took over and kept the business turning over nicely until it was his turn. His elder brothers had turned down the family firm and gone elsewhere. His sons and daughters were wiser and all in the professions, doctors, dentists and lawyers. Now he was stuck with a pig in a poke. If he could only have hung on for another couple of years, sold up and retired but things had caught up with him faster than he ever imagined. His only consolation was that he wasn’t alone. There were many fellows at the Batley Lodge who had gone through his fate. Liquidation, bankruptcy, going bust and where were the Masons in his hour of need. Sucking their teeth and shaking their heads. Where was Betsy’s world cruise that he had promised? Paying off the banks he surmised. His cash flow was non-existent these days and he had to borrow to meet the wage bill. His suppliers of cloth were already down his throat and threatening to cut off his line of credit.
‘Jack’s on the line for you Geoff. Are you ready for a brew?’
‘Ah needs something stronger than that Janice. What does the bugger want? Put him through.’
‘Geoff, I need a favour.’
‘Morning Jack, how are yer keeping? What’s the matter with yer pleasantries Jack?’
‘Haven’t time for pleasantries Geoff. I’m in the mire and I need you to take in a couple of truck loads of returns for me. You have the space.’
‘So have you Jack so why are foisting this stuff onto me and for how long?’
‘Sorry Geoff but you must have heard on the grapevine that I’m going bust. It’s the times. I need to squirrel this stuff out of sight of the liquidators.’
‘So that’s the rub, is it? I heard of your downfall but what are you eventually going to do with this stuff?’
‘I don’t know. All I know is that the liquidators will sell it on to the barrow boys for peanuts. I might have to do that myself at a later stage. Help me out Geoff. You must be having a hard time too.’
‘OK, OK but your men will have to off load and stack. I haven’t got any spare here.’
‘Thanks. Knew you would help out. Must dash.’ The word had got round and a few days later a few more of Jack’s acquaintances in the business contacted him to ask him the same favour, storage of a few boxes. Only to be a truck load, after all he had the space in his mill.
Each Saturday was a routine. He would drive Betsy into the town centre of Bradford to do her shopping. He had to drive since Betsy couldn’t manage the large Jaguar in town. Geoff didn’t mind because it allowed him to do some serious people watching. See what the young people were wearing and buying. What was in fashion so that he could adopt these designs in his factory and attempt to provide what the women wanted to wear today? It also allowed him to check on the retail prices of clothing and gauge the mark up the retailers were making. This particular Saturday, Betsy was after an outfit for a christening of his fifth grandchild shortly but the large department store was in the throes of its annual sale. It was mayhem, with women pushing and shoving to get the best bargains. Geoff wished that these hoards were buying his products but no such luck.
On closer inspection he found the garments on sale were of inferior quality and had been purchased specially for the event. He reckoned the mark up on the so-called discounted goods was equal to that of the normal apparel. It was obvious to Geoff that the women were more interested in an apparent bargain than checking the true quality of the garments. It got him thinking that just the term ‘Sale’ was sufficient to draw in the crowds. He couldn’t produce garments at such a low cost. They must be imported from the Far East especially for the occasion. There was no reason why he couldn’t hold a sale in his factory and get rid of his old stock and the returns which took up a floor and a half of his mill.
There was an unwritten agreement with his retailers that he wouldn’t sell direct to the public but since they were abandoning him in their droves, he didn’t care a bent farthing for their rules. He found a seat in a corner, away from the crowds and planned his new venture. He hadn’t heard of anyone else doing this but why shouldn’t he give it a go. He had nothing to lose and maybe something to gain. He could clear part of the ground floor of the mill and set up shop. He’d get some of the girls to come in on Saturday. Bit of pin money for them. Get some advertising. His returns were already priced and he could advertise and sell them at half the stated tag price. That would be considerably more than the factory gate price he was getting. He was getting excited at last. He calculated that if he could sell half of his stock then it would be sufficient a nest egg to retire and take Betsy on her planned cruise.
‘Mr. Hebdenthwaite, Mr. Hebdenthwaite, there’s a bobby outside and he sez that yer can’t have this.’
