Chapter 2

Smoothly settling down (not!)

Back in Australia after my travels, and feeling like a failure, it seemed the party was well and truly over. Finding a secure job and supporting my son was now my biggest priority, even if I had to finesse my CV a little to come up with relevant skills. Sink or swim? I swam like crazy. Working hard and raising my son, I didn’t have much time for love — until a well-meaning friend took up the matchmaker role and introduced me to Jeff.

Not only did we fall in love, but Jeff also unlocked the entrepreneurial spirit within me.

No sex, drugs or rock ’n’ roll

During my time on David Bowie’s boat, I met a film producer named David Puttnam (referred to now as Lord David Puttnam, one of the many films he produced was Chariots of Fire). At the time he was a director on the board of Village Roadshow. He told me that he knew Graham Burke at Village and that if I ever needed a job to contact him and he would set up an interview with Graham. Little did I know that Mr Burke was the CEO!

Regardless, I did get an interview with Graham and he was delightful — and I found myself with a job as a junior manager at Village Cinemas Knox City, not far from where I grew up. At the time, it did not occur to me to question why on earth they hired me as a manager — I obviously had no management experience. I did think it was strange that they didn’t read my beautifully presented CV, or notice that I may have exaggerated the emphasis on my ‘leadership’ skills. I took the job happily and worked my butt off. I owed it to David Puttnam and Graham to prove that I was worth the punt (see lesson 1 at the end of this chapter).

(By the way, years later at a basketball match with Graham and his wife, I asked why they had hired me back then. Graham laughed and said at the time he thought I was sleeping with David Puttnam and that he was doing David a favour by hiring me! For the record, I never slept with David Puttnam. It did, however, finally make perfect sense as to why they had hired me with no management experience.)

But even though I had never been a manager of anything before, as it turned out, I was good at it. At Village Cinemas Knox City, I worked with a small management team of three. I ran the marketing, a woman named Robyn headed up accounts, and Sylvan was operational. Between us, the cinema did exceptionally well. We did so well that after six months I was transferred to run my own cinema in Frankston. That was a real eye-opener — the cinema was dark and smelly, and the curtains were infested with spiders. It was a challenge to say the least; completely unloved when I took it over, the cinema could not have been in worse shape. My first priority was to clean the place up; after that, there were bigger issues to tackle.

Spiders aside, one of the scariest aspects of the job was the accounting system. At the nice, new, shiny cinema I was used to, everything was automated. I could push a button and the accounts would magically appear. When I got to Frankston, I didn’t even get a handover. I was presented with a key to the front door, a manual ledger and that was it — I had to just figure it out. Sink or swim? I decided to see it as a fantastic learning experience. Again, I got to work and within four months the cinemas turned a profit for the first time in years; it was exhilarating.

The Frankston cinema was an excellent development ground for my marketing skills because I was so unconstrained there. I could try pretty much anything, and I did. I set up a movie club, sent a staff member out each week to put up as many posters as possible, used promotional material to create competitions and established loyalty programs. It doesn’t sound too extraordinary now, but at the time no-one else was doing it, so it set us apart. It was like running my own small business in a regional area. Instead of seeking permission to do things, I simply went ahead and did them. There was no assistance, no manuals, no occupational health and safety policy — absolutely nothing. It was challenging but definitely rewarding.

I was, however, on a very minimal salary. I had recently bought a tiny house in Ringwood East (very tiny — it was built behind another house), borrowing money from the bank to do so. I did my sums and, on my salary, I could just afford the mortgage — and it would only take me a mere 25 years to pay off. After completing my budget, I discovered if I was very tight with my money, I could save $50 per month.

The house was close to my mum’s house, so I could drop Samuel off in the morning and then make my way to work. With driving an hour each way to and from work, the time spent with my son during the week was a quick morning rush and a cuddle at night — thank goodness for weekends. So along with the long hours came the guilt. It was a new era for me. Gone was the freedom of letting life take me wherever it wanted. I was now responsible for another human being and the weight of this responsibility was never far from my thoughts.

I’d worked for 14 months with Village in Australia when an opportunity arose in Singapore to assist in growing the cinemas there. With my three year old under my arm and a bewildered look on my mother’s face, I went to Singapore to start another adventure. When I returned home 12 months later, I was a basket case. I was burned out to a crisp. So what went wrong?

