“You’re nothing if not intuitive, Jonathan. The resorts I came down to tour are beautiful. The properties are pristine and lucrative. They need some updating but are centrally located and family friendly. They’re owned by two brothers who are ready to sell, with the caveat that much of the business remains the same. They want to keep the name along with their employees, vendors, and service providers. I’ve looked at the books and spoken to several of the staff and I’m fine with most of that. The place runs like a well-oiled machine,” Mr. Cunningham explained.
“What’s the catch? And what’s your plan?”
His mentor always had multiple plans in place to secure what he wanted.
“There’s that inquisitive and self-starting mind churning. The catch is Mariott and a family squabble. Marriott is interested and, of course, dangling an offer significantly over asking price. The younger brother is only seeing the dollar signs. The older brother is enticed by the proposition but recognizes the hierarchy at the international chain may be paying the family lip service regarding keeping the name and employees, among other things, to secure the deal. He’s more realistic and understands their quaint, familiar lodges could be transformed into cookie-cutter Courtyards or Fairfield Inns faster than ink dries on the dotted lines of a contract,” Mr. Cunningham continued.
“Between the Marriott’s portfolio and acquisitions that I read about onPRNewswire,I can only imagine what they are offering if they want the properties badly enough. I can’t believe we’re still in the running. Low Country Hospitality would never be able to compete with the Mariott?” J.P. rhetorically asked, though he was largely in the dark, about the revenue that Low Country Hospitality generated annually and how much Mr. Cunningham, himself, was worth.
“Don’t sell us short, Jonathan. We can compete with customer experience and satisfaction. The brothers are big fish in a little pond, and I sense they prefer to remain that way, without having to work. Their grandfather and then father took pride in building this mini empire and, while I do believe the fortune has gone to the heads of the ‘new money’ generation, the brothers want to keep the name alive and prominent in the community. They also want to have the luxury of stopping in the resorts and being recognized when they’re not busy blowing through their bank accounts and inheritance. All that goes out the window if they strike a deal with a major chain.”
“Fair assessment,” J.P. said. “Though I’m still not following how you strike the deal if they’re money hungry.”
“I suggested they come to Sea Pines for a few days. Stay around our properties and observe how we manage and operate. I’ll set up meetings with the brothers and other family-owned chains Low County Hospitality has acquired and they can hear and see firsthand how and why our transactions and transitions succeed. I also advised them to sit with their financial advisors, whowillreassure them they won’t end up in the poorhouse if they accept the offer from Low Country Hospitality,” Mr. Cunningham stated matter-of-factly.
“I’m sure they didn’t take offense to that,” J.P. said sarcastically. “I think you’re the only person on this planet who can get off saying such things to people.”
“Part of business is meeting people at their level, Jonathan. You’ll learn,” Mr. Cunningham responded. “They’re going to make the trip in a few weeks, after they meet with their investment bankers.”
“Of course, they are. What do we need to do to prepare so that the team seals the deal with these yahoos? Secure tee times, reservations at the spa, replenish the wine cellar and cigar room. What else? I can outsource one or two people from the clubhouse to help plan and execute an itinerary.”
“First, let’s do one of those impromptu Employee Appreciation Weekends. Get the staff reenergized after the busy, albeit successful summer. I looked at the clubhouse and hospitality reservations’ calendars and we have a slow weekend ahead. On Saturday, I’ll host an open house at Marlin Manor for cocktails and a seafood boil. Why don’t you call Hudson’s to see if they can cater lunch and dinner, that way employees can come around their shifts. On Sunday, all meals at the clubhouse for employees and their families will be comped. Any available tee times over the weekend will be offered to employees on a first come, first served basis. Let’s allow them to use that simulator, too. If our remote employees can make the trip, they can charge airfare to their respective managers’ corporate cards, and they can stay at the new ten-sleeper units at Pelican Pointe. Sound good?”
“That sounds more than good. I’ll call over to Hudson’s now. They should be pulling in grouper and seabass this week. Anything else?”
“I don’t think so. Just leave my house the way you and Cliff found it when you move out tonight. Did I tell you I’ll be home tonight? And don’t encourage those youngins’ who can’t hold their alcohol to get too out of control this weekend.”
“Yes, sir. Copy all that,” J.P. obliged.
“And what about those kayaks? Did you test them? Should I buy more and stock the properties?” Mr. Cunningham asked.
“We did a ‘dry’ run this weekend and kayaks are great. We had a blast!” J.P. laughed at his own joke. “But they’re too much of a liability to offer guests. Kenny almost dropped the paddle in the water when we thought we saw a shark. Then we both nearly capsized when a giant wave came out of nowhere and almost took us out. We averted catastrophe twice,” J.P. enthusiastically recounted.
“Guess you had to be there,” Mr. Cunningham responded, clearly not as amused as J.P. about what happened on the water. “Who’s Kenny? The new caddie you hired down at the clubhouse?”
“Oh no, ugh.” J.P. bit his tongue, wishing he hadn’t mentioned her name. “Kenny is one of the renters staying at Pelican Pointe. I thought maybe she could offer a guest perspective about the kayaks. She travels often for work so has a lot of experience with hotel amenities.”
“Jonathan, please tell me you’re kidding,” Mr. Cunningham chided from the other end of the phone.
J.P. didn’t know what to read into the comment or how to interpret the tone. Until now, he didn’t think through the ramifications if something were to go terribly wrong when he took a guest onto the water under the guise of a company sponsored activity. He was playing with fire.
“Let me get this straight. You had free reign of my beautiful home with amenities that are on par with a five-star hotel, you are the controller of one of the most prestigious golf courses on the eastern seaboard and you choose to woo the only woman you’ve shown an ounce of interest in since you retired to this island by throwing her atop a plastic boat and pushing her out to sea?” Mr. Cunningham questioned.
“Let me setyoustraight, Mr. C. I’m not trying to ‘woo’ anyone,” J.P. replied attempting to convince himself and his boss this was true. “Don’t get me wrong, Kenny is a great girl, and I enjoy her company. But her life is in New York, and she’ll be going back there soon. She’s also married to her career and her work assignments take her to prisons and courtrooms, not Pelican Pointe or Calibogue Sound.”
“Let me think. Where have I heard that one before?” Mr. Cunningham asked in a way that J.P. could visualize the older gentleman sitting back in his chair, right leg folded over his left knee, with his thumb under his chin and tapping his temple with his index finger.
“Heard what before?” J.P. sheepishly responded to the question with a question.
“The tried and true ‘focused on your career’ story. The same one that you tell me when I point out an attractive woman at the clubhouse or suggest you find female companionship? Personally, Jonathan, I think all that gibberish is code that smart people, like yourself and this Kenny girl, use when you’re afraid of letting your guard down and getting hurt. But what do I know? I’m just an old man who fell in love with his soulmate at the Washington Square Park playground when he was nine years old,” Mr. Cunningham said like he was delivering a sermon.
“I wish I was around for this prehistoric era you speak of,” J.P. defended, “but thingsaredifferent these days. Even if they weren’t, it would be completely impractical to try and make things work with a woman who lives seven states away.”
“Love isn’t practical. Business is practical, law is practical, finances are practical. You can agree or disagree.”
“Point taken, Mr. C.”
“You know what else is practical? Eating dinner. Why don’t you take her to Charlie’s for a nice meal? Practical people eat dinner seven nights a week.”
