The Charlie Banditry Temptation

THE CHANDRY BANDITRY TEMPTATION.

Embedded in that heading is a weakness, a foolishness which makes me truly ashamed. I’m horrified recalling it, nauseated. Chandry Banditry was a Sikh with no hair, no turban, a dapper westernised Sikh, Punjabi. He happened to turn up when I was very low. I’d just about given up on the prize draw, felt on my own with it. Nobody seemed to be interested including the people we’d engaged and paid to help. Sinking into a depressed desperation I didn’t know where to turn. I was susceptible, vulnerable to anything, anyone, any offer, any idea. Chandry Banditry came by appointment as a salesman offering promotional services. His merchandise turned out to be outdated, long past, old fashioned printed material. I was surprised to see it and sure I’d seen all the brochures before, the very same ones being touted by a manicured pinstripe with spectacles. There were hundreds of them, an unmanageable armful. Chandry Bandrity staggered under their weight.

I didn’t waste his time. Told him bluntly his stuff was rubbish in the age of www. I was in that no-nonsense mood and went on to tell him my prize draw problem and if he could sell tickets there may be a job for him on a commission-only basis. Leaving for another appointment he said he would think about my offer and be in contact. Later that day he rang and we arranged for 9.30 the next morning.

A grand evening event for invited guests; the wealthy who like champagne, canopies, chatter, music and fine dining. These people also liking a gamble would buy loads of tickets. Perhaps because I was sceptical it never happened.

However, claiming to be a chef specialising in Indian food he said he could usefully fit in with our operation and he had friends, people in the know who could find a buyer for the business at a proper price.

Moving into the Mews apartment at no.30 he started work shortly after agreeing to a wage. Soon it was party time. Nearly every weekend his wife and children and business associates came along, trampling all over us like a lazy docile grazing herd. An aura pouring stealthily, laying claim, pushing us aside. Who did we think we were? They didn’t even offer to pay for anything. Accommodation, food, drinks, anything. It was a regular hail fellow well met get together. A family social; in-laws, uncles, daughter, Charlie had a lovely daughter, and friends.

Over time we had a few meetings with prospective buyers of various nationalities. All introduced as property owners with the means to purchase. They were shown round the premises, shown the extension plans, supplied with financial information and offered refreshment. They were all always amicable encounters. Suggestions were made of cash on the side. Would I be interested in an unofficial £100,000 which would not be mentioned on the deeds? I’ll say, of course, and who wouldn’t be?

We went on a trip in our Royce to a Thai restaurant in Braintree to meet a prospect. I think we spoke with the washer up, a kitchen hand of some sort. Maybe the caretaker, a jobsworth. Nothing came of it. On the way home, we went to Chandry Banditry’s house but by now we were giving up on him, losing faith, friction was wearing out our happy and we couldn’t respond warmly to the hospitality.

In the hotel I noticed people, the public, were enjoying meals at the bar but there was no evidence in the till. And I deduced by careful attention Chandry Banditry was running a takeaway delivery service, meals and energy slowly creeping out of our kitchen also with no tinkling reaction in the till.

Time was passing. My unease with the Charlie Banditry’s methods was growing. He was sharp to spot opportunity and take advantage, and I was coming to the conclusion he was on his own mission. And I, not suspecting his intention was on my own different mission. But with the dawning I was on his case morning, noon and night. I observed he was drinking heavily especially when he did my night shift; he liked the best available, a drop of Remy, it was disappearing by the bottle a tot at a time. Things came to a head when one of his associates, claiming to be an executive of a Lear jet hire company asked me for £7000 for marketing services. I laughed, aghast, the audacity, the nerve. The deal had been; paid by results; make a sale, get a reward. This demand was a dark moment with a threatening ambience. “No,” I said and reminded him of the voluntary nature of his involvement and the condition of commission on completed sale. The confrontation passed but left behind a see-through barrier, an arms-length subtle interface change.

When shortly afterwards I asked Chandry Banditry to leave he made no fuss, no protest, just went.

Chandry’s creative side honestly applied to the direction we wanted to go could have been mutually hugely beneficial but instead he opted for mischievous short-term advantage which worked for no-one.

The dust settled.