Eating humble pie

AT A National Enterprise conference hosted by Clonmel Chamber of Commerce in 2010, local businessman George Mordaunt brought the audience of government ministers, TDs, captains of industry and local business owners to tears with his shocking account of how the recession had affected his health, his family, and the business he had nurtured all his working life.

The room fell silent as Mordaunt admitted to having “fucked up” by taking his eye off the ball in the good times; described the devastating impact of being hounded by the banks for money they’d been only too glad to advance him in the boom years; and spoke of his fear of losing all that he had worked so hard to achieve.

The reaction to Mordaunt’s story was unprecedented. Within days, it had moved from the front page of every local newspaper into the national press, and onto national radio and television.

“For weeks afterwards my phone never stopped ringing,” Mordaunt now recalls. “Not just from the media, but also from business owners from all over the country. From craftsmen to plumbers to farmers, all in the same boat, all feeling despair and needing a bit of encouragement and guidance.”

Shortly afterwards, following a hugely positive response to an interview he gave on TV3’s Morning Show, Mordaunt decided to write a book about his experiences. “I wanted to share my story and try to demonstrate that we are all in this together so there’s no point being embarrassed if you are in an ailing business, or ignoring how difficult life is.”

Less than a year on, the newly launched, Shepherd’s Pie has been hailed as “one of the best books you’re ever likely to read about what went wrong in our country and why” by Barnardos CEO Fergus Finlay. Describing its author as “a man only too well aware of his own failings”, Finlay says that the book deserves to be read by everyone who has lived through the highs and lows of the last 15 years.

“It is the most searingly honest account I’ve read anywhere about what it was like to ride the Tiger — and ultimately to be almost devoured by it.”

Certainly from a man who by his own admission “hated school with a passion”, was branded as “stupid and laughable” at primary school, and failed almost every exam he ever took, this self-penned tale of triumph and disaster is remarkably well told and utterly compelling.

After short-lived stints as a postman and bread delivery man, on January 6, 1987, 17-year-old George Mordaunt was taken on in his father’s thriving car dealership in Clonmel. By then, he had already met Anne, the girl who would become his wife.

However, although Mordaunt quickly learned the ropes, he and his father regularly clashed over business strategy, with Mordant senior advocating caution while his son sought only to take risks, expand and grow the business. On September 11, 2001, their agendas were to be tested in a way that neither father nor son could possibly have imagined.

“It was time for lunch so I zoomed down the road to meet my wife Anne for a sandwich,” Mordant recalls. “The next 10 minutes changed my world forever, and within 40 days my working relationship with my father would end.”

Post 9/11, with 170 vehicles stockpiled and business at a standstill, Mordaunt embarked on a highly innovative marketing campaign, which immediately paid off. But despite the upturn in sales, relations between father and son went from bad to worse. On October 17, 2001, after a heated family meeting, Mordaunt’s father relinquished control of the business, clearing out his desk and removing his nameplate from the office door the following day.

To this day Mordaunt has regrets about that meeting, despite believing it was never going to have a happy ending. “We had worked brilliantly together even though we had been very hard on each other at times and our father-son relationship had been totally compromised by it.”

Today, however, his relationship with his father is on a smoother course and he professes his love for Mordaunt Sr in his book.

Back then, with his financially prudent father now out of the picture, Mordaunt was free to expand the business; and with his grand plans and soaring profits, the banks were only too happy to row in behind him.

Over the next few years Mordaunt bought 11 houses, a retail shop unit, a crèche, a barber shop, a boutique for his wife, and a share in property consortiums in Germany and Washington. He also built a palatial new home, acquired a further two franchises, and opened four new motor dealerships with a 50-strong team of management and staff. As Mordaunt’s business profile grew, so too did his ego — “I believed I was a captain of industry” — and he began dabbling in shares like AIB and Anglo Irish Banks.

“At one stage we were taking a family holiday to Spain and before the flight I bought AIB shares and instructed my broker to sell them if they reached a certain price. By the time I landed in Spain I was €10,000 better off.”

Mordaunt freely admits that he lost the run of himself during the good times. Only the best fixtures and fittings were good enough for his showrooms, his staff was equipped with sports cars, and he himself drove only top of the range luxury models. His sales crew were whisked off to international conferences, and customers were wooed with helicopter rides.

Then, as quickly as it had inflated, the bubble burst. Almost overnight, Mordaunt morphed from captain of industry to just another punter in negative equity. With the motor industry in freefall, and his ‘gilt-edged’ investments plummeting, he was now being badgered by the banks for immediate payment of loans totalling millions he’d secured with personal guarantees. Suddenly, everything he held most dear — his family, his home, his health, his livelihood — was under threat.

With combined overdrafts exceeding €1.3 million and business losses of €100,000 per month Mordaunt could see no way out. “Every day was a battle,” he recalls. “I was jaded. Lonely. Terrified.”

The crunch came one winter’s evening in 2009. After yet another stressful day at work, Mordaunt returned home on the verge of tears. In the kitchen his kids were tucking into a dinner of shepherd’s pie. This heart-warming tableau of everyday family life suddenly galvanised Mordaunt into action and provided him with the title of the book he would later write. “A sense of urgency came over me,” he explains. “I thought to myself, ‘Hey asshole, wake up, you’ve got to get out there and find tomorrow’s shepherd’s pie. This is your problem. Fix it’.”

This marked George Mordaunt’s return from the brink. Almost two years on, having “learned to keep a firm grip on the massive ego” he still fights every day to keep his business afloat. However, with the benefit of hindsight he now sees his struggle as part of a bigger picture.

“When I reflect on this journey — its challenges and the challenges that lie ahead, I think to myself, ‘This too shall pass’.”

* Shepherd’s Pie is published by Mercier Press, €14.99