A Cautionary tale.....

By way of belated introduction, here's my tale of doing the do in Barcelona, some many moons ago. Many of the lessons now gleaned from the experience might serve some peeps here well. I am, and have been a photographer for over 20 years. My American wife (of then) was a cook....who, as probably most cooks are apt to do, dreamt of one day having her own place. So yours truly ponied up the cash and......

It was surprisingly painless. She walked out into the Barcelona night, and the staff busied themselves, whilst I sat at the bar trying to understand what was happening. Searching the back office showed that no book keeping had ever taken place. Worse, it transpired that my sweet pea had a habit of signing cheques and then leaving them in the cheque book to be dated and filled out later. Whilst this forward thinking is to be applauded, the only real applause came from the thief who managed to cash one of these to the tune of over $2,000! Looking back I can see that the sheer responsibility, along with antagonistic US/Spanish relations with the staff and long hours were just too much. She later told me (much, much later!) that being run out of her own bar, once she'd gotten over the ego bit, was probably a life saver.
Well, when we closed, Santi showed me how to make a pizza, and so I cooked for all of us. We sat down to eat, drink and for me to find out what makes a place tick in Spain. A plan. The next day the place was closed for 2 weeks. I redecorated, from top to bottom. No catering just to English speakers anymore. The menu was reduced to just 6 or 7 items (from around 25...all that prep and cooking time), all fast and cheap, infact the prices were dropped on everything. Stopped doing lunches. Staff could choose their own hours from amongst themselves, and were paid bonuses if the months take reached certain targets. In short, cut hours, increased "table" turnover, and encouraged the staff to "sell"...brandy with that cortado?, tapas with that beer?, but all in the nicest possible way. I learned to cook and wait tables, learning "bar" Spanish on the way! I leaned about % food costs, how to play one beer supplier off against another to get that extra free cooler or extra 4 barrels a week. I also learned whose hand to shake, how to deal with heavy boring people, to clear out a bar of 150 drunks at closing time (and make them keep quiet in the street!), and, unfortunately, I learnt how to tell who was carrying a knife!
All this while I was eagerly awaiting my new food/drinks licence (C3, I think they called it). Now this was the best one could get (as during this period, they were cutting back the number of licences), and would immediately bump up the price of the property. Even better, it would be in my name, and I would be able to trasspasso this, along with the restaurant, and finally see some return on my foolish investment. Ahhh...the sweet ideals of youth.
Local government transparency has never been one of Spain's' attributes, and 12 years ago, even less so. Having agreed a date for receiving my little blue and silver licence plaque, along with all the relevant paperwork, things started to go eerily left field. It transpired that various "normatives" hadn't been carried out correctly, in spite of having passed all those rigirous inspections before opening. On recalculation, the ventilation didn't move quite enough m2 of air, the entrance door wasn't quite wide enough, and the wrong type of fire retardant paint was on all the woodwork. The distance behind the bar was 2 cm short on width, the radio needed a volume control device and the list went on and on. Over a coffee one of the inspectors told me that it was all a "political" game, and that someone with "connections" had their eye on this new licence. Soon my ears were buzzing with hear-say. Our beer supply guy seemed to know, the lady in the corner shop, every bar in the neighbourhood, seemed to have wind of something coming over the hill. And all this whilst the bar was going at 200%, totally packed from opening to closing time. But the real reason became apparent after one of my upstairs neighbours popped in, drunk as a, well, very drunken person. He said that this licence was too valuable to be given to a "foreigner", that they hated the smell of pizza, and that a house meeting had taken place where it was decided that my time had come! A few days later, whilst I was away from the premises, a social security inspector appeared and asked all for their details/times worked. One of the staff had left his stuff at home (about 5 mins away) and in spite of offering to go and collect them....the police appeared (with their tape) and the story ended. It should have come to this earlier, as I was being pushed into pressing a denouncement against the local government for harassment, and whilst this worked its way through the slow, slow court system, the bar would have had to remain closed. (Or so my useless lawyer told me later). Either way, I lost.
Ahhhh, but whose this lurking just out of camera shot....tiss my fragrant ( but still very angry and later to be ex) wife! I had heard that she was planning to return to the States (possibly the best place for an American) but thought nothing of it or its possible consequences until I went to the bank to get the huge sums necessary to pay off my now unemployed staff. With all the fun and games over the licencing it had slipped my mind that we still enjoyed a joint account. And she certainly enjoyed it!! In America. And that, truly, was the end.
Those glossy magazines were opening in Hungary.........
A year later I was in Barcelona, and couldn't resist the urge, along with some friends to go visit our old haunt. Sitting up at the bar, I noticed that the door was the same, so was the bar, and the chimney, and the ventilation. And that lovely blue and silver licence plaque winked at me from the wall.. I asked the unknown guy behind the bar did they know what had happened to the previous owner? Apparently he (me) had run a very busy bar, but had tired of it and the last anyone had heard was that he had left Spain for pastures new. Smile!
Well, I shall have him know, that I'm going to be in Valencia on the 19th of this month looking for a villa, and then I shall be moving lock, stock and barrel back to Spain!

