What You See Is What You Get: My Autobiography (42 page)

In this case, Stanley knew who my supplier of VCRs was and went directly to Orion. Otake struck up a relationship with Dixons and cut me out. I complained bitterly to Otake that this was not ethical and he got very angry in return, telling me he had
not
stolen my customer and that he'd had a relationship with Dixons going back many years, from when he supplied them with tape recorders.

This was total bullshit. Dixons knew that I'd pulled off a coup in getting low-cost VCRs, so they went to Otake who did a deal behind my back. However, we were buying audio chassis from Orion in large volumes and I would be cutting off my nose to spite my face by moving that business elsewhere, so I reluctantly swallowed this dirty double-dealing. I would constantly jibe at Otake, telling him how disappointed I was that he'd gone against what I understood to be the honourable Japanese ethos. This would wind him up no end, which was my only consolation.

I did have something to thank Otake for - persuading me to purchase a fax machine. Otake had been boasting that he no longer communicated by telex and instead had now installed this new thing called a telefax machine, made by Panasonic. He suggested we get one too, as it would enable us to send drawings as well as letters to each other.

Our first fax machine stood as tall as a washing machine. It was a mass of computer-type PCBs, with a huge and complicated paper transport mechanism. You had to pour black toner into it and load it with a massive roll of thermal paper. No longer would we have to airmail drawings or pictures around the world; and instead of sending an urgent message by telex, we'd simply type a letter and fax it. It was a fantastic breakthrough, a real must-have business tool.

*

The family and I would regularly go to Florida around Christmas, staying in the Boca Raton Hotel. At the tail end of the holiday, I'd take them to Las Vegas, to coincide with the Consumer Electronics Show, and we'd fly home from there. During our 1982 Christmas holiday, one of the kids cut their toe in the swimming-pool, so I went off to find a drugstore to get some plasters. On the way, while walking through the hotel lobby, I noticed a sales display for a nearby development of houses in a place called Boca West. I stopped to talk to the lady there and she showed me some pictures of the new houses going up - they looked great. I started to wonder, now I was in the money, whether it would be the right time for us to own a home abroad.

I went on the missing list for about two hours and visited the site to look at one of these homes. The lead salesperson from the developers, Arvida, was so full of shit that inwardly I was killing myself laughing listening to his crap.

It went a bit like this: 'Sir, these are
quality
homes. We at Arvida only produce
quality
homes. The hospital I was born in was built by Arvida. The school I was taught in was built by Arvida. The church I was married in was built by Arvida. And the house that I live in was built by Arvida.' I thought he was going to burst into some Gospel rap at any moment.

I shut him down pretty quickly and asked him to give me the price and show me which lots were available. There was one location where there were two lots together and I asked him whether it was possible for me to buy them both, so that I could build a tennis court as well. This put the guy into a tail-spin - I was asking him to deviate from his robotic sales script. He said, 'Sir, we only sell one lot at a time.'

'Okay, if you only sell one lot at a time, what shall I do? Shall I come in
the door, buy the first lot, then go out the door and come in again and buy the second lot?'

'Ha, ha, you English, you're so funny - you have a great sense of humour.'

'Will you please cut the crap and tell me how much for two lots? I want a house on one lot and a tennis court on the other.'

This was far too much for him to take in. He told me that I needed to meet with the actual contractor himself, a guy by the name of Sol Slosberg, who turned out to be a well-respected builder in Florida. He gave me a price for the two lots, including a house and a tennis court - $525,000 - and we virtually shook on it there and then. It dawned on me that I'd better get back to the hotel. More to the point, I'd better tell Ann that as well the plasters I went out for, I'd bought a house! I casually bowled up to the swimming-pool and told her that after lunch she should come with me and see what she thought of something I might buy.

I guess if you speak to Ann, she will tell you that I never fail to surprise her with my crazy ways. In fact, she was delighted, though she did wonder whether this was going to be one of my mad whims. She let me know her concerns, but added, 'Well, as long as we actually
use
it, then it's great.' As far as I was concerned, as long as I could install a fax machine, there was no problem. This wonderful new invention was the lifeblood of communication to me. I could easily work from Florida by phone and fax.

I did a deal with the builder to make sure the place was ready by the following July, which was pretty tight, but he made it. He was a bit surprised that I wanted it ready by then. He said, 'Nobody comes to Florida in July and August, as it's too hot.' I hadn't realised this and had already arranged our summer holiday in Florida, inviting Gerry and Norma to stay with us. During this holiday, I had a couple more strange experiences with Americans.

Ann decided we needed a small fridge for the TV room in the new Florida home. I measured the cabinet where the fridge was to go and popped out to Sears Roebuck to buy one. As I walked through to the white goods department I saw a couple of fridges which looked suitable. A salesman, who must have been in his sixties, came up to me. 'Good morning, sir, welcome to Sears Roebuck and Company.'

'Morning,' said I. 'Do you have a ruler?'

A ruler? What is a ruler, sir?'

A ruler - you know, you measure things with it. Or a tape measure?'

A tape measure? What is a tape measure, sir?'

'Something to measure the height of the door on this fridge. I need to know whether it will fit into a cabinet.'

Now consider, this bloke and I were standing no more than two feet away from the fridge. He turned to me and said, 'Sir, Sears Roebuck and Company have a policy - every refrigerator on our display has the dimensions on the door.'

I looked at him and said, 'Would you turn your head and look at the doors of these two refrigerators and show me where the dimensions are.'

'Oh my Gaad, you're right!'

'Yes, I know. That's why I'm asking you for a ruler, so I can measure it.'

