A Self-Made Man
George is said to have spent his entire life within the construction
industry, having grown up with it in his blood. His dad, Joe, made a heap of money constructing office buildings during the City of London’s Big Bang, following Thatcher’s deregulation of the stock market. George was reputedly visiting construction sites from age ten, and by sixteen working as a chippy for Joe, making timber formwork for concrete stair and lift cores on the London Dockland developments. George was apparently a dab hand with wood, but also possessed a natural flare for managing concrete subbies [subcontractors]. By age eighteen he was becoming something of an unofficial deputy site foreman and,
unsurprisingly, upset a few co-workers for being the boss’ boy, or ‘boy boss’ as they called him. Before long George was being shown the ropes, working through each department of his dad’s company. As much as anything Joe thought of his son as a useful pair of eyes, helping him to root out rogue workers. All the same, on the day of his twenty-first birthday he called George into his office and showed him the door. His dad cut him off; so determined was he to see his son build up his own empire as he had. Inevitably George found his way, working with a mate providing building maintenance services in the home counties. Their customers were predominantly older people struggling with the upkeep of their homes; effectively camping in houses that were too big, too old and too cold. George spotted a gap in the market – ‘manageable’ flats for older people – and started looking for suitable development sites. His lucky break came in the form of two dilapidated Right-to-Buy council houses, which he and his brother bought at auction and developed in the evenings after work, bedding down on site when they ran out of daylight.
They split the properties into flats and sold them to retired friends of the family for a modest but rewarding profit. Within months they had a full order book of customers looking for similar solutions. And so, George’s story is often paraphrased, “cut off at 21; worked and slept hard on site;
and delivered solutions where no one else was looking”.
Box 1: George’s Story
Academics have found that business leaders often lay claim to legitimacy through stories and self-narratives. Indeed, business elites need success stories to function effectively within their field of power.21 Some say elites are ‘socially and discursively constructed’, by themselves and by others.22
21 Robert Chia, Charles Harvey and Mairi Maclean, ‘Sensemaking, Storytelling and the
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George uses his story as a way of relating to subordinates (secretaries, assistants, architects, and so on) and customers; simultaneously asserting his authority while flagging his ‘ordinary’ roots, subtly adjusting the rhetoric to suit his audience. In the same way, staff own and develop his story. For instance, junior staff remark on how interesting it would be to have a one-to-one with George, tapping into his knowledge and industry insight. Yet, colleagues wish each other luck if they are going into the boardroom or when there is an unexpected call from ‘upstairs’. Of course, George does have a fun side. For instance, he recently invited staff, their families and partners to a carnival-themed party at his country home, complete with fairground rides, beer tent and a hog roast, to celebrate completion number 5,000.
Nonetheless staff remark on George’s vehemence, particularly in the presence of local authority planners and design review committees. George has little time for obstructive process and policy wonks; even less so for designers, though he recognises that design can add value when properly managed. George prioritises goals like achieving low build costs and high operational efficiency; growing completion numbers; increasing sales, revenue and profit; and sustaining investor-friendly ROCE. He proceeds – always moving forwards – from one position of certainty to another, based on hard facts and figures, mixed with a little of his renowned gut feeling. George is regarded as a maverick by his partners and his reputation as an outspoken and restless businessman proceeds him. Office folklore maintains and reinforces the idea that George’s sustained success is borne out of ‘staying the course’ and ‘defying the odds’ – both recognised modes of legitimizing an elite’s circumstances and position.23
Staff equally help to construct George’s presence at work, particularly his availability.
Layers of managers and assistants seek to protect George’s time, so that he can ‘do what he does best’ and maintain a healthy work-life balance (George is a familiar face on The Solent, as well as the international offshore and ocean races scene). If you want ‘George Time’ you must book it through his PA, and at least three weeks in advance. That said, there is every chance he will call upon his staff at a moment’s notice. Staff talk of last minute changes of plan, and meetings cancelled to accommodate George’s agenda for
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the day. If necessary, he will throw people out of meeting rooms. In these terms, George and his staff perform and uphold his position of power.
