My Magazine Ch 04

Jenni Giles said damn just as she reached to open her car door and her phone rang. It was her old friend Tess Jordan, an estate agent calling to say she had two properties of possible appeal to Jenni to inspect and asked when they could meet.

"In fifteen minutes?"

"Oh goodness! Well okay; I have the developer's handout on one conversion so why don't we meet for coffee?"

The venue was arranged and Tess arrived just as Jenni was sitting at a table. Tess opened her attaché case to pull out a very impressive looking brochure and said the property offered everything and could appeal as the permanent location for Jenni's new magazine that was under pre-launch development.

They sat leaning over the publication and after a cursory appraisal began to probe for strengths and weaknesses. It was finally agreed by Jenni that it was premium space in just the right location; she thought the rate for space could be exorbitant.

It was.

"It's such a pity," Jennie sighed, "I would need to be a corporate principal spending shareholders' money to justify putting that amount of money into the pockets of the owner/developer. Perhaps we should now go at look at the property you really think will interest me."

The real estate agency saleswoman looked startled.

"It's all right Tess," Jenni smiled. "I've interviewed enough property folk over the years to have learned some of tactics used to 'process' a client. Actually in my case it's very good to know what's on offer at the top end so that I can better judge value further down the ladder."

Tess warned that they might have to look at perhaps scores of properties before they found the right one and Jenni felt a little disheartened at that remark. But as soon as she walked into the vacated fifth floor of a seven level office block her pulse rate picked up.

The previous tenant across the entire area had been an advertising agency. Although all the custom fixtures and fittings had gone, leaving the area an empty skeleton of three compartments subdividing the length of the fifth floor. Each compartment had badly marked perimeter walls where fittings and posters had been removed, obviously unsympathetically in some cases, but restoration would take little effort.

"This looks promising," she said, casually, flicking an imaginary piece of something from her shoulder.

"Really?" said her friend, lifting her sunglasses off and switching into salesperson mode. "I thought you would like it."

That's a porky, thought the client.

When they came up on the lift Tess said she had not had the opportunity to preview the premises.

There was a view of the River Thames over rooftops throughout the entire length of the area available for leasing. Jenni assumed that view would not always remain as it was now.

She looked at the two solid mid-section walls. Wide access openings had been cut through what had originally been constructed as fire-walls, and she noted her concern about that on her digital voice recorder to inquire about later.

The area looked perfect for her permanent offices. The building was fifteen years old but had been upgraded reasonably recently, probably at the request of the advertising agency that had tenanted the space for almost ten years. All of the windows had been replaced with better quality glazing to reduce outside noise, solar heat and glare.

All of the area had vents from the air-conditioning ducting that was concealed by a false ceiling and the permanent lighting was of high quality.

With satisfaction Jenni noted false flooring concealed ducting for cabling for electrical wiring, phones and high-tech devices such as computers. There were an enormous number of floor and wall power points.

Her inspection was over and she stood, looking out to the river.

Tess remained motionless, this time it was probably her pulse rate that was increasing. As Jenni turned to speak, Tess said, "There are two things I need to tell you."

"First the bad news: I am bound to advise you that you may lose some of this great view from adjacent property development and that could occur at any time. "

"And the good news?"

"Nine carparks in the basement go with the leasing of this entire floor, or on a pro-rata basis, and there is a public carpark building less than one hundred yards from here."

"I'm sorry about the possible or probable loss of view, but as the old story goes if you don't own the land you don't own the view beyond it."

"Tess I am interested. I want you to ask for a three-week option over the entire floor. I need to get a professional appraisal done to ensure I'm not in the process of leasing problems.

"How long is it since the advertising agency went?"

"Almost four months ago."

"What is the name of the previous tenant?"

"Moonglow Advertising. Is there a problem?"

Jenni recognised that name as she knew that principal well.

"I do have a concern and if it remains I'll discuss it with you before I send you in to bat on my behalf with the landlord. Who are you working in with?"

