The Visitors(26)

There’s no need for her to know my intentions at this point.

She’ll become aware of them soon enough.





Chapter Twenty-One





Holly





The day after her interview, Holly started the new job.

On her arrival at the main entrance, she was impressed that Mr Kellington himself had taken the time to give her a tour of the large three-storey premises.

Afterwards, he spoke to her for a good thirty minutes in his office, availing her of the family history behind the company and the ethos that he said made Kellington’s different.

‘We’re a business like any other,’ he began, lifting his chin and tweaking his black-and-white-spotted bow tie. ‘But our customer service must never be sacrificed in favour of the balance sheet. As my father told me when I started here fifty years ago as an apprentice: the customer always comes first at Kellington’s.’

Holly nodded in all the right places, but as Mr Kellington continued, she started to understand.

‘When a customer approaches you, we don’t click the stopwatch here, Holly. If they want to talk about the holiday they’ve just returned from in the Caribbean, then listen. Maybe tell them it’s a place you’ve always wanted to go, or talk about your own holiday experiences to build some rapport.’

Fat chance of that, Holly thought. She hadn’t taken a holiday in years.

‘Get to know the products inside out so you can best advise the customer on what they need. They might not know themself, and you can help them make the necessary decisions. And the most important thing of all,’ Mr Kellington added, ‘is to remember there’s no hard sell here. You will receive a good commission structure for all goods sold, but we want our customers to return, not to feel they’ve been pressured or fleeced.’

Holly immediately thought about her last job before leaving Manchester. It had been in a vast, impersonal call centre, selling life insurance. The manager had told her to say literally anything to get the customers to buy, particularly during December, when family took priority over telesales products and any spare cash was spent on presents.

‘Scare them with the facts,’ he’d said. ‘Ask them what good all their gifts will do if their family get lumbered with crippling funeral costs.’

‘That seems a bit mean,’ Holly had countered. ‘To be talking about death, I mean, at Christmas.’

The manager had laughed at her na?vety. ‘It’s a fact of life, love! Try googling celebs who’ve died on Christmas Day; you’ll be surprised how many there are. Rattling off a few well-known names who’ve carked it soon brings it home to the customer that these things can happen to anyone. Get their bank details and get them off the phone quick as you can, so you can sign up the next one.’

She’d lasted almost three weeks there, until a recently widowed lady had broken down when Holly had used the ‘Christmas death’ sales line. She’d decided there and then that she couldn’t do it any more.

So when Mr Kellington outlined the exact opposite policy at the store, Holly smiled appreciatively and nodded.

‘As my father once said to me, people buy from people,’ he stressed. ‘And I would add that they especially buy from people that they trust and like.’

She left the MD’s office not only feeling that she knew practically every last sales tip that Mr Kellington’s father had ever uttered, but also with a sense that there was a chance she might make a real difference here, and be good at it too.

That wasn’t something she’d been used to in her previous call-centre roles, where new staff were viewed as constant, transient fodder.

It would’ve been easy to take everything Mr Kellington had said with a pinch of salt and concentrate on maximising her own sales – she’d been very pleasantly surprised at the excellent commission structure – but Holly decided to follow his advice.

He might appear a touch eccentric, wandering around the shop floor with the little notebook he scribbled in constantly, and his striking bow ties – a different design for each day, apparently – but clearly he knew his stuff. And she could tell that his store was a personal passion rather than simply a means of earning as much money as possible.

The assistant manager, Josh Peterson, was particularly helpful. He sort of took Holly under his wing, giving her bits of useful inside information, like Mr Kellington’s bizarre bow ties. He also pointed out Emily Beech, the top saleswoman in the company.

The store showrooms were split into three levels. Bedrooms downstairs, lavish home accessories and staff offices upstairs, and on the ground floor, which was to be Holly’s base, lounge and dining furniture and also lighting.

Holly would be one of four sales assistants working the ground floor, and Emily Beech was another.

Josh lowered his voice, even though Emily was busy with customers over the other side of the showroom.

‘She’s only worked here for a year, but between you and me, with commission, her salary has just exceeded thirty grand. That’s considerably more than any of the other sales staff. Jeez, it’s not that far off my own pay.’

Holly’s eyes widened. She thought of what a salary like that could do for her in terms of paying off her debt and achieving the fresh start she craved so badly… Everything suddenly felt so much more achievable.