TUNA LIFE (3 page)

“You’re talking to Richard,” the other end answered.

“Hi. My name is Andrew Engels. I was wondering if it’s possible to get an appointment with one of the partners of Y-Bator.”

“I’m a partner. Convince me of why I should have a meeting with you,” the voice said.

Andrew was caught a bit off guard and there was an embarrassing moment of silence before Richard asked if he was still there.

“I honestly don’t know,” Andrew answered. “I accidentally walked past a conference at the Hilton Hotel a few weeks back. I was so motivated that I quit my job the same day. Now I just want to learn more about what you guys do. I believe half an hour with you could make a huge difference in my life,” he finished.

“Wow. That’s probably the worst sales pitch I’ve ever heard. Not one single word about ‘what’s in it for me.’ It was all about you.” The voice on the other line laughed. “But it was also refreshingly honest, and devoid of the usual BS people feed me, so I accept your offer. You can take me out for lunch tomorrow. Meet me at the Courthouse Hotel at one. Let’s see if I can help you.”

Andrew said thank you and rang off. He was relieved. He had managed to get an appointment with one of the partners of Y-Bator. He could get invaluable knowledge in that meeting if he prepared properly. But the coin also had a flipside – he had to pay for lunch, at the Courthouse Hotel. He secretly hoped that Richard wasn’t too thirsty, and that he would show some moderation, because Andrew’s bank account didn’t exactly have room for any extravagances.

He glanced down at his mobile. At least he had time to play around a little bit with his new toy before he started planning what he wanted out of the meeting with Richard.

4

Scott Davis looked like he wanted to be anywhere else than in Vesna Connor’s office. The large body wormed around in the chair. It looked like he didn’t know where to put his feet, which he occasionally crossed back and forth.

“How’s work going?” Vesna asked.

“It is how it is. Not much I can do about it,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Vesna asked. She found the answer perplexingly strange.

Scott Davis rubbed his left palm on his clean-shaven head. He was wearing a short-sleeved white shirt and a screaming red tie. The tie appeared strangely out of place, considering the rest of the outfit looked old and worn. Vesna assumed she was witnessing his work uniform. That she would probably never see him in a different outfit. He was either one of those who didn’t care how they looked, or he was one of those who refused to spend a single cent on something job-related, clothes included. Her money was on the latter alternative.

“Let’s be honest. I’ve worked for this paper for thirty-five years. You’ve been here for five minutes. You’ve called me in today because certain people here don’t like me, and want me out. So you’re going to give me the same spiel your predecessor gave me, and his predecessor before that. Improve your output, improve every aspect of your job or you’re out in six months. Let’s instead cut through the crap, Vesna. Give me a redundancy package, and you can pat yourself on the back and tell your superiors that you succeeded where your predecessors failed – you got rid of Scott Davis.”

Vesna Connor studied Scott Davis. There hadn’t been any aggressiveness behind his words. In her last job, the job that supposedly qualified her for this one, she had fired sixty percent of the staff. Without exception they had all yelled at her or broken up in tears when they had received the news. Scott Davis was way past that stage in the process. He had already given up. He was a beaten-up polar bear who had realised that the world around him had melted, and that there was nothing left for him to grab onto.

Only open sea.

“I don’t want to get rid of you, Scott,” Vesna said as she rose from her chair. She walked over to the window and peeked out. She looked straight into some trees, so she turned around on her heels and observed Scott as she leant against the shelf the previous editor had filled up with sports memorabilia.

“I’ve just read two of your articles about these new technology companies springing up on the coast. Martini – a social network for professionals, and Elantra – a virtual art museum. Well done, Scott. This is what we’ve been missing. Positive news. News that encourages people to be proud of their city. We’ve had enough of reading about Jim Raptis and other real estate developers going bust. We’ve had enough of hearing that nobody goes on holiday on the Gold Coast because of the high dollar. We need something new. The Gold Coast needs to reinvent itself. And you, Scott, you are going to help it do exactly that.”

