Kenneth Hardman was known as ‘Hardman’ by name and by nature amongst the captains of industry. He’d come up the hard way, starting as an almost penniless assistant in a clothing shop, somehow, he’d acquired some cash and before anybody knew it, he’d taken over the shop, then he was opening branches in other towns, he launched a public company which was to lead him to becoming chairman of a national retail chain. He had a ruthless determination to add wealth to wealth, cut out the middlemen, get control of the manufacturing end as well, and all the profits along the line would be his.
Takeovers, asset stripping, causing redundancies – it was all part of the game to him. He had taken over several small clothing manufacturers and now they were brought together under one brand label that was soon one of the leaders in the country. He had 25% stake in Wonder- Wear and the way he could conjure up profits and increase dividends, ensured he was annually re-elected to chair the board.
Then factory workers started to strike for higher pay and cheaper foreign imported clothes were beginning to compete for the home market. Kenneth Hardman was one of the first to start closing down the factories he controlled and transfer production to the Far East. Massive redundancies were just numbers on paper to him. There was no line in company accounts for human compassion.
He sent out his emissaries to establish where in Asia labour was cheapest and industrial health and safety regulation the weakest. In those countries he established his factories where managers were paid high production bonuses and the shop floor workers increasingly exploited.
The shareholders rejoiced when the dividends were announced each year and applauded the chairman. Kenneth Hardman self-made multi-millionaire, heading towards the top of the rich list, hoping for a knighthood for services to industry, though a Panorama special, still in the production stages, on conditions in Asian clothing factories was threatening to scupper that. The Rolls and a Bentley too, the Mayfair apartment, the country house and estate in Berkshire, the yacht down at Monte Carlo - all his, and three failed marriages.
Kenneth Hardman so materially rich was abysmally poor, because in spite of it all, he lacked happiness and peace of mind. He’d been to his club that evening and eaten a large supper and had lingered over his port and the cheeseboard. He sat up in bed reading the share prices in the Financial Times before falling into a heavy sleep. Then something unexplainable disturbed him. He woke and saw there was a dim light in the room. A girl who looked about thirteen years old stood by his bed. She had large dark eyes, a dark complexion, her black hair was long and straggly, her dress looked a bit grubby and ragged and she had no shoes on her feet.
He sat up startled and yelled “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m an angel, mister” came her reply.
“Angel! Angel! You look more like something the cat dragged in”
“Now, now Mister, just because you’re wearin’ silk pyjamas, no need to talk to me like that. You’re going to come with me.”
Despite his protests as she took his hand he seemed to bodily rise and float along behind her. She led him through the bedroom door, but instead of coming out onto the landing they were in a large barn filled with children like herself, some looked younger. They were all sat at tables with old treadle operated sewing machines, sewing. A little girl, who was new there, turned to an older one sitting next to her and said “I’m getting tired and hungry. When can we go home?” The older one looked down sadly “Not till six o’clock; we have to complete our twelve-hour shift and stay later if we haven’t fulfilled our quota, so keep working.”
“What are they doing?” said Hardman.
“They spend all day sewing buttons on jeans and trousers” said the angel and picking up some buttons dropped them into his pyjama jacket pocket “Take home a souvenir Mister.”
They passed through another door and were in a small, sparsely furnished hut. The angel pulled back a threadbare blanket curtain to reveal a pallid woman lying on a primitive cot. “This is that little girl’s mother, she’s very sick and the little girl has to work so they can eat. Unfortunately, there are no local medical facilities and they cannot afford to call a doctor.”
Kenneth Hardman awoke the scene still in his mind. It was just a silly dream; maybe he’d eaten too much cheese the night before. He’d get up and get on with the day; there was money to be made. As he got out of bed something tinkled in his silk pyjama jacket. He felt in the pocket and brought out a handful of metal buttons each one embossed with the logo “Wonder-Wear.”
Still in a state of shock, at nine ‘o’clock he rang his PA; he was going to be away for a few days. Straight to Heathrow he was on the first non-stop flight to the Far East. He found the factory and he found the little girl and her mother. He arranged the mother’s transfer to a hospital and for some-one to care for the child.
Within a short time back in England he called a special meeting of the shareholders. He announced that there were to be no dividends paid this year. Instead, he outlined plans to update the factories in the Far East, provide medical care, improve working conditions, end child labour and pay adults a wage sufficient to bring up families and educate them without the need for children to work.
The faces of the other board members and shareholders dropped. “Hardman’s gone mad” they muttered. “We’ll never be able to maintain our standard of living”.” My dividends pay for my annual cruise holiday,” said one. “I was going to put mine towards a second home by the sea,” said another. Within days an extraordinary meeting of shareholders voted Kenneth Hardman off the board; he had lost influence and control. He went quietly away into seclusion.
Nobody noticed when he sold his Mayfair flat, his yacht and his Berkshire estate. The stock market didn’t comment when bit by bit he disposed of all his shares in the retail chain and stepped down as chairman. He’d upset the shareholders in Wonder-Wear; perhaps he was better gone than introducing any hair brained schemes into the retail sector.
Then the Panorama special on working conditions in Wonder-Wear’s Asian factories hit the small screen. Overnight Wonder-Wear became less popular. A newspaper headline quipped “Dirty Wonder-Wear needs Laundering”. Share prices started to fall rapidly and everyone wanted to get rid of them, but as they fell, through an intermediary an unknown person was buying them all up. Kenneth Hardman had been doing some homework and on the same day it was announced that he now owned and controlled Wonder-Wear he announced his reform plan. He had studied the work and achievements of the Frys and the Cadbury brothers, the Quaker confectioners and immediately started to put into action the plans that had got him voted off the board a year previously.
Now he lives modestly, the wellbeing of the Asian workers is his main aim. He has lost the desire to be materially rich but he has a wealth of happiness and contentment. When bigger profits are made, they are ploughed back into housing and leisure facilities for the workers. All Wonder-Wear clothes are now tagged “Fair Trade” and they only use organic raw materials. Kenneth is no longer called ‘Hardman’ by nature, but he’s sometimes called ‘Softie’ Hardman in business circles.
He never actually saw the angel again, but recently he’s certain he woke once in the middle of the night and out of the darkness he heard her say “Thanks Mister, well done.”
About the author
Guy Pratt is a retired octogenarian second hand bookseller who enjoys gardening, long walks with his dog and travel. He gravitated into the book trade after earlier years in farming, the army Intelligence Corps and the civil service.
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