“Hey Tim! We gotta get together and make some money man!”
Those were the last words I heard from Arnold before his arrest the following morning.
I was in the t-shirt business and looking to move off the beach and into a proper shop. I’d approached Arnold a week or so before as he had a space available in his new luxury apartment building, The Palm Club and I knew he was looking for up-coming businesses to collaborate with.
Arnold was in his mid-fifties but had the physique of a much younger man. He was an avid kite-surfer and was married to a lovely local woman who taught Spanish. I had taken some classes with her a few months earlier and we’d become good friends. Arnold had been taken from his marital bed by local intelligence forces in the early hours of the morning and had been whisked over to the mainland without delay. His wife was understandably devastated and left utterly in the dark as to why he had been taken.
My plans to rent a shop space from Arnold were completely derailed, I thought, so I began looking for alternatives. I needn’t have worried because a week or so later I received a call. I answered the phone to hear a faint voice asking me if I would accept a call from inmate number 12345. I paused for a moment but knew right away who it must be. I accepted the call and after a click sound, Arnold’s cheerful voice came faintly through.
“Hey Tim, you still want the shop?”
“Sure” I said, “what terms do you propose?”
We spoke for a few minutes more and reached an agreement that I would rent the shop at a fixed rate for the year ahead. He assured me that he would not be convicted but in any case his wife would be happy to administer the deal and the full amount should be wired to his business partner in Miami without delay.
At this stage no-one knew what charges Arnold was facing, least of all his wife. She continued delivering Spanish classes and remained hopeful that she would see her husband soon.
I wanted to arrange the transfer immediately as I had been told that there were other interested parties and I shouldn’t delay the payment. It’s possible that I was manipulated in this respect but I didn’t care as all I could see was the advancement of my business. The shop was going to enable me to really launch my brand and if my sales on the beach were anything to go by, I was in line for great success.
As I said, I phoned my bank to arrange the transfer but for some reason, an administrative problem I was told, there would be a delay, over a week they said. This wouldn’t do. I spent the rest of that morning trying to work out a way forward but having found no solutions by lunchtime I decided to take a break and headed down to my favorite bar for a spot of lunch.
Rich was already on the rum when I arrived. He and his nephew, Manny were regulars and could be found there on most days from opening time to close. Rich was a fun guy, a little crazy at times, he once destroyed his girlfriends’ mint condition Hummer 3 using rocks and his bare hands because he was mad at her. Manny always looked like he was in a bad mood but was actually quite laid back, especially after 15 cocktails. I had got on well with Rich and Manny since meeting them one drunken night.
As I waited for my food to arrive I told them about my planned shop rental and mentioned the delay with the bank. Upon hearing of the delay, and the possible consequences Rich suggested that he lend me the necessary funds and I make the transfer to him as soon as my bank had sorted itself out. I was a little reluctant at first but my desire to close the deal got the better of any concerns I had so I accepted his offer.
I received a call from Arnold a day or two later to tell me that the money had been received and I could collect the shop keys whenever I liked. I made the transfer to Rich’s account and that was that. It is worth mentioning at this point that a year or two later I heard that Rich was serving five years in prison somewhere in Eastern Europe for his involvement in some dark deeds in that region. I couldn’t tell you exactly what theses deeds were and I don’t know if the rumor was true but it certainly made me think about our transaction.
The month that followed was full of work. I remodeled the shop completely, adding a storage cupboard and a dressing room. I built a solid wood desk and ordered a stainless steel and neon sign for the wall outside. Everything looked really cool. I had put a couple of hundred shirts in to be printed and had chosen all the bikinis I was to begin selling. I was confident that everything would be ready for opening day.
A few days before my official opening I had to take all my company paperwork to my accountant’s office for processing. It is the norm here that when a foreigner registers a business they should have a local partner. In this time of vigorous Nationalism the local partner’s name on the top of all company paperwork will ease its progress through the bureaucratic maze and satisfies the authorities that at least one Venezuelan is benefiting from the venture. With this in mind I had taken on a silent partner, his name was Marvin and we had to complete all the necessary documentation to legally register my company.