It turned out that the standard working week was six days and I worked between nine and 12 hours a day. Given my work schedule, one of the biggest challenges I faced was finding suitable care for Samuel during the day. After hearing horror stories about some of the local nannies, I ended up ringing my cousin Rachel, who was 19 at the time. The company flew her over from Australia to be my son’s nanny. Even with her there, I was still doing two jobs — working for Village and raising my son, Samuel, without the support of other extended family like my mum.

I also hadn’t done my research about my finances. I was so flattered by the opportunity, I didn’t realise that I would be even more financially constrained living in Singapore than in Melbourne. The stress and the hours simply took its toll; I became an emotional wreck. Also, I wasn’t prepared for the isolation I felt in Singapore. The expat community can be a wonderful support network, or it can make a place feel like the smallest town in the world. Everyone knows your business and feels they have a right to an opinion on you.

It was tough but, having said all that, at the same time it was exciting doing business in another country with all the differences in cultures. And Singapore taught me an enormous amount and was a great grounding for my future with Boost. Often in business and life the lessons you learn from your negative experiences have more of an impact than the positive experiences. Take, for example, my direct boss in Singapore, who was not as warm and welcoming as she could have been. Or my senior boss who, upon first meeting, said my shirt was inappropriate for the workplace. We were making massive improvements and increasing profit, yet his only comment was a derogatory one about my choice of clothing (which was, by the way, a business-style, sleeveless shirt). I vowed that day I would never judge people for what they wear, only what they can deliver to the business (see lesson 2).

Through networking in Singapore I landed a job back in Melbourne, as a publicist with United International Pictures (UIP). I wanted a role where I wouldn’t have to work nights and could have my weekends back to spend with Samuel. I’d never had a job in public relations — like all the jobs I’d had thus far, I wasn’t qualified for this one either. However, my marketing background was strong and my portfolio of promotions work showed the UIP interviewers that I had the necessary skill set, even if I’d never had the title (see lesson 3). So, one year after moving to Singapore, Samuel and I returned to Melbourne. This was a great time to be at UIP and, as on David Bowie’s yacht, I was once again surrounded by movie stars.

Working with movie stars and finding my soulmate

During my years at UIP, I was indeed surrounded by movie stars, but my professional life took something of a backseat because it was overshadowed by a big shift in my personal life. In 1995, I met Jeff Allis. We had been set up by my girlfriend Rachel, who arranged for us to meet at the Melbourne Skyshow. I would certainly not say it was love at first sight. Jeff was late and by the time he arrived I had somewhere else to be; it was one of those days. And I thought he had bad teeth and an attitude to match. Jeff remembers not liking the jeans I was wearing. He also thought I would have been better looking from the description my friend gave him. (In all fairness, my friend told him I looked like Elle McPherson! Jeff told me later, I was attractive, but no Elle. You will never die wondering what Jeff is thinking.) We said hello and went our separate ways. And that was it — or so I thought.

After the failed ‘date’ my girlfriend continued her campaign about how terrific she thought Jeff was. She kept talking about how great we would be together and, after about ten days, I caved in and called him. Jeff hadn’t really impressed me, but my friend was nagging me and I figured I had nothing to lose. At the time, I was working on the promotion of the movie Rob Roy and Jeff was Program Director for the Austereo Network’s Fox FM, so I rang him on the pretext of picking his brains about publicity opportunities. We arranged to go to dinner that week, but he rang the morning of our date and cancelled, telling me something about Adelaide and a sister giving birth. What was he thinking? I was this man’s future, for heaven’s sake! He didn’t even reschedule when he returned. He was not exactly giving off keen signals, and I was wondering whether I should just move on. I have always believed in the idea of a soulmate and I did not intend to settle for anything less. Jeff finally got around to ringing me back, however, and rearranging our first date. And that’s when things clicked. Though it was not love at first sight, it was love on first date. Conversation flowed, we laughed easily and we realised we both had the spirit of adventure. I remember thinking I really, really like this guy. I’m not sure if I can call our getting together destiny, but a few dates later when we had our first kiss, the earth did move and I did see fireworks. Even today we talk about that first kiss. After our dinner we saw each other every day for six months.