Scott Davis hadn’t changed his expression since she started speaking. She might as well have undressed and done the hula hoop naked on the table. It wasn’t easy to get this guy enthusiastic.

“So you want me to find positive stories about new tech companies on the Gold Coast? To write that everything is bliss, even though nobody is making any money?”

“Help me out here, Scott. Media has a role to play. We can create positivity or we can create negativity. We need something positive on the Gold Coast right now. We need it badly.”

“Media’s role is to report news and facts,” Scott replied. “Report! It doesn’t matter whether the news is good or bad for this paper or not.”

“Well, if this economy doesn’t pick up soon, if people don’t start reading our news instead of watching TV and wasting time on Facebook, then soon there won’t be any advertisers left to pay your wage.”

Scott Davis studied Vesna. She seemed sincere. “I guess I can give it a shot,” he said reluctantly. “How many words am I allowed to write?”

“Write as many as you want, Scott. This segment will be our priority for the next six to twelve months. Do a proper investigative job. What did you call it in that article about Martini?
The new economy
. Continue to use that. It sounds good. We are going to help transform the Gold Coast into a new Silicon Valley.”

Scott Davis stared at the notepad in his hand with tired eyes. He had secretly hoped he would be offered a redundancy package in the meeting. He had been holding out for one for years. With the severance money he could have bought himself a campervan and taken that trip around Australia that he and his wife had always spoken about.
Sashi
. He still missed her immensely. She had deserved so much better. So much better than Scott.

But instead of driving around Australia he would now have to write about teenagers in business. He sighed. He couldn’t really stand most young people. They were so bloody naïve, so gullible. He was certain that Vesna truly believed that it was possible to create a new Silicon Valley on the Gold Coast by publishing a few positive stories. Another victim of this positive thinking philosophy that had swept over the country a few years back.
Silicon Valley
. He laughed again. The only silicon you would find on the Gold Coast was stuffed away in fake tits.

Them, however, them there were plenty of.

5

The Courthouse Hotel in Southport, the so-called financial heart of the Gold Coast, was buzzing with professionals. In sharp contrast to the hot lunch spots for professionals in Sydney and Melbourne, where most lawyers and accountants wore dark suits and ties, the hottest spot on the Gold Coast didn’t have a single person in a full suit. Everyone was casually dressed. Men had two buttons undone, and women wore short skirts. It was just plain common sense when the temperature hovered around thirty degrees.

Andrew recognised Richard Smith from the picture on Y-Bator’s website, and walked over with his hand extended.

“Andrew Engels,” he introduced himself.

“A pleasure,” Richard Smith replied without making any attempt to get up from his chair. “Tell me about yourself, Andrew. Where do you come from and what do you want to do with your life?”

Andrew sat down, a bit perplexed. He wanted to keep the introduction short. He wasn’t there for a job interview. He only wanted to learn how he could become part of this
new economy
that the teenager from the Hilton so appropriately had called it.

“There’s not much to say. Born and raised on the GC. Attended St Andrews Lutheran College. Did triathlon and surfing in my younger days. Completed my Master in Finance from Griffith Uni in 2004, and started working in a local accounting firm. Quit four weeks ago, and I guess I’m now officially unemployed.”

“Let me get this right, Andrew. You’ve lived your entire life in the same city. You’ve only had one job in your entire career. You’re not exactly what I would call the definition of a risk-seeking entrepreneur. Do you even know what you’re doing?” Richard Smith asked as the waitress filled his glass.

Andrew tried to sneak a quick look at the wine list, to gauge how much he was out of pocket, before answering. “I don’t know what happened. My entire life I’ve wanted to be crazier, but common sense has always prevailed. I’ve got no good explanation why I quit my job. It just felt right at the time. It was something I had to do.”

“What did you have to do?” Richard asked.

“I had to take a chance. For the first time in my life I understood that I wasn’t meant to be where I was.”

“So you quit your job. Without any freaking idea what you were going to do. I hope you’ve got lots of cash in the bank. Because you’re gonna need it.”

