Topsy-Turvy Toy Story
Gary Grant doesn't do business the way most people do business.
And he doesn't do the toy business the way most people do toy business.
And he certainly doesn't do interviews the way most people do interviews.
He's not wearing a suit, he's not wearing a jacket, he's not wearing a tie. He's wearing a sweater and he's let his stubble grow to the length that front-row rugby forwards do - just long enough to retain a spikiness designed to be mildly irritating to an opposing prop.
I've just shaken his hand and before you can say "Thunderbirds are go," he's gone - loping up the sweeping stairs four at a time, whisking me through his new 2.7 million cubic foot facility, through his extendable warehouse and his mock-shop, through the open plan office space that services his 31 toy shops. It's over an hour before we sit down and I get to turn on the tape-recorder. Still, on the way round I've learned a lot - he doesn't have a corner office, or even an office with walls, and his cubicle in the open plan office is the same size as everyone else's. He knows everyone's name, he listens hard, and everyone looks him in the eye. But, as we shall see, it's not just in people management and honesty that Gary's faith makes a difference.
Gary and his wife Catherine are the founders and owners of The Entertainer, which from its small beginnings has grown to be the biggest independent retail toy chain in Britain. Indeed, whilst other toy retailers have suffered and disappeared, Gary's business has continued to flourish and expand. And break the rules.
One of the first rules Gary broke was deciding not to open any of his stores on Sundays. These days this is a tough decision in any business. In the toy business, it's madness. In this regard, Gary likens himself to Noah: "Everyone thought Noah was crazy building a boat in the middle of a field. And everyone thought I was crazy not opening on a Sunday." The economics are simple. In the toy business, Sunday is the second most profitable day of the week, even though you're only open 6 hours. On a 'per hour' basis, you make more on a Sunday than on any other day, including Saturday. Families buy toys on Sundays.
The Entertainer closes on Sundays because Gary wants to honour the Sabbath principle, and because he wants his 660 plus staff to have a day off when their families and friends have a day off. In terms of profit, the business makes enough to fuel investment and expansion, but that doesn't mean that it might not have impeded the business' growth. For example, the big malls - Bluewater, the Harlequin Centre, Lakeside - won't grant a retailer a lease unless they guarantee to open 7 days a week. That's because landlords want to take a slice of their tenants' turnover, and a tenant who isn't opening on a Sunday is bound to make less money than a tenant who does. Obvious, isn't it?
However, in Gary Grant's topsy-turvy world, the obvious doesn't always turn out to be quite so self-evident. A while back a toy retailer pulled out of their site in the enormous Bluewater shopping centre. The landlords needed to fill the location quickly, so they were prepared to let The Entertainer rent the site for six months, even though they wouldn't open on Sunday. At the end of that period, Gary's shop took 10% more money than the previous shop, even though they'd opened one day less per week.
"How can that be?" Gary asks, "we're not that much better than the previous company." Despite The Entertainer's focus on staff training and customer service, Gary is absolutely clear about the source of their success. He knows that faithfulness does not necessarily lead to material blessing but still 1 Samuel 2:30 comes to my mind: "Those who honour me, I will honour."
Playing with the Occult?
When Gary became a Christian one of the first things that changed was his product selection. Before 1991, he had stocked a lot of Halloween merchandise. On one remarkable occasion, a woman walked into his shop and asked him: "Do you think you should be encouraging children to play with the occult?" Then, astutely recognising the commercial implications of her challenge, she said, "The Lord will replace your lost turn-over." It reminded me of Naaman's unnamed servant girl who could boldly assert that the prophet in Samaria would heal Naaman of his leprosy. The following May, Gary decided that "Halloween had to go." He took all his old stock, destroyed it so no one else could use it, and took it to the tip.