"Peter Upton a very experienced business broker and was recommended to me by my boss. This property is one of Peter's listings. I came up with the first one we looked at detailed on those brochures."

"Phone the landlord's rep now about the availability of a 3-week option Tess or ask Peter to do that. I'll see you in the foyer – I'll off to inspect the basement."

Just before leaving, Jenni stood in the centre of the floor available for leasing and almost closed her eye-lids until her eyes looked like slits. Then she allowed her mind to roam.

She saw the whole floor a riot of colour, workers in their cubicles working away at their keyboards, happily creating while others were subbing completed work and designing layouts.

Through the main walkway swept a number of visiting women, almost all dressed exotically and immaculately made up. They paraded bowing slightly amid burst of photographic flashlight and all paused briefly to see the latest addition to the trophy cabinet for excellence in journalism and publishing.

Then she glimpsed herself, quite a lot older, in a long white and silver full length gown with matching jacket and turban. She stood revolving on some sort of turntable holding a large cup with the people at her feet clapping and cheering. The camera apparently filming this gala event zoomed right in on the trophy naming

My Magazine

the UK Magazine of the Year.

Startled, Jenni shook her head to clear a kaleidoscope of thoughts. Goodness, she'd really allowed her thoughts to run wild. It was simply a vision, perhaps an unachievable climax to her professional career. But then one had to dream to have a challenging vision otherwise one would always come in second, or lower down the ladder.

Jenni smiled happily and headed for the lift. Her instinct had sensed that there was something not quite right about the basement carpark; she'd checked out the area and found nothing untoward, and headed for the foyer, for the moment quite satisfied.

At the ground floor entrance Jenni watched the approaching Tess with rising unease. Tess had been a top student at school, in fact her stiffest competitor for top honours. But at exam time Tess had tended to unravel a bit and on occasion even develop a rash under her chin.

For a moment Jenni couldn't remember the word to describe that trait appropriately, and then it came to her – flaky. In the final push, if her decision to acquire this floor in the Boswell Building flicked on the green light, she'd need to be darn sure that this Peter Upton was at her side in the final negotiations.

After she and Jess parted with a friendly kiss Jenni went to a neighbouring area that Rhoda had suggested would be a good location.

Walking around searching for vacancy signs on commercial premises she walked down to an area that looked mostly vacated as if the area was planned for redevelopment. She came to a small two-storey building where a man was screwing a notice to a door leading upstairs stating space to let.

Jennie greeted the guy

Without turning the man in a suit grunted something and continued his work.

"Is there much space to let?" she enquired politely.

This time the man turned, his belly leaning over his belt and his white and black peppered bushy moustache matching his hair. His dark eyes were bloodshot and there was a razor cut on his left cheek.

"Why would a woman want to know?" he retorted, though smiling.

Oh dear, thought Jenni, suspecting she was talking to family patriarch.

"I have been authorized to find temporary space for two months with the right to extend for another month at the same level of rental."

The man stood upright after carefully placing his screwdriver into his pocket. He looked at Jenni as if trying to read her mind.

"Better come up and inspect," he said, turning and heading up the stairs.

Jenni didn't quite jump for joy, as the area was a bit on the small side for her full team. They could squeeze in, she thought unconvincingly.

"It's good but unfortunately a bit too small."

"I could throw in my office downstairs – I scarcely use it these days as I use the one at my boat sale yard."

Jenni asked for a got the measurement of the upstairs area, which she was told had been used to manufacture and repair sun awnings and all-weather covers for river runabouts and other small craft, but that business had diminished as a result of increasing cut-throat competition from newcomers sited closer to the river. There was a small storeroom and a toilet and between those areas was a lunchroom catching all day sun.

"Are there any council restrictions on usage?

"Not that I know of, although a council inspector told me I should not have more than fifteen people up here nor store any obnoxious goods as ventilation was not particular good – but we put in those two skylights a couple of years ago.

"Parking?"

