Chapter 33
Newcastle, New South Wales, Australia. 1839
It was a glorious day when, in 1839, Jack Finch was presented with his Ticket of Leave. Every day he took the certificate from its secure hiding place and read the words which he knew by heart.
It is His EXCELLENCY the GOVERNOR's Pleasure to DISPENSE with the
Attendance at Government Work of Jack Finch
who was tried at Kingsbourne Assizes March 28th 1835
Convict for seven years arrived per Ship Persephone
Williams Master, in the Year 1835 and to permit him
to employ himself (off the Stores) in any lawful Occupation within the
District of Newcastle for his own Advantage during good Behaviour;
or until His EXCELLENCY's further Pleasure shall be made known.
Although still a convict, and required to keep his nose clean, Jack was now able to work for himself. During his time as a clerk he had thought all manner of different schemes which would allow him to earn an honest living but, it wasn't until the day that he was given his ticket that he finally decided what he would do.
He wanted to celebrate his first day of relative freedom by walking through the town knowing that he could go wherever any of the free settlers could go. Freedom smelled good. He knew he was going to make a success of his life at the other end of the world. It was as he was walking through a market that the idea suddenly struck him. A woman, trying to buy vegetables, was bickering with the stallholder over his prices. He was assuring the woman that his prices were reasonable.
'If you were to buy twenty pounds of taters,' he continued, 'then perhaps I could offer you a better price.'
'How can I carry twenty pounds of potatoes? I am not a mule. Give me five pounds, and be quick about it. I have much to do this morning.'
Bulk buying, thought Jack. I'll bet it doesn't happen here, yet. The farmer sells only his own produce and he has to stop work for a day to bring his goods to market. What is needed is someone to buy direct from the farmers. What would a farmer charge if he could sell his goods without having to leave his farm? What does the housewife want? She can't buy in bulk because she has nowhere to store perishable goods, but she does want the lowest prices possible, and she'd love it if she didn't have to visit lots of stalls and shops to buy everything on her shopping list. Unfortunately, I have no money to put any of my ideas into practice — but I'll think of something.
When the potato-buying woman had made her purchase and moved on, Jack sidled up to the stallholder. He received a hostile glare. Not surprising, I suppose, thought Jack. It's obvious that I'm a convict — especially as I insist upon still wearing this manacle on my wrist — and it's probably written all over my face that I've only just received my ticket. Jack cleared his throat and tried to think how to start a conversation. 'Good day,' he said as cheerfully as if he had not a care in the world. 'I couldn't help overhearing that woman — the one who was buying potatoes.'
'Oh aye. What business is it of yours?' was the surly response.
'No business at all — and I apologise if you think I'm sticking my nose in where it doesn't belong but . . . I was just wondering if . . . well . . . I had a bit of experience of um . . . shopkeeping back home. I thought maybe I could help you out.'
The man leaned forward over his table, stretched his neck out in an exaggerated fashion, and swept his eyes over the empty stretch of road in front of his stall. 'Help me out,' he laughed. 'Yeah, I'm really busy, aren't I? Rushed off my bleedin feet I am. The only way you could help me is if you went up the road and dragged a few customers here. Go on, scarper.'
'Please. Here me out. I think I could get you more customers.'
The man glowered at Jack. Much as he distrusted anyone who came along uninvited and offered to help him to improve his business, perhaps he'd be a fool not to listen. At least he'd have the pleasure of telling this lunatic to take his stupid suggestions elsewhere. 'More customers, you say. Go on then. Amuse me.'
Jack crossed to the other side of the road and then walked back and inspected the stall. 'Hmmm. I have a problem here. I don't know the price of any of these items. How do I know if the price is right for me?'
'You've got a bleedin tongue in your head, haven't you? You ask me, of course.'
Jack put his hand over mouth, fluttered his eyelids and spoke in a high-pitched voice. 'But I'm too shy to ask. You look such a rough fellow that I'm afraid you might use improper language when you address me.'
'What me! I never bleedin use improper language.'
'Okay,' said Jack, reverting to his normal voice. 'How about if you're already serving a customer? I've either got to wait until you've finished serving her or take my custom elsewhere.' Seeing a glimmer of interest in the stallholder's eye, Jack continued. 'If I could see your prices at a glance, I'd know whether to stay or go elsewhere.'
The man grudgingly agreed. 'So, you reckon I should put prices on everything.'
Encouraged by the response, Jack spoke with more enthusiasm. 'Imagine I'm newly married. I want to get the shopping done as quickly as possible so that I can get home and . . . you know.'
'Yeah. I reckons I know what you means.'
Good grief, thought Jack, he almost cracked his face then. 'If I knew that your prices were lower than anyone else's in the town, I could buy all my veggies from you and save myself lots of time.'
'Hold it right there, mate. You'd do all right, getting your veggies cheap, but what about me? If my prices are lower than anyone else's, I'm going to end up taking less money home than anyone else.'
'No, you're not,' Jack almost shouted. 'You'll be taking home more money than anyone.'
'How do you work that out?'
'Because everyone will buy their veggies from you. You'll sell all you've got.' Jack stopped talking and waited while his words soaked in.
The man scratched his ear. 'This sounds too bleedin simple. What's the catch?'
'No catch.'
'Must be. Here, I've just thought of something. How do folks know my prices are the lowest?'
'Because you have a big sign saying that they are.'
'But how do I know that they are?'
Jack waved his finger in the air as if it were a magic wand. 'Because, my friend, you get your customers to collect that information for you.'
A veil of bafflement descended over the stallholder's face. 'You've lost me, mate.'
Jack, feeling more and more confident, produced his trump card. 'Your sign says, 'Lowest prices in town. If you can buy cheaper anywhere else, I'll refund the difference.' What do you think.'
Jack watched the wheels going round in the man's head. 'So if someone buys from me for fourpence, and they see someone else selling for threepence, they'll want a penny back from me.'
'That's it!' Jack said triumphantly. 'That way you'll always be able to make sure that your prices really are the lowest'
'Hmmm. Must be a catch somewhere. What's in it for you?'
Jack shook his head. 'I'll do your signs for nothing — if you pay for the materials. All I want is a promise that you'll let me help you when you get too busy to work single-handed.'
The man folded his arms and fixed Jack with a stare. 'Rule number one is to think about things before doing anything. Come back in an hour and I'll tell you what I think.'
'Fair enough,' said Jack. 'I'll see you in an hour.'
An hour later, Jack was shaking hands with Ollie Chester, the stallholder who was about to introduce a sales gimmick which wouldn't be used in supermarkets until well over a century later.
A week later, Ollie was employing not only Jack, but another assistant as well.
A month later, Ollie Chester was leaving the running of the stall to Jack while he stayed on his farm trying to increase production. Jack drove a wagon to the farm each morning to load up with produce to take back to town. It seemed a shame to have the wagon only one-quarter loaded, so Jack had a word with some other farmers. Taking a full load to the market each day was not only more a more efficient use of resources, but also more profitable.
A year later, Jack was looking for premises in which to open Australia's first supermarket. In his imagination, it looked almost exactly the same as the one which he used to visit every Saturday morning. Exactly the same, that is, apart from the fact that he'd have to wait a few years for freezers to be invented. And he hadn't managed to work out a way of making manoeuvrable shopping trolleys out of wood. He chuckled at the thought that shopping trolleys would probably still have a mind of their own well into the twenty-first century.