Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
For me, those early days of getting under the skin of the hotel and figuring out what was going to have to change and what needed to be built on—who needed to be fired, who needed to be hired—were some of the happiest days of my life. It was like taking a spoonful of Beluga right from the jar and feeling it pop on your tongue—pure heaven. I reveled in those days. It was like decluttering on a massive scale. I tossed out the things I had no use for and were just getting in the way, put in place new structures and methods of working, hired better people, refurbished, opened a new restaurant that put The Alden Hotel on the map.
I loved it.
Now it’s a five-star hotel and occupancy rates are some of the best in Manhattan. The staff is incredible. Our reviews are outstanding, and I’m happy to say I have the best boutique hotel in Manhattan—although Worth would disagree.
Being at Wilde’s Farm feels like those early days of being at The Alden. Not that Wilde’s is on the brink of closure or anything. It’s just a new business to me. It feels good to be learning how it works. And coming from outside, I always think you can see holes that other people have missed. That’s how consultants make their money, after all.
At the moment, all I can see is how hard everyone is working, but Wilde’s is beholden to the weather, the quality of the transportation, and the buyers of the fruit. There’s a lot of things that can go wrong and no obvious way of de-risking the business. I want to know how long the contracts are for. Do they get buyers rejecting stock? Do they get into legal wrangling? Are they pushed on price? Recognized for their quality?
“Wanna grab some lunch?” a voice from behind me asks.
I turn and it’s Bray. Iris’s brother. I tamp down a smile. He’s a smart guy. I don’t fit the normal type of person who turns up on the farm looking for day work. When I told him that Iris suggested I come down if I was looking for work, I could see his mind working overtime. And rightly so.
“Sure,” I say. “Would love that.”
I didn’t bring any lunch, but Bray leads us into the back room of the largest of the sheds. I wasn’t expecting what I see—a staff cafeteria.
“It’s no fancy New York restaurant. There’s soup, sandwiches, and veggies. And fruit.”
“Sounds good,” I say and pull off a tray from the pile. I end up with pea and ham soup, a chicken burrito, and a pear. There’s more of a selection than Bray made out at first. There are chips, snacks, nuts. It’s not some makeshift operation.
“I can get this,” I say. “Where do we pay?”
Bray chuckles and rolls his eyes. “It’s on me.” He leads us out of the barn on the other side, where there’re some picnic tables set out. He chooses one that’s empty and I sit across from him.
“You don’t charge any of the staff?” I ask as I open my water.
“I need them well fed. They all do very physical work. They don’t eat properly at lunchtime and it means they’re not as productive in the afternoon.”
Smart, I think to myself. “I bet there are plenty of employers that wouldn’t think that way.”
“What can I say? There are a lot of dumbasses out there. But also, we’re paying minimum wage to a lot of the staff. Some of them aren’t going to have the money to have a good, healthy meal. It’s the right thing to do.”
The right thing to do. Feed your employees. Treat them right. I like the Wilde’s Farm philosophy.
“So business is good?” I ask.
“Business is fine,” he says dismissively. “Tell me how you know my sister.”
I pull in a breath. Iris and I haven’t discussed what we tell people about how we met. I’m pretty sure she’s not going to want me to tell her brother I met her at the ballet in New York, seeing as she goes to great lengths to hide the fact that she goes off to Manhattan once a year.
“I’m friends with Byron Miller. You know him?”
“Kinda,” Bray says. “But Iris doesn’t really know him.”
“I think we were in Grizzly’s the first time… Was that it? Then we ran into each other in the diner and—”
I have to stop myself from laughing. How ironic that I came here to get away from New York because I was seeing Iris everywhere. And now here I am, with Iris.
“So you’re staying up the mountain at the Colorado Club?” he asks.
“Yeah. I get a good deal there.” I grin, but Bray doesn’t seem amused.
“Not many people from up there come down the mountain looking for work.”