Great story, Headless, even though it isn't a particularly happy one. Stirred up a few memories of my own......

Very best of luck with the planned move, let's hope it works out better this time for you.

Gosh Headless. I have heard similar stories although luckily not had problems myself, but it does seem better to keep ones head below the parapit!

Good luckw ith your return, perhaps you ought to denounce them for not being correct and yet getting the license??

They also say hard work wont kill you ...I say, why risk it!!!!!!!

Trouble is I think desite many postings etc etc, there is no substitute for experience and newbies out here are seen coming a mile off. I remember many years ago after coming to Spain I met a couple who became friends. They had a couple of market stalls and were selling lingerie - in those days the stuff here was really dire, you could take home all the weeks shopping in the knickers the Spanish sold!!!!

Anyway, due to success they decided to open a shop - big mistake! Day after day some official or another would go in demanding money for fines or for things like a certain type of exit sign in the toilet when the toilet wasnt for customer use, and all that type of thing. Yet other shops were obviously flouting these 'laws'. My friends gave up in the end and sold stock to shops as the fines became more than the earnings!

I had it myself, in a 4th floor apartment used as an office when 2 guys from the town hall (allegedly) said we needed an opening licence. They could not explain why as we werent front line and only dealt with people abroad, rarely had visitors. They wanted a plan of the place and showing fire escapes and equipment, which we had. So I said I would have to denounce the owners of the building as no fire escapes! That confused them but we still had to pay nearly 1000 euros IN CASH with no receipt for a small certificate which is framed and looking at me as I type!

Ahhh...memories of the beloved "backhander".

 I recall our first health and sanitation inspection consisted of handing an envelope of cash along with the coffee the inspector asked for. though some might claim that this just greases the wheels, for me it was difficult to know whether I was paying off the right chap (or "chappess" in the case of license approval in Barcelona).

 I think, with hindsight, that I wasn't strong enough in pushing my needs and wants, in other words, that I didn't comprehend that the money I was paying entitled me to some sort of benefit, as opposed to just "paying off" someone to look the other way.

Rixxy, I like your attitude to hard work! Bit like exercise really - if you're healthy you don't need it; if you're unhealthy, you shouldn't risk it. Anyone for the beach?

Also loved your reminiscences of Spanish undies - bet you still keep a few pairs for special occasions? (like when you go shopping at IKEA?)

Hmm, Headless, you've started an interesting thread. (At least I think so!)

I remember when we first came to Spain over 10 years ago, to Palma, friends "back home" warning us that by getting into the bar business we would find ourselves caught up in the dangerous Mafia underworld of back-handers, bribes and protection money etc. etc. We never dared try to grease the palms of the local plod, for fear of getting arrested on bribery charges, but fortunately, despite plenty of "raids", we never actually got fined. The only denuncia we received, for excessive noise, we were able to prove categorically that we were out of the country at the time of the allegded incident, and the bar was closed. The bar next door (the real culprit) would have got done, but the ex-con running it was a shrewd cookie - he was completely unlicenced and ilegal, and hence was off the radar - basically, because he nor his establishment didn't exist on paper, the authorities didn't seem to realise he was there!

