Delegating Tasks leads to hiding out in Pub Cellars

I have been a general manager for a good few years now and my biggest influence once told me that the best general managers do nothing. This really caught my attention and I too would like to do nothing. This guy ,lets call him Mr E , used to walk around all day and people would come up to him and tell him this things are done and that thing is will be done and he would nod. He had the place running like clockwork. He was over 700 people working for him and he knew what was going on everywhere because he didn't have his head buried in office or some part of the floor. He was looking around, aware of what was happening and he was indeed doing nothing but running the show at the same time.
A few years later I was in Frankfurt Germany. He was now running the country and I was in his shoes. Doing Nothing . I loved it. I really settled into the role walking around all day having the chats.

Me and my colleague Chris with some German bloggers with hats telling them that we mean business.
When the store opened we started with 850 staff. That's the most people I ever had under me. Recruiting all these people for minimum wage jobs are bound to throw up a few nutters. There was one man called Mohammed that was around 6 foot 5" and a big unit. He would bow passing my office door which I thought it was hilarious. I was showing my friends who came to visit the set up and they picked up on the bow and started calling me "Papa Blanchy". I still get that to this day.
Anyway Mohammed was as nice as pie to me but he used to go down on the shop floor and be all ignorant to women. He also punched a wall when a female manager asked him to do something. Mohammed had to go. He was on a temporary contract anyway and the girls were afraid of him. So this is where my delegation techniques had to be called to action. Myself and Marek my assistant manager knew that this wouldn't end well. Marek knew Mohammed didn't like him and telling Mohammed that his services were not required anymore was likely to end in a very angry beast. We had 7 people in HR but none of them felt comfortable as more stories about this guy started surfacing. I told Marek that I didn't give a shit once the wall puncher was gone by the end of the day. Marek was taking a leaf from my book and delegated tasks himself. Two managers called Bajram and Claudio were given the task to tell Mohammed. I could tell what Marek was thinking . Bajram and Claudio could handle themselves. . Claudio was a small little Argentinian I thought was a pushover until I played against him in midfield and he was the opposite. He ran rings around me and could look after himself. Bajram was from Kosevo. He told me if he can survive a war he can survive anything. Myself and Marek knew this was to happen at 3pm in the training room. We hid out in the office beside mine and waited for the meeting. There was shouting and chairs moving and finally a punch through the wall. Bajram phoned me,
He is looking for Marek.
I turned to Marek
He is after you boy. Haha
We better make ourselves scarce my friend
Marek looked worried. The little Polish fella hated confrontation especially if it was from a 6ft 5" Turkish man who liked punching and was keen to punch Marek.
The probem about our building was that there was only one exit so we made our way down the fire escape and straight into the pub across the road. This was called the "Tranny Bar" and we would always go there for Prinks on a saturday evening. We called it the 'Tranny Bar because we were sitting at the bar one day and we saw a guy going by with a shirt and tie up top and suspenders. We started laughing. He or she got off their bike, came in and sat down beside us and ordered a pint. We got talking to Julia and she said that the bar was a local for transvestites and prostitutes so it was then christened the tranny bar from that day on. A Welsh woman ran the bar and she was fucking mad! She looked like somone that was either going to punch you or hug you. So we were having a pint when at the corner of our eye we saw Mohammed walking out of the store. One of the bloody security guards pointed over at the tranny bar and he started walking towards it. I asked the Welsh woman that that we needed Santuary so she told us to come in behind the bar and hide in the basement where the beer cooler was. So there myself and Marek were in the basement of some dodgy pub getting hunted down by a mad man. Mohammed walked in and asked the Welsh lady if she saw us. She told him that she didn't and off he went. The coast was clear. We went home , got changed and spent the rest of the night in the Tranny bar out of loyalty to Welshy and soon forgot about our unfortunate event. The last photo of us in the tranny bar with one of the locals. Size of her hands!!! Yep weird mannequins in background. It was crazy place, Frankfurt. A great old experience.

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