It was not all smooth sailing dating Jeff. When I was publicising the movie Clueless, starring Alicia Silverstone, she took a few of us and our partners out to dinner to say thank you. Alicia was touring and promoting the movie with her mum, and was a real delight to be around. Arriving at Alicia’s dinner, I could see that Jeff was in a ‘do I really have to be here’ mood as he began to sip on the champagne on offer. We were taken to our seats and Jeff was seated next to Alicia with me opposite him. Polite conversation started and all was going pretty well when Jeff turned to Alicia and asked her what other films she had been in. She politely told Jeff that the last movie was Excess Baggage. Jeff was excited because he had seen the movie. I looked across at him thinking that his mood had improved and all would be fine. Unfortunately, we had not been dating that long and I didn’t quite get the read right. Jeff told Alicia it was the worst movie he had ever seen and the only movie that he had ever walked out of! If a pin had dropped, we would have all heard it; the whole table fell silent. All heads turned quickly to Jeff. I jumped in and said, ‘Oh, he didn’t mean because of your acting,’ (uncomfortable giggle). ‘It was the plot he didn’t like.’

Jeff, as Program Director at Austereo, was used to securing celebrities for promotions and programs, and so was also used to dealing with some of the very high egos that exist in radio. In other words, he should have known better. When I was on David Bowie’s boat, I learned very early exactly how delicate the ego of artists is. Once I said to David that I loved him in the 1983 movie The Hunger, telling him the make-up was amazing. He quickly turned, looked pointedly at me and said, ‘It was, in fact, the acting that was convincing’. As he turned away, I realised what a career-limiting comment was.

Having no idea that he had just insulted our generous hostess, Jeff continued to open his mouth and insert his foot. He candidly said he had not even seen her new movie Clueless. Alicia’s mother turned to Jeff and politely, but in an ice-cold voice, said, ‘You would not like it’, and turned away. Needless to say, our discussion on the way home was not pleasant. Over time Jeff apologised for this night. And, like all understanding spouses, I bring this story up as much as possible, ensuring his punishment continues well into our marriage.

Another story I like to bring up is one that displays the ‘whatever it takes’ attitude Jeff had during his radio days. While he was working for Austereo’s Fox FM, everyone there was at war with the rival station Triple M — it was a ratings war, and, in their minds, it truly was rate or die. Jeff and his colleague Sean had heard that Triple M was launching its new major promotion for the year and that all the top advertising agencies had been invited to the launch. Triple M was throwing a massive party with no expense spared, and with all the personalities, glitz and glamour that only the 1980s could provide.

Jeff and Sean knew they had to find out what Triple M was launching, so they asked a make-up artist at Channel 7 to make them look like advertising executives. Then, with their new moustaches (it was the 1980s), baggy suits and ponytails down their backs, they attended the launch. Jeff recalls shaking hands and talking to arch enemies, all while trying to keep a straight face. As soon as Triple M completed the presentation, Sean and Jeff snuck out through the back door, giggling like schoolgirls, drove to the Fox FM offices and formulated a plan to ruin Triple M’s launch.

The Triple M promotion was based on a space theme, so Jeff and Sean worked through the night and created a promotion that was based around a sex in space theme. They then launched the promotion prior to Triple M, meaning Triple M would look like a copycat if it went ahead with its promotion. The cost of the launch for Triple M was in vain, and the potential spend that it was hoping to receive never materialised. Needless to say, Jeff was not that popular.

Over the first few years of our relationship, whenever people from Jeff’s past told me they knew Jeff from his work in radio, I would hold my breath. What they said next could be really, really good or really, really bad. Either way, there was a general respect for this amazing man, who did achieve the unachievable in radio (more on this in the next section).