‘What’s the problem Janice?’
‘The problem? The problem? Mr. Hebdenthwaite, there’s a huge crowd outside and they’re blocking the road. It’s not ten o’clock yet. What are we to do?’
‘I’ll see to it Janice. Now make sure all the girls are in position and ready. Get the girls out of the stock room for now. We might just have to open early. There’s a float in the two tin money boxes in my office. Get them will you please. There’s a mix of half crowns, two bob bits, shillings and some brass. Look after your change, tell the girls.’
‘Mr. Hebdenthwaite, Doris has brought her mum and wants to be sure, that she herself, can purchase garments since she’s staff you know? Staff never allowed to purchase our stuff before.’
‘Of course she can. Better still get Doris to come and work as sales assistant today. We are short of staff. We need all at the pumps today. It’s worse than in the shops in town. If you see any more of our girls, then rope them in. I’m manning the doors and only letting a few in at a time.’
‘The staff are saying that it’s not fair, they should be allowed to purchase, Mr. Hebdenthwaite.”
‘True Janice. Tell the girls that we’ll have a special sale for them on Wednesday. And I’ll give them an extra ten percent staff discount, off the current prices and if the garments they want have been sold today then we’ll make them up to their size. Spread the word, Janice.’
‘Betsy, I need you here desperately.’
‘I’m having tea with Mrs Thornton from the Grange.’
‘Betsy, I need you here! I need your expertise. It’s chaos here. Crowds outside trying to get in and we are short staffed. Get yerself over here Betsy. I can’t cope.’
‘Betsy, I’m so glad you’ve come. Go in there and sort them out. My girls aren’t shop assistance but they are doing their best.’
‘Right Geoff, I’ll sort them out. Did you follow what I told you to do?’
‘Yes Betsy. The girls on the tills know to clip the label in a special way so I can check the goods have been paid for at the door. I’ve caught four of the buggers already trying it on. Now go and do your stuff Betsy.’
‘Mr. Hebdenthwaite!’
‘Yes, what is it this time? I’m busy.’
‘We are all busy Mr. Hebdenthwaite.’
‘Sorry for being sharp Yasmin. What is it?’
‘Well, Mrs. Jackson wants a sixteen top and eighteen skirt and can’t find one. Can we send someone to look in the store?’
‘No Yasmin. We need everybody on the floor. Tell this Mrs. Jackson that we’ll make one up for her whatever size she needs and have it for her by Wednesday. Same half price as the sale. Jot it down in the order book as normal.’
‘It’s Howard from the Batley Chronicle. Can I have a word Mr. Hebdenthwaite?’
‘Sure, but I’m busy man today.’
‘It won’t take long. Why are you opening a factory shop selling direct to the public in Batley?’
‘I know it’s the first time it’s been done but I’m getting rid of stock.’
‘Is this a precursor of you going bust, into liquidation?’
‘No, it isn’t! I’m converting stock into cash and this is the quickest way. I’m learning from the High Street.’
‘Aren’t the big stores going to be up in arms you doing this?’
‘Well, this is all returned stock of theirs. Look at the price tag. It’s from a High Street store in Leeds. If they can’t sell it, then they can’t complain if I have a go.’
‘But that’s unfair competition for them.’
‘Don’t talk about competition to me lad. The Far East is flooding the market with cheap imports and I have to compete, otherwise I’ll go under like many around here.’
‘But won’t they stop buying from you in the future?’
‘Maybe they will and maybe they won’t. I still have a good label that I’m proud of and the women are getting quality goods in my sale not the cheap rubbish in the High Street sales.’
‘Are you saying that they are buying in especially for the sales?’
‘You’ve been around long enough to know the answer to that question me lad.’
‘Have you started a new trend? Is it going to catch on?’
‘I don’t know. There not many of us left in the rag trade these days. I suspect a few might give it a go.’
‘Are you making money out of it?’
‘I’m selling old stock that I’ve stored for years so you can say I’m converting it into brass.’
‘I’ll let you get on now. Will you be opening next Saturday again?’
‘Tell your readers that we will open until we have cleared our stock rooms and that the women of Batley will get a genuine quality bargain, only here.’