There was a period when a spate of break-ins and robberies of other local premises was worrying us - until the head honcho of the gypsy family / local drug warlords, who happened to live above us, told me one day not to worry. So I didn't. Because I always did exactly what he said. Basically because I was sh*t scared of him, but also because befriending him, and offering him the odd whisky on the house (which he nearly always politely declined and insisted on paying for instead) seemed like a good idea at the time. My better half always made a fuss of his little son (a miniature version of himself, complete withgold earrings and medallions and mullett) even though she doesn't much care for kids. Interestingly, our place was never broken in to, and we rarely had any "problems" to speak of. Our neighbour even helped us out when the police were getting heavy on us allowing our customers to drink outside in the street. He stood in the doorway, and physically stopped anyone from taking their drinks outside with them. Nobody resisted! And still he refused payment of any kind. I did return the favour, by calling him whenever plod started writing a parking ticket for his car, which was always illegally parked opposite our place. Funnily enough, the police always ripped up the ticket afer a brief exchange, which seemed nothing more than a pleasant enquiry after the health of the officers wife & kids.

You could say it was all an eperience, but (hopefully, anyway) a useless one, because none of it was "experience" that we've put to use since, or are ever likely to. It didn't kill us - did it make us stronger? Who knows?

I am a fan of hard work as I have been doing it since I was 16 and dont know anything els! Oh to be married to a millionaire and while away the days doing sod all!!!

Anyway, thats the dream, but then I wake up.

I might still have a pair of Bridget Joneses around and yes really useful to take shopping in case you need an extra bag!!

I loved your experience, I had a differing but similar one, in Fuengy, we moved to a 5th floor apartment. One of the kids was going out and we trooped out to throw something down to him, forgetting that the patio doors were opne. SO - front door slams shut, we all look at each other bemused until realization that none of us have a key!!! After the usuall accusations, we went to the neighbour to the left to ask if we could get out onto his terrace, then jump across to our balcony.

He was rather bemused and said no as it was dangerous (he was right). He then proceed to show us how to cut a plastic bottle to make a peice to open the door in the same way as you would with a credit card and opened our door. We thanked him and thought it better than to ask him how he did this but made sure we double locked the door all the time!

Then one day a couple of weeks later we were watching the TV in spanish (as you do) and there was our neighbour on a crime programme.

He is the head of police in Fuengirola! From then on we spoke to him, waved and offered him a drink if ever he saw us in a bar!!!

So, can be handy but even if not, it certainly adds to the richness of living in Spain - the dinner party stories are rich!!

Ah, the old plastic bottle trick!

You all know by now that I'm President of our community? And some of you know from another thread a while back that I have a shady past in X-ray equipment sales?

Take one President, and an ex-salesman experienced at not only getting a foot in the door, but also manipulating a piece of x-ray film to get the door open in the first place, and you have a steady stream of slightly embarassed neighbours asking me to show them "that trick" one more time - especially on those windy days when the terrace doors are open......

Just to add to Rixxy's tale - this is from today's Torrevieja news online - please note NOT my translation!!

14 November 2007 - 18:01  
ARRESTED FOR SELLING FALSE ACTIVITY OPENING LICENCES AT ORIHUELA COSTA
They were asked for amounts of money between 4.000 up to 6.000 euros to apply for the Municipal Opening Licence, whilst in fact, the real cost was less than 1.000 euros.

The Guardia Civil of Torrevieja has arrested two Swedish men and a Spanish one as the suspected responsible for swindle and professional infiltration.

The Guardia Civil carried out the so-called “Architect Operation” which has ended up in arresting two people who used to visit those business premises at the Orihuela Costa Leisure Area making building works. One of them two used to introduce himself as an Architect of the Orihuela City Hall, offering his services in order to apply and obtain the Municipal Opening Licence.

During the conversation, they used to assure businessmen to have contacts in the Orihuela City Hall, and in case of applying for the Municipal Opening Licence through them, they could benefit from a provisional licence within four of five days the most, getting the permanent licence in about four months. They used to assure business that in case they would not do it through them, it would mean to come into trouble with the police.

The businessmen were asked amounts of money between 4.000 up to 6.000 euros, whilst the truth is that these paperworks cost no more than 1.000 euros, includying the needed projects for the activity.

Once they had obtained the money, businessmen were given a copy of the paperworks stamped by the register office of the City Hall, so they could start the activity right away.

In fact, the paper the businessmen were given was not valid at all as provisional licence, for a stamped copy can never replace an opening licence.

None of the victims has received the promised municipal activity opening licence so far.

All in all it has been 45 cases for swindle.