Aside from a few hiccups and stories such as these, our relationship went from strength to strength, and Jeff and I had decided we would be together forever. However, I was still ‘patiently’ waiting for him to pop the question. Even fate sometimes needs a little nudge, so for several weeks I took Jeff to every romantic spot I could think of. Finally, it was the Yarra Valley and Domaine Chandon (Möet & Chandon’s Australian winery) that did it. This was my final ditch effort to ‘set the scene’. I made sure he had a couple of courage drinks and then we went for a quiet walk, through the vineyard then down to the beautiful, blue lake at the bottom of the hill. We all sat to look at the white swans in the distance: Samuel, Jeff and me. Just when I was giving up all hope of him asking me and running out of ideas for romantic rendezvous, I turned to see Jeff on one knee. My heart jumped up into my throat as he asked me to marry him. He had with him a beautiful engagement ring to seal the deal (so had obviously cottoned on to my machinations). Once I said yes (surprise, surprise), Jeff turned to Samuel and asked him if he could be his Dad and gave Samuel a ring. Jeff is a true romantic. I will always remember that day, even if I did ‘help’ to set the scene.

Things had moved quickly with Jeff and continued to. He moved in with me six weeks after our first date, we were engaged after four months, married after eight months and I was pregnant with our son Oliver after 12 months.

Dormant DNA

Having learned an enormous amount at UIP about the power of PR, I left after two years to have our son, Oliver, and freelance. Six weeks after Oliver was born, I was doing the publicity to launch Triple M’s new rock, sport and comedy format. (Triple M had been bought by the Austereo network and the new format was Jeff’s strategy to revive the failing station.) At the same time, I set up the marketing and publicity for a comedian who was touring with Stealth Productions — a business Jeff ran with his mate Sean. When I found Jeff, he unleashed that elusive entrepreneurial spirit within me; I never went back to work for someone else again.

It was also during this time that Jeff and I tried our first joint business venture — a novelty book called Love Cheques. We had spotted a similar book in the United States, and we hoped we could convert the concept, put our own local slant on it and bang! Have the next big thing on our hands.

The book contained cheques that you used as little gifts — an IOU message, that kind of thing. I thought Love Cheques would be the beginning and we would have Kid Cheques, Mum Cheques, Dad Cheques and so on. Love Cheques did okay, but the series I had dreamed of never materialised. We also published a book called The Asian Mind Game, by Chin-Ning Chu. We thought this was going to be another winner but, after a book tour and launch, there was very little to show for all our efforts. With two ventures under our belt and no money, we decided that publishing was not for us. We learned a lot and that’s one thing Jeff and I have never been afraid of. So what if we’ve never tried it before? We’ll learn (see lesson 4).

Spinning my wheels

Nine months after the birth of Oliver I found myself pregnant again with our son Riley. Riley was only five months old when an associate and his friend contacted Jeff with a ‘great idea’. These men were professional corporate types complete with the appropriate degrees but no retail business experience. They wanted Jeff to join them because of his marketing expertise — but it seemed to me that, to them, I was just ‘Jeff’s wife’, so I was not mentioned. I was just someone who had babies and probably didn’t have a business bone in her body. This was not the first, nor the last time, I experienced ‘the female is not as good as the bloke’ syndrome. This was just the first time it was thrown in my face.

Jeff’s associates had seen the juice bar concept in the United States, where the industry had been established for around seven years and was quite large. They were pretty sure it would work well in Australia. Jeff was heading off to the States for a radio trip, so I went with him to investigate the juice bars. I personally really liked the category of health and was a big juicer at home. When shopping with my kids, none of the takeaway options offered anything that was healthy to eat or drink; I saw a huge opportunity in the marketplace, if we could offer a truly healthy option. So the juice and smoothie market interested me, and the great news was we found the industry was thriving in the States, so all the equipment (such as industrial juicers and blenders) was easily available. (The bad news was I would have to import everything from overseas.) However, I was not a huge fan of the existing concepts that we saw in the United States. So we had the spark of an idea, but an otherwise blank page.

When we got back to Australia, after careful consideration I said we should do it, but stipulated that our concept needed to be healthier and brighter than the US versions, and needed to define and demonstrate what we do. This was all just gut reaction. I had never started my own business — I was simply going on what I would want as a consumer. I asked myself, How would I like to be treated? How would I like the concept to look?