Although not strictly a local, Marvin had all his papers and would satisfy the authorities’ requirements. He was a nice guy, a massive Brazilian windsurfer with a friendly smile and a super laid back attitude. I had gone to the meeting in Marvin’s car. He and his wife were going to the gym after so I took a taxi back home. The journey home passed without incident thankfully. Recently, it seemed that there had been a lot more police and military activity on the roads. Elections were drawing close so there had been more road blocks and patrols by National Guard. I had run into a few of these in the last month and, being an illegal alien, I’d had to pay off the cops each time. It was never very much money but it wasn’t something I found to be exactly enjoyable.
Anyway, I digress.
We passed the Police checkpoint at the entrance to the village and trundled down the high street. The village seemed exceptionally busy and as we rounded the corner by the Italian Pizza restaurant, The Palm Club came into view and I instantly saw that there were soldiers toting their AK’s and angry looking ‘suits’ crawling all over it. “Fuck this!” I thought, and stopping the taxi, I jumped out and made a dash for my favorite bar. I would have a bite to eat and wait for things to quieten down
I ordered Chili Cheese Fries and a light beer and sat back to look out at the kitesurfers and windsurfers doing their thing on the busy bay. Within a minute or two my phone rang. I looked at it and recognized The Palm Club reception desk number right away. My stomach churned and with a sense of dread I answered the phone.
The receptionist was a dislikeable chap, slicked back hair, almost unintelligible English that he was overly proud of and just a bad attitude. He was sleazy around the female workers and enjoyed ripping off the tourists with the black market money exchanges. “When can you get here?” he said. I caught an expectant, almost excited tone in his voice and my unease deepened. “Give me a minute” I said and with heavy feet I walked the few hundred yards to The Palm Club.
The soldiers eyed me suspiciously but didn’t accost me as I walked up the steps to the front door of my shop. I fished out my keys and, looking out the corner of my eye I saw the receptionist practically dancing as he excitedly pointed at me whilst hailing an enormously fat and disgruntled looking female ‘suit’ I guessed to be a lawyer.
The ‘suit’ walked over to me and without preamble demanded to know who I was. “My name is Tim, and this is my shop” I said, managing to keep my nervousness in check. I extended my hand but it was ignored and she rather angrily said “Right, I want to see your company paperwork and any other relevant documentation immediately.”
There was a pause……
“You’re not going to believe this” I said, “but I have just had a meeting with my accountant and he has all of my documents at his office in town. I can go and get them if you like?”
“No” she said. “You must stay here”
I swallowed hard and hoping he was still in town, I phoned Marvin. No answer. I tried again with the same result. I remembered that he was going to the gym so waited a half an hour longer then tried him again. During the wait I’d been scrutinized by a number of lawyer and official types and had gleaned from the girls in the mini-market that the building was being seized by the Government Anti-Drugs office. I saw Arnold’s wife from a distance and she looked distraught. This was bad.
I kept trying to call Marvin until my phone's battery died. I still hadn’t managed to speak with him. I closed the shop and walked round to reception to ask if I might use their phone. Without a word, I was handed the receiver. The space behind the desk was swarming with ‘suits’ who made no attempt to avoid barging into me as they passed back and forth every second or two. My nervousness had developed into mounting dread as I saw works of art and bits of furniture being carried out to waiting cars and trucks.
Finally Marvin’s wife answered the phone. There followed a rather difficult conversation wherein I had to be as diplomatic as possible and with my limited Spanish explain what was going on whilst keeping in mind that I was being listened to by everyone in the room. It was hard-core. Luckily she understood and assured me that they would get copies of all my documents and bring them to me as soon as possible. I waited a couple of hours and watched a military dictatorship in action.
In due course Marvin and his wife arrived with my papers. They both had questioning looks but I was reluctant to say anything much to them as there were just too many Government officials around and I knew we would have ample time to chat later, providing I wasn’t taken away for interrogation of course. I thanked them and said that I would look them up later to explain what I could. I found the fat lawyer a few minutes later and handed her the documents. She accepted them with a frown and waddled off. There was nothing to do but wait.
The sun was going down by the time she came back with my documents in hand. She frowned at me then stopped three Meters away and chatted with a colleague for what felt like an eternity. I was itching to know my fate; I’d rather just get on with it you know. She glanced in my direction several times until eventually her frown began to soften and she walked over and politely said I could leave. With enormous relief I took my documents and got out of there.