Gary now sees product selection in terms of the welfare of children: "When a child comes into one of my shops it's like an Aladdin's cave, a sweet shop. If it's there, I've endorsed it and the child trusts me. So if we're stocking something, I want to make sure it isn't poison." So, a while back, the trolls came rumbling back onto the market. Not particularly fiendish, you might say, and I'd agree, but when Gary saw that they were dubbed "creatures of mystical, magical powers of good luck", he knew that God didn't want him to stock them. He took advice here and there, put off the decision, hummed a little, ha-ed a smidgen, but he knew. And so he didn't. It cost him money. And thinking like that would soon cost him more.
When Pottermania began to grip the imaginations of the world's children, it was only a matter of time, and licensing agreements, before the toy manufacturers would catch the wave. Gary saw it coming and wondered what he should do. At the time, he didn't have any strong objections to Rowling's books but, as he recognised, it is one thing to read a story, and quite another to role-play being a witch, cast spells, and concoct potions in a cauldron. He sought the advice of Christian friends, called up LICC, and concluded, "I'll know what to do when I see the toys." And he did. And so did his wife. They decided not to stock them. A decision that provoked much coverage, not only in the industry press, but also in the national and international media.
It was a bold commercial decision, because Gary knew that people would come to his shops with the express intention of buying a Harry Potter toy and, if they didn't find one, they would not be satisfied with a different toy - they'd go to another shop. Gary thought it would cost The Entertainer £500,000. In the end, the number was a lower, but still very substantial, £400,000. And that's just last year. Rowling is set to write three more books, and there may be another six films. Potter merchandise will be on sale for at least a decade. But not in The Entertainer.
Although this was a costly commercial decision, Gary does not see himself as a crusader against Potter toys or Rowling's books. He hasn't started a campaign, he has simply been obedient to what God has "told Gary Grant to do". And his commitment to allow other people to do what they think is right is apparent in the way he respects his people. While I was in his offices, I noticed an employee taking a break reading Rowling's Goblet of Fire. I remarked to Gary that she obviously hadn't been intimidated by the corporate stand. Actually, she had been. In fact, soon after Gary turned down the Potter toys this particular lady stopped reading the Potter books at work. Gary noticed and asked her about it. "Do you mean, she said, "that it's OK to read them here? I thought..." "Course it is," came Gary's reply, "It's your free time."
The Point of Business
A few years ago, Gary bought five large Nativity scenes to display in his shop windows. He thought it was a good idea to try to remind people what Christmas was all about. Interestingly, however, it turned out that the stores with the Nativity scenes performed relatively better because they had "more people looking in the windows, even though they didn't contain any toys."
Two years ago, Gary went further in his attempt to use his business as a platform for the Gospel. He decided to offer customers a premium if they spent ten pounds or more in his store. Not a huge amount at Christmas. The premium was a £1.50 four colour booklet called What's the Point of Christmas?, written by the evangelist J John. Gary had 50,000 printed. They were gone in 8 days.
Last Christmas, Gary commissioned J John and Stewart Henderson to write a booklet more directly aimed at kids: "The Sweet News of Christmas". And this time he had 100,000 printed. Not too many evangelists have distributed 100,000 tracts in the last year. My children were treated to a version of it at a kids club 1000 miles away from Britain. Good news travels far.
Gary has been a Christian for about a decade. Christ has transformed him and, in turn, Gary has let Christ transform every aspect of his business and his life. Gary isn't a big reader of the Bible - he's dyslexic - but he is a big listener to God, and he wants to use all that God has given him for His glory.
Challengingly, Gary has not only sought to be honest in all his dealings as a businessman and as an employer, but he's understood that Christ can affect every aspect of a business - the structures and systems, the products and services you sell - and the extent to which it can be used legitimately as a platform for the Gospel.
This is exhilarating, holistic Christian business.
And it sure ain't kids' stuff.
"Gary has let Christ transform every aspect of his business and his life."
"Gary Grant knows that faithfulness does not necessarily lead to material blessing, but still 1 Samuel 2:30 comes to my mind: 'Those who honour me, I will honour.'"
Mark Greene
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