We started working in partnership with the two men, but right from the start I had little to no voice. I felt that nothing I said was taken seriously. Even the name we settled on — Sejuice — was not something I was happy with. This was my first experience in partnerships and it was not going well. The ‘boys’ were more interested in the colours than the nuts and bolts of how the store would work. We hired a designer for the store and she wanted a red ceiling. We had a 5-hour discussion on whether or not to go with this colour! Decisions were made by committees and everyone tried to have a say, instead of people sticking with what they knew best or had real experience in. Our associate wanted to get involved in the colour scheme, the other partner wanted to have a say in the marketing because he’d once done it as a subject at university. This unorganised approach was not how I was used to getting things done and it was driving me mad!

However, this did not stop me from putting the store together from scratch. While everyone else was just talking about it, I organised everything from the ground up. I sourced the equipment, I created and tested the recipes at home with my blender, I negotiated the deal with the raw ingredient distributors and the yoghurt contract, and I hired the staff and ordered the uniforms — everything. And I kept the process on track and on budget.

After nine months of planning, working, negotiating and putting the store together, it finally opened on Chapel Street, St Kilda (in Melbourne), and it was a massive relief. Certainly not my vision on the look or the name, but I was proud of the products I created, the early systems that were put in place, and the fact that I survived opening a new business with the partners that I had. I loved the journey of putting the business together, solving the problems and creating something from thin air. The store opened to strong sales and we made a profit from day one. The future looked bright.

However, the nine months of preparation, and particularly how I was treated by the other partners, took its toll on my relationship with Jeff. I did not feel supported by any of the associates and nor by Jeff, who seemed to be siding with the others. I just could not seem to get through to him. Jeff was a powerful executive in the radio industry but had never been a director of a business before. He liked the idea of having his own business and sitting in a director position, but didn’t really want to get involved in the day-to-day organisation. And he thought surely the highly educated associates would know more than his wife.

In his role within the corporate world, Jeff was surrounded by lawyers, accountants and other corporate types. These people were all highly educated and were constantly doing courses to improve every aspect of their work. The radio industry was tough and ruthless — unless you rated, you did not survive and the ratings come out every six weeks. So it was probably natural at the time for Jeff to assume that the ‘boys’ knew more than his wife. But it did not stop me feeling unsupported and underrated. It was disappointing enough to not get the support of the other partners, but it was the lack of support from Jeff that hit the hardest. Jeff and I have talked about this time at great lengths. He is not proud of himself for how he acted then (see lesson 5).

The reality was that I did not have any of the partners’ respect. In their eyes, I had no experience; I was a mother of three children and I had never employed anyone. Though this was semi-true, the store’s success was all coming together, regardless of my ‘lack of experience’. None of the partners had had any idea of all the moving parts required to start a business from scratch, including myself. I was so proud of what I had put together. I started to gain confidence and was looking forward to fulfilling the business vision. My style was based on common sense and solving each problem as it occurred. (I once read an Albert Einstein quote that said he didn’t consider himself a genius; he just stayed with problems longer. I am certainly no Einstein, but I too stay with problems until I find a solution.)

We had our first board meeting not long after the opening. I remember that day as if it were yesterday. Everyone was shaking hands and congratulating each other when the discussion of who would run the business and be the CEO began. This came as a complete surprise to me; I had assumed that because I had put the business together, I would continue to run it. My name was submitted by one of the partners; the remaining associates looked at each other and laughed. They laughed as if that was one of the funniest things anyone could say. I was mortified, shocked and offended by the way they were so open about their lack of confidence. One of many thoughts at the time was, Hey, excuse me; I am actually in the room! To Jeff’s credit, he looked at them, then at my mortified face, and got up, grabbed my hand and we both walked out. By the time we reached the car there was not a doubt in either of our minds — we wanted out of the partnership. Jeff finally saw what was going on and realised what I was capable of. The next day we got our initial $25 000 back and they gave me some money for my ‘time’. We never looked back. I have never loved my husband more than that day, as I finally felt supported and heard. When you marry, you expect to be in a partnership in every way; it felt like our marriage was just about to start.

The remaining partners thought they had received the deal of a life time. They got the store and it only cost them about the same money as we had already put up. Sejuice continued for another couple of years, but the big plans of expansion and being a dominant player never materialised. The store finally closed and we never heard from the partners again.