“I can book you for 2 PM on Friday, and I guarantee that we will be done by 5 PM. Is that OK with you?” That’s the type of conversation I usually have today, and it will take me a while to explain how I got there.
My name is Jamie Written, and I am from Epsom, Surrey. Exactly three years ago, I moved to Battersea to enrol in Lambeth College to get my Level 4 Diploma in Accounting. The course was going to last 36 weeks, which promised to be one of the hardest-working eight months of my life.
Growing up in Epsom gave me the perfect blend of both worlds – the calm and quiet of Surrey and the proximity of the big city. But I had to move to Battersea to understand what living in a metropolis looked like. I was swept off my feet the moment I moved in – the restaurants and pubs, the small cafes and local shops, the art venues, the Battersea Power station… As if I was walking through the pages of a travelling guide.
However, the glitz and glamour came at a price. A quick aside – after finishing high school, I took a year-long sabbatical and spent it on low-cost travel across Southeast Asia. It was the adventure of a lifetime, followed by an equally unadventurous stint as a shuttle cab driver. The end justifies the means, so by the end of it, I had gathered enough money to cover my tuition fee and the 8-month expenses.
Or so I thought. I should have known better – if life has ever taught me a lesson, it is that even the best plans don’t last very long when tested by reality. The truth was, life in Battersea was proving more expensive than I had expected. But how to resist all the temptations? By the end of the third month, it had become evident that my savings would not be enough to get me through the 8-month duration of the course.
That was the bad news. The good news was my accounting course was proving less difficult than I had feared. After the initial adjustment, I was making quick progress and figured I could juggle between school and work, which left me with the task of finding the appropriate job.
Then, fate intervened. OK, I won’t be so melodramatic. I had created this tradition of having lunch at one of Battersea’s pubs every Friday, and it was the Duke of Cambridge’s turn on this particular occasion. Midway through my chicken-and-bacon sandwich and chips, I landed on the following job ad:
"Help needed urgently - filling up a tenancy cleaning team! No previous experience required. Pays per hour."Remember how I told you about my sabbatical in Southeast Asia? I could have never pulled it off without grinding along the way. So I worked for a high-end hotel cleaning company in Singapore for a couple of weeks (a whole different story that requires its own blog post). I wasn’t a professional cleaner by any stretch of the imagination, but I was willing to bet my lunch money that I had better credentials than 90% of the other candidates. So I calmly finished my sandwich, gulped the excellent remainder of the ale and headed for my afternoon classes, writing down the number in the ad.
Fun fact – I was going to lose that bet. I had better credentials than 100% – there were no other applicants. The guy I contacted, Morris, was running a small, local-based tenancy cleaning company in SW10. Morris was an excellent cleaner – he had over twenty years of experience in the industry and knew the job inside and out. Detergents, tools, equipment, the most efficient solution to any cleaning-related problem – he had the correct answer on a cue.
He also had no HR or managerial skills whatsoever. Morris expected his employees to be as motivated as he was, he didn’t know how to work his staff, and he only operated at one speed – full throttle. Not surprisingly, the cleaners’ turnover was never-ending – few people would tolerate such an attitude. On top of that, Morris’s wife kept the books, or at least tried to create that impression. One quick conversation with her and glancing at her accounting spreadsheet told me all I needed to know. However, I wisely kept my cards to my chest and never mentioned what I was studying.
I worked for Morris for three months – just enough to get me to my finals and the hard-earned diploma. It should have been the ending of my cleaning stint – surely, I could find a better-paid desk job as an accountant! But something had happened during these three months that took me a while to realise.
First, it confirmed something I already knew – I was good at cleaning. But I was also good at accounting, so why should it matter? Because I had also observed the market. People were constantly calling with quote requests, and sometimes Morris had to turn them down. To put it in economic terms – there was strong demand and insufficient supply. Moreover, Morris was mismanaging his business, and still, he cleared a nice profit.
But what if I could create a better environment for my cleaners, even come up with an incentive-based model, couldn’t I run a successful business? The idea stuck in my mind and wouldn’t go away. I was young, had nothing to lose, and was preparing to take the Battersea cleaning stage by storm!