2008

‘You must learn about strategic inflection points because sooner or later you are going to live through one’ - Steve Jobs

The year is 2011 and it has taken me three years to write about this.

On the 24th April 2008 two policemen turned up to my house. Half asleep, I stumbled downstairs to hear my mother sobbing in the background. They had come to deliver some bad news.

‘Are you Andrew?’

‘Yes I am, who are you? What are you doing in my house?’

‘Son, we are really sorry but your father passed away last night.’

I’d prepared for this day for years. I knew it was coming. I just did not expect it to come today. Several things raced through my mind. First, my exams were due to start. Second, how was I going to pay for this house? Third, it hit me – I’ve just lost my father.

He wasn’t going to come back. He wasn’t going to shout at me to wake up earlier because our time on this planet is limited. He wasn’t going to debate what is going on in the markets, or teach me what matters when running a household. He wasn’t going to listen to the football on the radio with me (he was blind before he passed away). He wasn’t going to hear about all the things I would go on to do and to achieve in the years ahead. He wouldn’t be there to tell me what to do in case I ran out of cash. He wouldn’t be there to help me prepare for interviews, or how to network and talk to people properly. Heck he wouldn’t be there to kick my ass when I deserved it.

My mother on the other hand found it difficult to cope with the situation and at first wouldn’t accept he was gone. I knew this wasn’t the case. He was gone and he wouldn’t be coming back. I went straight to my parents account to check what was left in the bank - £50.00 ! It was the middle of the month. What on earth was going on in this household?

I left home. I had given myself zero time to mourn. I phoned my current girlfriend at the time told her what happened. I went straight to university postponed my exams, saw my best friend and handled a few other chores for the day. I told them what had happened and that I would be unavailable for at least two months. This led to me breaking up with my girlfriend several months later. Inevitable really.

I came back home called five key people in my dad’s massive diary and they did the rest of the work for me. At that moment I felt alone.

I grew up as an only child but this type of loneliness is something worse. I don’t have a relationship per se with my mother. She’s not well and refuses to get any help. I was on my own.

The next day I define as character building.

I woke up very early in the morning and as I reached downstairs I saw 3 very big burly men at the door. My mother had just opened it.

‘We’re here to take the house’

You may have guessed I had my first experience with bailiffs.

I’m not the most physical person in the world. I don’t particularly remember how this happened but I ran straight into these three guys and pushed all of them back before they could enter the house.

I shut the door. Locked it and ushered my mum into the living room.

‘You have to trust me now.’

It was awful. They were screaming my full name; they were saying they’d call for more people to break the door open. They said they knew what University I went to. They would follow me anywhere I went. I can still hear those voices very clearly today. My head hurt. It wasn’t the typical headache. I can’t quite explain it. But I felt sick. I thought I was going to collapse and I went and drank a big glass of water from a dirty mug I hadn’t cleaned in the kitchen.

At this point, I really did not care.

I went upstairs. I shut my door. I lay on my bed. I don’t think I even moved. I didn’t go back to open the curtains. I lay there motionless. I did not speak. I did not answer the phone. I just lay there all day.

I felt scared. I had all these people to deal with. I had a girlfriend who was worried sick. My friends were not really able to help me here and I had other non-essential items floating around my head. I fell asleep.

A few days passed and things subsided. I had spoken to the bank numerous times about how I’d solve the money issues and the following three years were horrible financially. I’d spent 2002-2008 really making money from speculation and saving. I had a princely sum of £27,534.12 in my broker account and it was about to evaporate to £0.00 within seconds. Thankfully, I cashed out every penny that month. If I had kept it around for any longer it would’ve shrunk dramatically. The markets in September 2008 dived after Lehman Brothers collapsed and the world almost ended. I think that was luck more than skill.

The funeral itself was a smoothly run affair. Several of my close friends turned up. They got my back. My family were civil that day. I was left to my own devices. My uncle gave a brilliant eulogy to my father.

Closure.

I grew up that day. I became more self-sufficient. If it taught me one thing it was this– Do not borrow money! They would still demand a payment even though I would be mailing out death certificates in the post. This hurt it was personal. The person on the end of the phone did not care one jot. I learnt how bad the banks treat ordinary consumers, how inefficient our government is and how tactless it is during the rocky times people face in life. The Department for Welfare and Pensions wrote me a letter pretty much stating – ‘please return £xxx.xx by such and such a date.’

Truly awful behaviour.

I sat down for the next few weeks to plan our finances. Everything had to be slashed. No more Marks and Spencer shopping, no insurance, no more eating out so often, no more treats, no holidays. I did not take a holiday for several years after my father had passed away

I slashed so many things that I grew up enjoying. I had to learn how to cook proper food on a regular basis and on a tight budget. I had to learn how to manage my money. I had two scrappy part time jobs, an overdraft and a years worth of student loan.

I had to graduate within a year and get a place on a top masters program.

No pressure.

My University were very helpful and really accommodating. I sat my exams a few months later and passed with flying colours. It made me happy albeit temporarily but I knew I’d have to make one more sacrifices this year.

I started my final year on a good note. I had solid grades and I was fairly confident a 2.1 would be nothing more than a formality. I sat down with my tutors and explained my burning desire to go straight to grad school.

‘I want to go to the LSE.’

I felt confident. My tutors believed in me. So, I sent off my application to the LSE to study Comparative Politics. Decisions wouldn’t be made until Christmas. My next obstacle was financing the damn thing.

The first term was horrible. The workload stepped up a lot. I was accused of plagiarism and threatened with being kicked out of University. I had not yet managed to really get a handle on our finances at home so every decision now was about negotiating with all our creditors and scouring Google for ways to save cash.

At this point, things were pretty bleak.

Then things turned a corner.

In the middle of December I received an offer to study for a masters at the LSE. A week later the scholarship confirmation arrived in the post with a shiny offer pack. One year later the Cooperative Bank agreed to underwrite my masters degree for the remaining amount.

Looking back, the last eight months of 2008 were definitive. I rate them as the most productive period of my life to date. Real work got done. More work is needed. Bettering myself is going to take a very long time. The road ahead is going to be full of more challenging obstacles.

In any case, the year 2008 was the year that shaped me.