“I’ve got enough to last me a couple of weeks,” Andrew said.

Richard Smith coughed into his wineglass. “You haven’t even got a security net? What were you thinking?” he asked.

“I don’t know. It just felt right.”

“I’ll give you some advice, Andrew,” Richard said. “Take a big drink of your wineglass and swallow your pride. Move in with your parents or your girlfriend. Get a part-time job and minimize your costs. If you, by some wonder, come up with a great idea in the next year or so, then give me a call.”

Andrew stared at his wineglass. Moving in with his parents wasn’t an option. They were both dead, and he didn’t have a girlfriend, the only girl he had ever loved lived in Hong Kong. None of the things Richard had mentioned was an option. “I want to know what you look for when you invest,” Andrew said.

“I look for winners,” Richard answered, clearly implying that he didn’t view Andrew as one. “I usually say that a great team with a bad idea is preferable to a bad team with a great idea. Your first priority will have to be to find a good team. I’m sorry to break it to you, Andrew, but no one will ever invest in you. No matter how good your idea is,” he said. “The next thing I look for is a huge market. There has to be a massive market for me to be interested in your idea. If you want to start a company to have a nice work-life balance and make a decent living, then start up a gym or something. I don’t invest in lifestyle companies. I invest in companies that have the potential to become global giants and become worth bucket loads of money. The winner takes it all in this industry. And I, I invest in winners.”

“But how do you know who is going to become winners?” Andrew asked, immediately regretting the question. He sounded stupid.

“If I succeed with one out of ten investments, then I’m thrilled. This is the reality in the start-up world. Most of the companies I invest in don’t survive more than a year. If you decide to start up your own business you are going to enter a completely new world. You will forever chase money. From investors, customers – everybody. If you get stressed about not being able to pay your phone bill one week, then this life is not for you, Andrew. But if you can live with constant uncertainty, if you can cherish always being broke and work eighteen hour days seven days a week, then there is nothing more rewarding than starting your own business. I swear that I learnt more during the two first years of my first start-up, than I did my entire time in kindergarten. And I started kindergarten when I was one, Andrew.”

Andrew found it ridiculous that Richard claimed to have learnt more by starting a business than he did in the life-shaping years when he learnt to walk and talk. But he understood the point. And it made him motivated.

The problem would be money. Andrew was genetically disposed to become stressed out when he was broke. He had been taught to always pay his bills on time, no matter how little money was left afterwards. He knew that many of these get-rich-quick prophets said you should always pay yourself first. Ensure that there was enough money to invest before you paid your bills. But that was a principle he would never be able to follow. He had to pay his bills when they were due. Otherwise he would pass out from the stress.

“So, if I return with a good team and an idea with a large market, you’ll support me?” he asked.

Richard Smith laughed. “It’s not that simple, Andrew. But OK. If you return with a great team, and a brilliant idea that has the potential to disrupt an existing industry. Then we’ll talk. And then I’ll pay for lunch,” Richard Smith said as he closed the menu. “I’ll have the lobster,” he said to the waitress. “Because there is nothing called a free lunch in this start-up world you so eagerly want to become a part of.”

Andrew looked at the menu. Richard Smith had just ordered the most expensive meal on it.

6

It was a sunny afternoon at Don’s Tavern, Bond University’s local hangout. Andrew had known what to do the very second Richard Smith had said that the most important thing for any start-up was to have a great team. Andrew didn’t have many close friends. He did however have one close friend, a friend he also deeply respected, a friend he was forever in debt to: Ken Speis.

They had been friends since they both started in the same kindergarten almost thirty years ago. At one stage Andrew had even dated Ken’s sister. She had been his true love, the one that got away.

Ken and Andrew had remained friends throughout childhood, although they had been split up for a few years when they attended different high schools. After losing his mum, Ken had been adopted by his uncle and sent off to an expensive private school while Andrew had attended the local State High School. They had always kept in contact though, and they sort of shared the same backstory; they had both lost their mothers early in life.