The Way Things End (17/3/13)

So today I drove through the Mersey Tunnel for the first time in quite a while, heading for the ephemeral beauty of Birkenhead. For one last time. To say goodbye to a little slice of my life.

It was 2004, I'd been back in management for two years, I'd opened our store in Speke in 2002 so I was asked to open the new Birkenhead store. I remember driving over for the first time to look at the site that we were taking on. The kids were still kids, Matty only 3, Tom 8, both chuffed to have breakfast on a Sunday morning in the Burger King next to where Dad's new shop was going to be. The shop was still open with its previous inhabitants, some kind of low fashion/accessories shop. I rang my boss to say the site was bigger than we thought it was going to be.

The staff interviews were held in The Marriott hotel in Liverpool in the city centre, the training in our Southport store. I'd worked with my new assistant manger before, I'd interviewed my new supervisor for Speke. We had a good team, people we'd nicked from other stores and people who were totally new to the company. We had the usual opening visits from members of the board. They were happy with us, we had a good shop.

I spent two years of my life in that shop. My car in a side street half a mile away as it was the nearest place you could park without either paying or getting a ticket. The daily journey through the tunnel, the daily walk downhill past a sweet shop whose window display was ten years out of date when we first saw it and was never updated, past Birkenhead's little theatre which I've still never seen the inside of and past sundry sleeping pubs, one of which I finally saw the inside of for an England game in 2006.

I moved back to Speke. Promoted to Birkenhead then promoted back to Speke. The next two managers of 'Birko' as it was generally almost affectionately referred to had both worked for me. It was like keeping it in the family.

And today it closed. Last day of trading. It was half empty, what little stock remained was reduced by at least 50%, shelves were bare, fixtures and fittings were for sale, just another failed business in a long line of the decade's failed businesses. But the people?

The manager is a mate, a man of excellent taste in music, long term with the company, passionate about what he does.
The assistant manager I employed as a sales assistant in Speke before I moved over to Birkenhead.
The supervisor was my cashier there from 2005 on.
The stockroom controller I stole from our Cheshire Oaks store, I stood next to him at an Ian Brown appearance in our Manchester store, knowing I would be offering him a job but not able to tell him yet.
Two sales assistants - one worked for me in Speke and moved over three/four years ago, the other was the last person we interviewed for opening the store, she's been there since day one. I'm glad she was there today, it seems right that somebody should see out the whole thing.

They're all good people, they deserve to go on and do something they'll enjoy. We may live in an age where businesses fail but the people don't. The people haven't.

You forget the problems, you forget the bad time and the trivialities that wound you up for a little while years ago and all you remember are the people.

In the end the people are all that matters. I've known some great people.