"Heaps of it. People are leaving this area as it's earmarked for massive redevelopment. But we're keeping our chandlery business downstairs going right to the end because all of our regular customers keep coming here out of habit and we're winning new customers off our rival who relocated from this area a couple of months ago."

"Right, my name is Jenni Giles and I'd like to take a week's option on this whole floor with the office we have just seen thrown in. I just need to get my solicitor to check a few things for me."

"Sounds good to me. Come back when you're ready."

"But we need to sign an option agreement, don't we?"

"Not with me you don't because I'm the owner. If I say you have a week's option, that's what you've got."

"Very well, Mr ... Mr?"

"Brajnovic – Nicolo Brajnovic."

"I have confidence in you Mr Brajnovic as you are a straight talker. Take the sign down, if you please. I am ninety-five percent certain we will be taking this space. Actually it's for a company I am forming to launch my own publishing business."

"Well you were honest in the end. I knew you were looking for space for yourself."

"Are you a gambler ... er, Jenni?"

"Not really – an occasional night at the casino and twice a year to a major horse-racing event with its big hats and partly bared bosom day, if you know what I mean."

"I do – some of those women dressed up and in some cases dressed alarmingly down make my eyes water. Their best-dressed competition is often more appealing than some of the races."

"Look Jenni take the chance and do the deal now – seven hundred quid a week cash for three months with your right to vacate any time after eight weeks with rental payment ceasing on the day you vacate with no rental penalty applying. Have your solicitor prepare a lease agreement on those terms and I will sign. Do we have a deal?"

"What happens if the council says my proposed operation does not conform to the zoning of this area?"

"I have had no notice of any imminent council inspection and have told you what I was told on the last inspection. Also it may interest you to know that publishing is not regarded as a noxious use of a building in a commercial area. The developer has two other areas to work on before he says here. If you sign up your people could be putting your desks and people in here as early as this coming weekend. That would give me time to tidy up a bit and check the electricity, water and waste water services."

Jenni's heart was pumping. It was just like putting a hundred quid on the nose of some horse that was in the leading bunch turning towards the final run to the finish. Her hands and upper lip felt clammy.

She looked at Nicolo and thought he didn't look shifty. Should she take the risk? How does one know if anyone in business is honest and as good as his or her word?

He looked at her, smiling.

She thought the logical thing was to wait and ask Sue to check him out – the delay might be short, perhaps only a day if Sue could get on to it quickly and had good contacts inside the council to get the required information and to search for any relevant feedback on Mr Nicolo Brajnovic.

However the magazine launch day was six weeks less one day away and every day counted. Oh God!

"Yes Nicolo, we have a deal. I'll make arrangements this afternoon."

"There's no need to rush Jenni. You trust me to be straight with you and I can guess you are on a tight schedule and every hour on the countdown counts. Pay the full rental upfront foe two months and I'll discount it by 10% and let's just use a standard lease agreement."

Jenni said nervously shouldn't his solicitors draft a lease agreement and arrange them to go in and sign?

"Whatever for?" Nicolo smiled. "Their main business is fee extraction. I only use them for big deals, when there is risk or complications like someone suing me. I'd much rather give the equivalent of their fee to the horses and have fun in the process. I've never met a solicitor that I like."

"Wait till you meet my Sue."

"Oh Jenni, you are a little green behind the ears. Getting into business will sharpen you up. Just tell that fat cat lawyer of yours there will be no fat cat colleague acting for me."

They started down the stairs.

"Oh, by the way," he said, "Two things: Call me Nico, only my mother calls me Nicolo. Secondly, inside that cupboard just by the top of the stairs is a parcel lift – the other access is in the foyer. It will be handy for taking computers up to your floor."

"Also I'd like to wander in from time to time to see how you guys are going. If you have any women on your staff please tell them I drink only tea – milk and two sugars."

"Nico are you aware that this is the 21st Century and women..."

He grinned and told her not to feed him that crap.

