The eighties. A decade of excess, of Thatcher and the sort of conspicuous consumption only Russian oligarchs and US R&B stars truly go in for these days.
One managing director of a small but perfectly formed catering company was recently reminiscing about those halcyon days that taste forgot.
At the time he was overseeing the catering and hospitality at Barings, the oldest merchant bank in London until its collapse in 1995 thanks to Nick Leeson.
He had a good relationship with the client at the bank and always made sure he did the very best he could to deliver top service, holding regular meetings with him to discuss how the hospitality operation was running.
Ahead of one such briefing the caterer took it on himself to examine how the contract was running.
After a thorough investigation he identified several areas where a number of cost savings could be made through simple efficiencies, thinking the bank’s masters would be delighted.
However, the report was received by a somewhat perplexed client, caught off guard.
After a long pause the Barings man got up from his leather seat and told our caterer, amusement in his voice, that:
“If and when I want you to make cost savings I’ll let you know, dear boy.”
He then filled away the report in a rarely opened drawer where it remained, forgotten.
Oh to have been a City-based contract caterer in the eighties.