'A ruler, sir? What is a ruler?'

'Please, I need you to get me something to measure the door. When you get me something to measure the door, I will know whether it's the right size.'

'Okay, I got it. You wanna measure the door, don't ya?'

Yes, please.'

'Okay, please wait, I'll be back momentarily.'

I watched him walk off, right to the end of the store. Five minutes later, he turned up with a tape measure.

'Thank you.' I quickly measured the fridge - no problem at all. 'Good,' I said, 'I'll have this white one.'

He said, 'Saarry, we don't have any in stock'

I asked him, 'Why didn't you tell me that when we were discussing the size of it?'

'Well, I thought maybe you wanted a rain check.'

Now it was my turn. 'A rain check? What's a rain check?'

'It means, pay for it now, then come back and get it when it's in stock'

'No. I don't want a rain check, I want a fridge. Okay, forget the white one. What about the black one next to it - do you have one of those?'

Yes, sir.'

'Good. I'll buy it. Thank you.'

'Thank you for your custom at Sears Roebuck and Company.'

'Okay, good, good. Let's get on with it. Here's my credit card.'

'I'm sorry, sir, we don't accept credit cards at Sears Roebuck and Company, unless you have a Sears credit card?' (That was their policy back in the early eighties.)

'No, I'm English. I wouldn't have a Sears credit card because I don't live in America. I'm from England - I'm on holiday.'

'Oh really, sir? That's very nice. Where are you from?'

'London.'

'London! Oh, I know some folk in London.'

'Yeah, yeah, fine. Look, I don't have a Sears credit card; I only have American Express or Visa.'

'We don't take credit cards, sir.'

'Okay How much is this fridge?'

'One hundred and twenty-eight dollars plus tax.'

'Fine, I'll pay cash.'

'Cash? That's very unusual, sir.'

At this point, he called across to a female assistant standing in the aisle. 'Myrtle, how d'ya do cash?'

She stopped the conversation she was having with someone else and said, 'Whaaat?!'

'Cash! This guy wants to pay cash.'

She walked over and drawled something to him and eventually I was able to pay. Unbelievable. This exercise took at least an hour and there was still more to come. I had to go to the loading bay at the back of the shop, present the paperwork and pick up the fridge, which took another twenty minutes or so.

That was the last time I went out shopping for Ann in Florida. I just cannot take those people behind the counters in department stores - I have no patience whatsoever. Ann totally agrees with me, but it doesn't stop her having a good spend-up.

On that same trip, one of my friends, Dennis Baylin, was visiting and we had a game of tennis. Unfortunately, he made the fatal mistake of not clearing the court and trod on a tennis ball, twisting his ankle badly. I'd never seen an ankle balloon up so quickly. We had no alternative but to take him to hospital, as he was in agony. I drove him to the Boca Raton hospital and was met at the emergency entrance by a burly nurse.

'What can I do for you, sir?'

'I think my friend here may have broken his ankle.'

'Okay, hold on, sir.'

They sat him in a wheelchair and wheeled him into the hospital reception. I stood beside him at the check-in counter while the lady started entering Dennis's details on her computer. After taking his name and date of birth, she asked, 'Social Security number?'

I piped up, 'Er, we're English, he doesn't have a Social Security number.'

'You gotta have a Social Security number otherwise we can't check you in.'

'We are from England, do you understand? This man is a visitor - he's on holiday. He has had an accident and he needs urgent treatment. He's in agony, can you see?'

'I can see that, sir, but we need a Social Security number.'

'Well, he hasn't got a Social Security number.'

'I can't get past the computer program to move on to checking him in.'

'Well, stick any bloody number in then!'

She called across to one of her assistants. 'What do you do when someone don't got a Social Security number?'

'You type in XXX999, then you'll find the program will work.'

She typed it in and turned to Dennis again. 'We need your home address, sir.' He gave her his address in England.

'What is your ZIP code?'

'No, look,' I chimed in again, 'we're from England; we don't have ZIP codes there.'

'You don't got a ZIP code?'

'No, we don't have a ZIP code because we are from England - and
he
is in agony. Do you see this? Can you get him to a doctor?'

'I have to get through this form, sir.'

Once again, she shouted across to her assistant, 'What do you do when they don't got a ZIP code?'

'Put in XXX999 again.'

Her next question was, 'What is your insurance company?'

'We don't have an insurance company - we'll pay by credit card.'

'Fine.'
That
she understood.

Eventually, after fifteen minutes of interrogation, they allowed him to be wheeled off to see a doctor. I told him to call me at home when he was ready to be picked up - which he did, two hours later. Before he could leave, they insisted he sign the discharge forms and, of course, his credit card slip. He was balancing on his crutches, his leg in plaster, having spent two and a half hours in this hospital putting up with all their ridiculous formalities, when the woman at reception finally turned to Dennis and said, 'Thank you, sir. You have a nice day now.'

At this point Dennis, who has a rather volatile nature, turned to her and said, 'Have a nice day?
Have a nice day?
Are you taking the piss? I was sitting here in agony while you were asking me for Social Security numbers and ZIP codes before you would even bleedin' look at me. Then I sat around for another hour and a half waiting for some bloody doctor to come and see me. And now I'm balancing on two crutches, trying to sign the credit card slip and you're telling me to
have a nice day
?' It wasn't funny at the time, but it's one of those things we look back on and laugh at now.

That's America for you. I don't think they'll ever change. Regrettably,
all the people I know in Florida don't know about anything outside their great country. Plus, they expect everyone to understand what they're talking about.