Picture of the Week: And look who seems to be hankering for the good old days of the high street

Picture of the Week: And is Emoov’s Russell Quirk missing the good old days, when high streets bustled and people would do this thing called ‘shopping’ in real shops?

We ask because Quirk posted up this rather lovely snapshot of his family business in Grays, Essex, circa 1984 – the year that George Orwell predicted a futuristic totalitarian society although even he notably failed to forecast online agents or the death of Toys R Us.

It was also the year of young Mr Q’s first job, aged 16, and he recalls a smoke-filled office, copious tea making and doing the ‘send-out’ twice a week (ie, stuffing envelopes).

There was also the occasional accompanied viewing on a Saturday if the others were too hung over, and of course a great view of a bus stop.

The cheapest property was £18,000 and he earned £30 a week. What was there not to like?

It has evoked quite a few comments on LinkedIn, where Quirk posted the picture.

For instance, Eric Woodhams started in 1986 on £5,000 a year, while Darrin Carter began in 1985 on the grand sum of £3,750 a year.

Alex Sullivan remembers borrowing an oversized suit for his interview at the age of 19, and Stephen Knock started in 1987 at Prudential Property Services in Rayleigh, Essex, on £27.50 per week plus bus fare.

But getting back to the posting of this picture – do you suppose it is a subliminal sign that Quirk is pining for the high street?

https://www.linkedin.com/in/russell-quirk/detail/recent-activity/shares/

[IMAGE REMOVED]

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2 Comments

  1. ArthurHouse02

    Always said Quirky was more akin to a second hand car salemans. Wonder if Hull’s Motors Limited kept going after he left.

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  2. AgencyInsider

    When I started in Agency my first job in the morning was to sharpen the quill pens, fill the inkwells, shove a lump of coal on the fire (the Senior Partner allowed one lump per day in winter – if there was snow on the ground) and polish the Manager’s shoes. All for tuppence three farthings a week. Aye, thems were the days…

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