After such a stressful afternoon I was well up for a drink that night. After a few beers on the beach then a meal at my favorite restaurant I found myself in the bar down the street, at the head of the pool table chalking my cue ready to break off. I was about to do so when Jose, another lawyer I’d met earlier walked over to me and said “If you don’t show your tenancy contract and receipt of payment…….”, then he drew his thumb across his throat and grinned at me with a nasty twist to his mouth. The more he drank, the more frequent became his threats and towards the end of the evening they became pretty outrageous. Finally and to my great relief, his companions decided it was time to leave. They took him one on each arm and together they stumbled out. Exhausted and pretty drunk myself, I went home.
It had been a heavy night and with a raging hangover I went to The Palm Club to check in with Arnold’s wife. I asked her if I could get copies of the contract and a receipt for the payment. I should have already received them but under the circumstances I wasn’t going to add to her stress. She was the sweetest lady but I knew she was as strong as steel when I saw her that morning. She had recovered from the shock of it all and her fear had turned into anger. When I told her how Jose had behaved the night before her face hardened further and she strode off to look for him.
I opened the shop but with the continued military presence in front of the building it was no surprise that there wasn’t a customer in sight. I made myself busy but couldn’t help feeling a little disheartened. The confiscation of the building wasn’t going to work out well for my business and I had read in the news that Arnold was being held for jumping bail in the United States so I didn’t hold out much hope that he would be back to reclaim his property anytime soon. I thought about the money I had invested and the realization dawned on me that I had made a mistake.
I didn’t dwell on it for too long as I still had my grand opening to finish planning and, as I’d already committed to this retail venture I had to make the best of the situation. I was busy printing off flyers when there was a polite cough and I looked up to see a rather chastened looking Jose stood at the door. “Senor Tim” he began “I am very sorry for my behavior last night”. He paused then said, “I don’t need to see any more papers, you are safe and we will honor your lease until May next year”. He coughed again and left.
I was speechless. To this day I don’t know what was said to him and I really don’t care. All that mattered to me was that I didn’t have to worry about losing my investment to these Government thieves and I could concentrate on building my business. Little did I know that this day was about the best day my tenancy would ever have.
I saw Arnold’s wife a couple of hours later, she looked tired but she lifted her chin when I approached. She said little as I thanked her for whatever it was she had said to Jose. I asked if she could give me any more information about what was going on, here and with her husband but she said there was little to tell other than that their lawyers were going to fight the expropriation of their building and she was confident that her husband would be back soon and all this would be over. She was wrong.
About a month later their lawyer was placed under investigation and his practice virtually destroyed by Government agencies. He was professionally paralyzed and thus unable to defend his clients. Arnold’s wife was then charged with conspiracy and placed under Island arrest. She was to remain at the building to facilitate its transition into Government control, a task which must have been tremendously painful for her. She continued giving Spanish classes on the terrace just outside my shop but I could see the strain was taking its toll.
One day, a few months later, I was told that Arnold had been sentenced to ten years. His wife was subsequently ordered out of the building. The lawyers confiscated all her teaching materials and her laptop in an act of pure spite and she was told that she would soon be imprisoned. As it turned out she wasn’t even charged officially and a couple of years later she left the country.
Unfortunately for me the confiscation of the building and the mismanagement of it thereafter totally killed the vibe of the building. Fewer tourists passed by, and those that did came mostly out of curiosity rather than to actually buy anything. The love that Arnold and his wife had put into the building and the businesses within was not shown by the new guardians and the building began almost immediately to deteriorate.
Later that year there was a massive devaluation then swift recovery of the Venezuelan currency which had the knock on effect that all my suppliers dramatically increased their prices. I couldn’t increase my prices by an equal amount as to do so would make them way too expensive when the exchange rate normalized again. It turned out that even applying a modest increase to my prices put them on a price par with Armani. As you can imagine, I didn’t make many sales.
The shop was a failure and I lost interest in the business, eventually selling the brand to another t-shirt company in the village. I think they produced one run of shirts then killed the brand completely. I took the money I made from the sale and bought some tools. About six months later I started making furniture and HANd SOLO was born.