She though what a rascal he was, rather likeable in fact.

The building was a warehouse shell, visually a complete inappropriate creative centre for a quality women's magazine. Pausing to look back at the structure, Jenni had the despondent thought that even readers of

Pets Nutrition Magazine

would probably imagine their cheap publication being put together in more substantial premises than this.

But stuff it, she thought. Looks and prestige matter were less important than concentrating on the launch and then generating a sustainable forward momentum.

The structure was perfectly capable of housing her editorial team on a temporary basis and with that she decided to make no apology for deciding to choose this location as her temporary headquarters.

Strolling along the longish route to where her car was parked to get a 'feel' of the neighbourhood, Jenni paused to have a coffee at one of the restaurants. The coffee was good and the setting uplifting, but when she looked around at the other similar establishments in restaurant row that she could see that many outdoor tables were vacant – not good when it was mid-summer. Little wonder she had a long wait to be served – staffing numbers probably were close to minimum to control overheads.

She dabbed her lips with a pretty lace bordered handkerchief before freshening her lipstick. She frowned and thought that here she was amid a situation very much like publishing a woman's magazine – a crowded market, high costs and restauranteurs having to apply the acrobatic thinking required to attract a fickle public. The viability of these premises would change, however, once the development on the other side of the street proceeded.

Indeed there was a close similarity between running a restaurant's business and that of a magazine. Quality of production and impressionable ambience created in the mind, helped by an occasionally changing menu and boosted by the so-called specials would attract patrons and probably cover food and wages. But it was also necessary to attract casuals in significant numbers and convert many of them into becoming regulars to provide the cash flow to cover relentlessly increasing overheads and to turn out profits.

Magazines had to dress up and catch the eye and continually feed the interests of readers and planning had to focus on attracting and retaining readership.

Yes those two business models had basic similarity. What a rat-race surrounded business ownership and so why become involved in it?

She figured the answer was because the proprietors were driven, they saw opportunity and it was something they really wanted to do. They became engaged while knowing only a few in the field experienced raging success.

Suddenly Jenni felt inspired and that was the moment that she'd been waiting to arrive. She beckoned over an idle young waitress.

"Another cup of coffee and a bacon sandwich please."

"Madam if you want bacon you will have to order our all day breakfast. I don't think Kitchen will do a non-menu item like a bacon sandwich."

"Please tell Kitchen that I am attractive, well dressed and look exactly like the sort of person that writes up restaurants for women's magazine."

"Oooh, that's being naughty. But I'll enjoy scaring the daylights out of them. Nothing much interesting happens in this kind of work, except at birthdays or drinking binges."

Jenni watched the girl walking away, thinking perhaps she was an unemployed graduate who'd specialised in drama – she spoke exceedingly well, and Jenni had watched her expression change at the thought of blowing Kitchen out of their hiatus.

The inspiration that had arrived to fire Jenni began to transcribe itself into notes. She began clarifying her long held thoughts into her voice recorder about her own magazine. She updated her philosophy, trying to ignore past influences – and that was virtually impossible! She wanted to create a fresh concept but that was a virtual impossibility because so many other creative people had been down that same track. But she was determined to try.

In between bursts of ideas she began commenting on a layout for her temporary premises in Nico's building, that is if he really owned it but Sue would find that out. Putting two people in the office downstairs was a problem. It would be suitable for Rhonda and herself but then the staff upstairs would not 'feel' the near presence of the editor so productivity could well drop off.

With a sly smile she commented that perhaps Timothy and Brenda would be cosy in downstairs isolation – Timothy needed some of his rough edges in personality reshaped while Brenda could inherit some of his editing skills. The thought of being instrumental in developing an office romance didn't worry Jenni – it may well be beneficial for everyone, well at least in theory.

She spoke into the recorder occasionally looking up at passers-by, some of whom looked at her with curiosity. Parents or more usually mothers pushing prams or walking hand-in-hand with pre-schoolers particularly drew her attention.