In business since 1537, the City company that’s acquiring targets in Basra
To Armoury House, headquarters of the Honourable Artillery Company, for lunch with the recruiting officer — not with a view to joining up, though the PT would do me good, but to inspect the morale of this ancient City institution and inquire how it is adjusting to the pressures of the modern world, military and financial. The HAC is both a serious territorial regiment, specialising in ‘surveillance and target acquisition’, and a rather good club with a beautiful cricket pitch — an oasis of the old City, walled in on three sides by anonymous new blocks. But nationally the TA is in dire straits: total reserve strength is half what it was 20 years ago, and so far below the number needed to cushion the regulars against ‘overstretch’ that the maximum joining age is being raised from 32 to 40, and in some cases 42. London, with its transient population and lack of strong regimental links, has never been fertile recruiting territory and has fallen well short of recent targets. As for the HAC, my recollection from earlier days was that it relied on sporty minor-public-school types — surveyors, Lloyd’s brokers, discount house men — with time on their hands and an inbred inclination to loyalty. Does the breed still exist in today’s super-competitive, bonus-hungry City?
Well, Major Charles Marment told me, ‘it’s a lot less public-school than it used to be’, but the non-public-school recruits take to regimental ritual with relish. There are still plenty of City chaps — Marment is a stockbroker — but among newer strands of recruitment he particularly praised ‘the Aussies ... up for anything, never complain, always seem to be between flats’. If there’s less of the old inclination to loyalty, he observed, there’s more of an ‘extended gap-year’ mentality, an urge for some adventure before settling down. Are potential recruits put off by the prospect of a posting to Basra — where 85 HAC men and women have done six-month stints in the past two years? On the contrary, front-line service allows them to look the regulars in the eye — and a senior source confirmed that the MoD has been ‘pleasantly surprised’ by the willingness of reservists to go to war. The HAC is currently only about 10 per cent below strength, which is better than many other territorial units, and will receive new colours from the Queen next month. All City companies have to change with the times, but this one has been here since 1537 and looks pretty robust. Readers under 42 with an appetite for ritual and adventure should take a look at the website.
Betting to lose
‘anchester has vowed to fight on for M its super-casino,’ declared the Manchester Evening News after the House of Lords scuppered the proposal to ‘regenerate’ part of the city by providing residents with easier access to one-armed-bandit machines. But the newspaper noticeably failed to provide a quote from anyone who had actually vowed to do any such thing. ‘Manchester breathes a sigh of relief’ would have been more accurate: of 33 comments posted on the Evening News website, 19 unequivocally welcomed the loss of the casino; only six were angry, mostly because they thought the vote had been taken by ‘feudal’ lords; the rest seemed to be supporters of the rival Blackpool bid, gloating over Manchester’s reversal. I happened to be in town on the eve of the vote, at a gathering which included civic and business leaders, and I did not meet a single person who was for the casino: as one of them put it, ‘We’re with the Bishop’ — of Hume, who so eloquently denounced the concept of regeneration through gambling. After the Lords’ vote, only Angie Robinson of Greater Manchester Chamber of Commerce sounded convincingly upset, denouncing the outcome as ‘utter madness’. City council leader Sir Richard Leese described himself as ‘very disappointed’ and said he expected the original decision to hold sway in due course but I have a suspicion that he wasn’t and he doesn’t. So why did he enter a bid at all? ‘These things have to be done,’ one senior figure told me – meaning, I guess, that big cities have to show a bit of leg whenever central government has ‘prestige’ projects to dish out, in order to be in the running for the prizes they really covet. Manchester was one of 27 initial bidders for the casino and was a 16–1 outsider in the betting on the subsequent shortlist; this was a prize the city did not for a moment expect, and quite sensibly did not want.
Don’t mention the war
Ihave been enjoying Kiss, Bow or Shake Hands (Adams Media), a country-bycountry guide to business etiquette by two American experts on ‘intercultural communication’, Terri Morrison and Wayne A. Conaway. They offer particularly helpful advice on conversational pitfalls. In Britain, for example, ‘do not make jokes about the royal family’ (we make enough of those ourselves, thanks) and don’t press your views on diet and health because ‘the English are only beginning to be concerned’ about such matters. In the Netherlands the Barclays team locked in merger talks with ABN Amro should note — it’s not appropriate to discuss ‘prostitution, soft drugs and euthanasia’ with your Dutch coworkers, however open-minded they may appear. In Asia, conversation is a minefield everywhere: best not to say anything about politics, bureaucracy, religion or sex, although in Indonesia, ‘don't be surprised to hear graphic descriptions of birth-control methods’. In my own business experience, South Korea was the trickiest place to steer clear of faux-pas — so much so, indeed, that it was easier if my interlocutors spoke no English at all. Then I just followed the advice of my local colleague, Mr Joo, who told me to smile, say whatever came into my head, and let him say the right words for the occasion as though translating them from me. He often told me afterwards that a meeting had been a great success even though I had no idea what I had just discussed. With Morrison and Conaway in my pocket, I would have been better primed: good topics in Korea include ‘kites’; bad ones include ‘your host’s wife’. Even if I’d forgotten which way round that rule works, I might have got away with, ‘So, Mr Kim, how’s the old dragon these days?’
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