The Business Habitat
The environment that George and his fellow directors have created for themselves has an equally important role to play when it comes to projecting and protecting their success, status and power. Their ‘quarters’ enjoy the highest level of privacy within head office; the director’s suite being located on the top floor and arranged such that the directors’ offices are defended by the desks of their personal assistants and secretaries.
Directors also benefit from the best light and aspect; from their elevated position, they enjoy looking out over the local golf course and farmland beyond. Though the best view is from the boardroom.
The boardroom is the company’s most heraldic device; designed to impress – and supress in equal measure – its formal and material presence has something of a hold over staff and visitors. Most notable is the room’s size. At 50 square meters the boardroom has an equivalent floor area to a Pink & Knight one-bedroom apartment.
The room is flooded with light – owing to floor to ceiling glazing – and offers a stadium-quality view of the golf course (celebrations at the eighteenth hole providing occasional amusement). The teak conference table is sized such that every director can be comfortably accommodated, seated on a Charles Eames style leather swivel chair.
Indeed, the table is too wide to reach across and shake hands, it being equivalent in size to a professional snooker table. Furthermore, the room is packed full of secret gadgets and state-of-the-art conferencing equipment. A single touch-screen panel operates a plethora of boys’ toys ranging from electric blackout blinds, through to climate control, mood lighting, a concealed digital projector and wide screen. The latter rises from a teak cabinet that houses video conferencing equipment, an amplification system and resident PC. And yet, in stark contrast to the level of investment, the boardroom is rarely used.
Access is guarded by the secretaries, and its use for everyday meetings resisted at all costs, unless George is attending.
In some respects the boardroom is an extension of George’s domain; his office being
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he works, particularly when talking on the phone. He often stands on the threshold to his office while liaising with his PA, or when ‘chewing the fat’ with his fellow directors. Perhaps the most striking aspect of George’s office is the distinct lack of furniture; he has no need for filing cabinets, printers or copiers, since the secretaries take care of those things. For the most part his floor is as clear as the green outside his window. At 20 square meters, the equivalent floor area accommodates four workers downstairs, or a Pink & Knight living room.
Meeting George in his habitat, and seeing him present his favourite development, one might notice the difference in design attitude toward Pink & Knight buildings; the difference between what it builds for itself, and what it builds for its customers.
Evidently there are two distinct and seemingly contradictory architectural languages: the
‘contemporary’ company headquarters, with its Modernist form and minimalist materials palette, versus the company’s ‘traditional’ product that seeks to mimic a twentieth-century English vernacular, favouring brick walling, tiled roofs, bays and dormers. That said, this is a common contradiction within British culture with regards attitudes toward places of production, associated with the city, and pastoral ideals of living in the countryside.24
The architects responsible for the design of Pink & Knight’s headquarters reason that a
‘contemporary, high standard’ working environment, which maximises light and views, helps to ‘generate a sense of well-being and therefore improved productivity’.25 Perhaps the board of directors found common understanding in the business language of
productivity and an architectural image that speaks to the city, despite the office’s suburban edge-of-town location. Again, in contrast to its developments, the office is distinctly outside the historic town – away from the chimney pots – and within five minutes’ drive of the motorway (access is essential, as directors spend a lot of time on the road visiting potential development locations). Indeed, the office is somewhat self-referential, due in part to a lack of quality built environment to respond to, and having to mediate golf course on one side and staff parking on the other.
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The office car park is another jewel in the crown of the Pink & Knight estate; its capacity having been hard won at planning (92 spaces in total, following a successful planning appeal). When the car park is full there is an impressive array of high-value cars, with an estimated net worth over two million pounds.26 The clear majority are company cars, selected from a prescribed list presented to prospective employees at interview and staff at annual appraisals. It is here – the car park – where the staff pecking order is most evidently displayed, such is the hierarchical nature of Pink &
Knight. Indeed, it is something of a privilege to park in this contested space and only those with company cars can do so. Furthermore, staff experience something of a ‘race’
to work in the morning, with those arriving close to eight getting the best spaces (the kind that do not require multiple maneuverers or risk defecation by pigeons perching in the trees). That said, if you are a company director you have an allocated, covered space by the building’s entrance.
PART THREE