Alex Barberini is in his late 30’s.
Born in Milano – Italy from a stable migh ( middle high ) class family.
After attending and completing the best Italian school; the European School of Varese ( from kindergarten to baccalaureat ), he was very undecided at university between Law and Journalism so he ended up with a degree in Economic Sciences.
Alex has travellers’ blood in his veins and started roaming the globe when he was only a baby. First with his parents, then with friends as a teenager and finally alone as an adult.
During his post – Uni years and still “on the road”, Alex even managed to get an MBA in the States and some other Diplomas.
Since the mid 90’s his ‘temporary’ home has been London, where he has dedicated patient long years to apply and smoothen his skills into the business development / consultancy sector especially focusing on the Hospitality and Real Estate industries.
Alex is also of smart appearance and speaks fluently 5 main European Languages and being a ‘permanent’ single, makes him a very eligible bachelor.
International travels and developing business certainly keep his life very far from being boring.
Until something happened in the winter 2005-2006.
Alex’s past year is what makes me write this story.
Except for few names that have been changed for security reasons, Alex story is entirely factual: believe it or not.

April 2006
Only 3 weeks ago I was dining at ‘Beyond the alley behind the cupboarD’ the most eccentric and unique restaurant in the Balkans and today I don’t know which type of pasta I can afford to buy, a pack of spaghetti at 16p or one of penne at 19p, it’s for dinner. To us Italians pasta is very important and the cheapest branded import you can find in London is £1/pack, it’s one meal at high quality pasta versus 5 meals at cheap quality and at £52/week every penny counts. Yep at Netto, the jobseekers favourite store, but what other choice do I have? So it’s £1 for 5 meals.

April 1986
Sitting with my best friends at the Café’ de Paris in Montecarlo, enjoying the mid afternoon sun while watching the ‘good looking’ world go by. Everyone is good looking in this part of the world.

April 2006
Sitting on a dirty couch in Peckham job centre.
A far cry…a far cry… ‘what happened ?’
Millions of thoughts spin through my head, like strawberries being slashed into a blender for a milkshake.
‘Mr Barberini’ the loud voice suddenly wakes me up, and 30 minutes later I have a new job…for the British Government…I am now an official job seeker on a £52/week salary.
Outside; a miserable weather makes my day. I decide to skip Lidl, strategically located next to the job centre, because Netto’s spaghetti and penne are much cheaper.
Definitely Peckham has nothing in common with Montecarlo. Bellenden Road residents: nothing personal here, I know you’re trying your best but just get out of your street and open your eyes.
Peckham is Peckham and always will be. No matter how hard you try.
Yes today is the 1st of April and that isn’t a joke, the worst 1st of April of my life.

2 weeks and 50 applications later, the 1st appointment ( Managers and Executives don’t like the word interview ) at the Britannia International Hotel for a Sales Manager position. I am not happy at all, in fact Britannia Hotels is famous for the huge Staff and Management turnover, clearly indicating that somewhere along the chain of command is greatly wrong. I restrain from giving more details at this point.
The large metal rack/container full of dirty linens is proudly parked right next to the main entrance just before midday.
A brief query at the concierge desk confirms that’s the custom, every day for 6 days a week the dirty linen sits there sometimes for hours awaiting the delivery truck.
What about the Housekeeper bringing it out once the truck has arrived ?
And the General Manager not ensuring that certain details are well looked after ? Strange this is an Hotel that markets itself as a 4 stars with 3 stars prices !!
Hey don’t blame the Housekeeper, is the General Manager that hasn’t got a clue in this case. Or am I wrong ? He/she is ultimately responsible for everything that happens within the premises. The concierge shows me to the “executive lounge” to the right of the very busy lobby.
A dark and bleak room full of old-style tables and armchairs. Aha, a stack of Daily Telegraph, The Independent and Financial Times are evenly distributed around the lounge. I guess all that paper makes that room “executive”.
20 minutes and half a way through the Financial Times, no-one has shown up for me. Of course a small group of tourist on budget holidays are occupying most of the lounge by now. They also like me must be “executives”. Or they are probably just waiting for their bus to the airport.
At the half hour mark I’ve learnt that Hilton Corp is “ready” to take over Russia, so I decide to consult the concierge once again, no not over Hilton v Russia and he confirms that he has done his job by informing the Sales Director when I arrived and even the General Manager knows at this point that I am “in the house”. That makes me feel very important.
He (the concierge) also offers me a coffee which I politely decline and duly resume my waiting position in the “exec” lounge.
50 minutes is way too long for a wait even by my standards and I decide to bugger off.
The dirty linen rack is still there.
And that’s my brief experience at Britannia Hotel Group.
GREAT !!