The man stood looking around the pottery gallery. He had found it more or less by accident, tucked away and off the main road, with only the smallest sign to say it was there.
He was admiring the quality of the work. The shelves and tables displayed beautifully crafted jugs and bowls; each piece had a unique and distinctive decoration. He could see the craftsmanship that had gone into the soft and elegant designs, with their swirling patterns of colour.
But what struck him most was the fact that there were barely twenty pieces on display! There was obviously room for a lot more. He started to think about what could be done with a business of this sort, and with such a high quality product. He eyed the man standing behind the counter flipping through a magazine. He had given no indication that he was even aware that he had a customer.
The visitor circled around a couple more times before deciding on a vase. He was sure his wife would like it. Apart from it being a real work of art, it was just the right shade of blue for the hall table. He approached the counter.
The owner looked up and smiled. “That one? I’ll wrap it for you.”
The man stood looking around the gallery while the owner found sheets of paper.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how long would it take you to make these?”
The other said, “No not at all, I suppose I spend two or three hours each evening.”
The visitor was amazed. “Really? So, you would produce two or three pieces in that time?”
“Well, mostly yes. Although it could be more on a good night; and it does depend a lot on what sort of items I’m working on.”
“I must say I’m impressed with the quality of the pieces you have on display here; quite beautiful.”
“Thanks.” The man carried on wrapping.
The buyer cleared his throat. “Look”, he began, “I’m a Business Analyst. I work in the city. I see enormous potential here. I mean, if you only spend a couple of hours a day making these pieces, what do you do with the rest of your time?”
The owner smiled and looked a little embarrassed. “Well, to be honest with you, I do like to sleep late.” He shrugged his shoulders and leaned forward on the counter contemplating the question. “Ï suppose, most of my mornings are taken up with walking. I often take long morning walks.” He scratched his head and looked past the visitor. He raised a finger. “Ï have a vegetable garden out the back and I get a kick out of pottering around out there.” He straightened up and ran his hands through his hair. “And I must admit… every chance I get I tend to spend time sitting, listening to classical music with a glass of wine.” He chuckled, and a broad smile lit up his face.
The other fanned his hands in a gesture of starting some sort of presentation.
“Look. Like I said, I’m a Business Analyst. I work in the city. Just consider for a moment. Why not put in more hours during the day? If you worked for eight hours a day, six days a week, you could produce five times the quantity of product. Then, with the additional sales you could advertise. You could take on staff to take on some of the work load. As I say, I’m a Business Analyst. I could write a Business Plan for you.”
He looked around the shop. “Why, in less than a decade you could have such a successful business that you could sell it off.”
“Hang on. If I did all that, what would I do with myself?”
“Well, that’s it you see. You could retire to a quiet spot in the country somewhere, take your early morning walks, grow vegetables, and sip wine while listening to classical music whenever you wanted.”
The owner raised his eyebrows.
The Business Analyst from the city paused. He reflected for a moment. His face coloured. He smiled awkwardly and said “Yes, well, I’ll just take the blue vase, thanks.”