‘Yes Janice. What now?’
‘Mr. Hebdenthwaite, there’s a man here who wants to see you. I think he’s from the market. I suspect he wants to know what you will want for the leftovers at the end of the day.’
‘Janice, just tell the man nicely that I haven’t got as low yet to deal with barrow boys.’
‘Hey Betsy, I’m glad you arrived and put some order into the chaos.’
‘It was like the old days Geoffrey. When I was floor Manager in Leeds and you were courting me. I right enjoyed myself. We took a right bundle today.’
‘Aye we did that, plus ten orders for odd sizes to make up. Thinking back to those days Betsy, you were the smart one and that’s why I was courting you.’
‘Why are you still bothering making up orders?’
‘Betsy, at half the retail price I’m still making more than I used to sell to the big department stores.’
‘Won’t they complain having their noses put out of joint? They didn’t allow you manufactures to sell retail in my day.’
‘They still don’t but they’ve abandoned me so bugger them all, I say. Look Betsy, times are hard and I’m in hock to the bank for a lot.’
‘I know, I know, so many like us have gone under. I didn’t like to ask but I suspected that we might be next.’
‘Well, the Hebdenthwaites have never gone under without a fight. On the strength of today’s sale then I’m going to hold one each Saturday until I clear all my debts and make enough for our retirement. I’d like to sell up but no ones buying businesses like mine. The mills around here are worthless these days.’
‘If you are going to hold more sales, then I want to be involved Geoffrey. I right enjoyed myself today. And I think we should open during the week. I can’t put up with such crowds as today. If you say the margins are good, then we should do it.’
‘That’s wonderful. The margins I’m making by selling direct are better than ever. I’ve never felt so good.’
‘Hey Jack, I’m selling your stock that I’ve got stored at my mill for you. I though you might like to convert it into some cash.’
‘Thanks Geoff. I’d almost forgotten about that stuff. How much are you going to make for me?’
‘I thought that might be the next question. For you Jack, I’m charging you forty percent and for the stuff your mates are storing I’m charging them fifty percent.’
‘That’s a bit steep, isn’t it? We are mates. Go back a long time.’
‘Look Jack, I’m doing you a favour here. You’ll still be getting more than your factory door price.’
‘Right. OK. Keep your hair on. Now what are your retail prices then Geoff?’
‘I thought you weren’t going to ask. I’m going on the stuff that’s price tagged and estimating the rest. It’s all advertised at half shop prices.’
‘When can I expect to see some brass then?’
‘You’ll have to wait until I’ve sold it all. It’s all recorded in the sales ledger; all above board.’
‘Geoffrey, if I supply you with more of the stuff that I’ve got stored elsewhere, will you sell it for me?’
‘OK, I’ll do that and tell your mates I will do the same for them but the charge is fifty percent and I don’t want rubbish. I’m not competing with the barrow boys on the market tell them.’
‘It’s a deal Geoff. You are a saviour.’
‘Well tell them at the Lodge. Where were they when we needed them? The buggers were hiding. They didn’t stand up for our rights. They let the imports steamroll right over us. I’m sick of all of them.’
‘Don’t be too hard on them. It’s the times. We don’t want to be Luddites, do we?’
‘Geoff what are all these brochures doing here, cluttering up my side table?’
‘Well Betsy it’s for you to choose your world cruise you’ve been dreaming about.’
‘Can we afford? I can still dream on.’
‘With all the work you put in of course we can. We will have a nice nest egg to retire on in six months time.’
‘But I quite like our work. It’s given me some purpose in life since the kids flit home.’
‘Ah well my dear. I think we have struck lucky. You know Jasmin, the Pakistani girl. Well, her old man has come around to see me and he wants to buy my place, lock stock and barrel. I think Jasmin has been telling him what a good business we have and he wants to buy me outright. He’s tells me there’s a future in factory outlets. They are springing up everywhere now. I’ll sell him the leasehold only so we get a regular income out of it for our future. Eventually they will knock the mill down and build shops, offices or housing on the site. I only hope we are still around by then to see it and benefit.’
