An evening with Michael Hunt - Volume 1. The art of sales.

An evening with Michael Hunt is a blog, where I explain to the voters of tomorrow my experiences in the real world, stories of success, and general policy ideas that I plan to implement. To start the series, I have decided to tell a story from my teenage years, which gives you some background of how I got into the world of politics and economics.

Hi there, Michael Hunt here. I’m a Young Conservative, situated in Plymouth. I have been into politics since I was 17, although I delved into the world of economics from the age of 12.

It was playground politics. The masses all wanted Doritos and Lucozade, but didn’t have the funds. Instead of buying lunch for one week, I invested into wholesale, and I left the corner shop with 2 multipacks of Doritos and 16 Lucozades to my name. It cost me just under 12 pounds, a big investment for a small business such as mine.

Monday morning, I walked into Biology feeling like a champion. In street value, I had 20 pounds worth of goods. I retailed Lucozades at a pound each, meaning I doubled my original investment with every 4 I sold. The Doritos sold for 50p a packet, but the profit margins were not as substantial as the Lucozades. This was my first lesson in business.

I mustered up a client base by the end of the lesson through word of mouth. I had classmates passing notes down the table with their orders on it, and during first break I met up with them round the back of the gym to sell my stock. They spread the word to their friends and by lunchtime I had pre-orders on all my stock. By the end of lunch, I had no goods left to sell, but was leaving with 20 pounds worth of change in my pocket and a huge smile on my face. I was ecstatic. I felt I had just won the euro-millions whilst at the same time eating a filet mignon soaked in a red wine sauce.

On the way home I decided to go to the co-op as opposed to the corner shop, as I felt they may stock more variety. It was here when I encountered some phenomenal business opportunities. They were stocking a crate of Pepsi, where 6 cans came to a total of 2 pounds. I couldn’t believe my luck. I had struck gold. Even though the cans held less liquid than the Lucozade bottles, I knew I could sell them for the same price. Fizzy drinks were in demand, and I was the only supplier. Instead of doubling my money with the Lucozade, I could triple my money with the Pepsi cans. They said on the cans that they were a multipack purchase and not for re-sale, but you have to break a few fish eggs to make caviar. I brought 60 cans for 20 pounds, and I spent 3 hours carrying it all home. Despite my young age, I was motivated for the graft, and my business ventures were worth it.

I went into school Tuesday morning with half of the cans I had purchased. Even though I was the only supplier, I felt 60 cans would be hard to shift in a day, and my backpack could just about hold the 30 cans. The fact I didn’t bring them all in made them more exclusive. In French, people were passing me notes asking for Lucozade, but I had to inform them that I was out of stock. They were displeased, but soon lightened up when I told them the news of the arrival of Pepsi. I had pre-orders for 8 cans by the end of the lesson, and a further 7 cans during the preceding Maths class. I started making the sales in the classroom as opposed to behind the gym, meaning people could get their hands on the products right away.

My first hurdle came later that day. I was overconfident by this point, thinking the demand would still be there, but a lot of my clients had already got their products for the day. Business had slowed down and I had only sold 3 more cans before lunch time. This meant I had 12 more to sell. I was reluctant to call it a day, but halfway through lunchtime I had an idea. The footballers didn’t know about my business yet, as word of mouth hadn’t reached them due to all of them being in considerably lower sets than me. I knew that they played at bottom field during lunchtime, so I made my way down there. I felt a tension when I arrived. Half of them barely knew my name, and I felt intimidated going over and pitching my product. I decided to join the bystanders, and I opened a can of Pepsi. I knew it would marginally eat into my profit margins, but it was a hot day and I could put it down as business expenses. 2 sips into my can, a large, sweaty footballer shouted over to me. “Oi you fat gimp, where did you get that from?”

Other footballers started to glance over, intrigued and thirsty. My product was a real head turner. I informed them that I had eleven left to sell. They looked confused. I was selling cans of drink but I wasn’t a shop. This level of intellect was new to these people. Suddenly, the fatter kid who was playing in goal approached me. “Lets get 2 then, mate.” I informed him that it would come to 2 pounds, and he passed over some sweaty change from his clammy palms. After that the others followed suit, and within 2 minutes I was out of stock. Many of the footballers went without drink, but I told them that sales are on a first come, first served basis. On the way home I brought another 30 cans for 10 pounds and started preparations for the next day.

It was a hot Wednesday morning in May. I had asked my mum to borrow one of her trolleys with wheels on. It was a lavender colour with pink patterns. A few of the kids laughed at me on the way to school, but I was the one having the last laugh. The trolley meant I could easily carry 60 cans with me, and there was just enough room for my PE kit. Wednesday was PE day, so I knew I would have custom. In the changing rooms after the lesson, I sold 2 cans to my friend Pete, who had pre-ordered during the lesson. I made sure to make a big thing of selling it so others would notice.

“Have you got any more?” I heard across the other side of the changing room. I informed the class that I had enough to go round, but it would cost them a pound if they wanted one. Not a single person didn’t take up this offer, with some of them buying multiple cans. I sold thirty six cans in fifteen minutes. I worked out that you had to subtract 12 pounds for the initial cost of the product, but I had profited 24 pounds in that quarter of an hour. I worked out that if you multiplied this by 4 I was technically on 96 pounds an hour. That was more than my dads’ wage at Natwest.

I still had 24 cans left to sell. I waited until lunchtime to strike at the footballers again (no pun intended.) I gave them half an hour of playtime before I graced them with my presence, allowing a decent time span in order for them to get hot and sweaty. When I arrived the play stopped. Half of them ran over to me, fumbling about for spare change in their pockets. I sold the rest of my stock by the end of lunch, and was going to be leaving the school day with 60 pounds in change that I kept in a tupperware box.

After lunch I went to my Spanish lesson, but my teacher had redirected me to the headmasters office. I knew something wasn’t right. When I arrived I got told that an anonymous source had told a teacher that I had been selling contraband on the schools premises. I had no stock left on me so I thought I could lie my way out of things, like any good politician can. My downfall was that my lunchtime dealings were witnessed by an English teacher on a fag break. This provided them with enough evidence to put me in detention after school for the rest of the week, with the promise that my parents would be called if I was to start selling again.

I arrived home late and my mum was curious as to why. I decided to tell her the truth, as she already knew I was selling drinks in the school. She told me that if she got a phone call home, she wouldn’t punish me for what I was doing, as she knew I had a vision and the skills to make Michael Hunt Enterprise a success. I carried on selling canned drinks, although the special offer was for Fanta now instead of Pepsi. I kept a lower profile, and took a part-time approach to the business. 30 cans a day in my backpack, with 20 reserved for the footballers who were returning customers, and the other 10 were sold to whoever got there first. I started selling to the footballers by the goal, as they used bags for goalposts and it would look less suspicious. I was never caught again.

I kept this up throughout the entirety of my school years, and when I had finished my GCSE’s I had saved up just over 4000 pounds. I took this money to the bank and used it on driving lessons. On my first lesson I crashed into a tree and the car was written off. I had to fork out 4000 pounds into replacing the car and the fencing around the tree.

Despite the sad ending to the business, I wasn’t disheartened. I had found a love for politics through choosing it as one of my A-Levels. Even though all of my profit had gone, I knew the business was a success. It was from that day that I knew in my heart no matter what came my way, Michael Hunt would rise above it. Michael Hunt was born to succeed.