You take a French entrepreneur “who has seen it all”, a bit of a hard-headed and psycho-flexible, but basically a good guy, who wants to move to Morocco because he’s fallen in love, got married and is going to be a father.
You add a pinch of “everyone makes money with tourism in Marrakesh”.
You bask in the Moroccan sun… and you come up with the following story:
Harry – of course a false name, and any resemblance to anyone who ever existed would be both intentional and normal – Harry, then, entered our world two years ago. We had just arrived in Marrakesh, where we had a group to receive the next day, and we arrived at the usual “transfer” hotel, something very decent, not too expensive, on the edge of town, with nice breakfasts, a MacDo and a supermarket not too far away.
We took our key and then I needed to rush to the nearby supermarket, to buy some shower gel, (you’ll know everything). We also wanted to recover from our Agadir – Tiznit – Agadir – Marrakesh trip by chewing on that monument of Moroccan culture, the Mac Arabia, before a well deserved rest.
Then our Harry arrives, takes our key, and starts to explain to us, in front of everyone, that he was going to review the prices, because he had taken over the hotel, he had the confidence of the owners to put everything back in order after what the previous manager had done (Abdul, you have to follow). “It’s not like it used to be, so you have to understand that I’m asking the customers to make an effort.
I start to get angry, I imagine what the scene would have been like if Harry, who didn’t know us from Eve or Adam, and thought we were normal customers, had made the same exit in front of our group the next day! Samir choked and stammered something that was supposed to indicate that we were bringing in people, and that maybe we should continue to be treated well, and Harry suggested that we discuss the prices over a coffee.
I whispered that we had to go to the supermarket first, and that we could do that in half an hour? And Harry “What do you want to do? It’s not to bring back food? I’ve forbidden us to eat in the rooms, because you understand that people mess up everything.
I won’t go into further detail, but I just wanted you to understand that my first contact with Harry was rough, if not more so.
Apart from the fact that he talked too much, Harry didn’t know how to listen. He liked us, he told us about his misfortunes – Samir too – but he never heard the advice we gave him, the warnings about the risks he was taking.
In short, to make the story a little shorter, Harry had fallen for this hotel, and thought he had the deal of the century. The intermediary explained to him that the previous managers had been disastrous, that the owners were hesitating between selling and taking on another manager, that there was of course no question of giving a discharge to the previous manager, but that the hotel had a lot of potential, besides, with the ten million tourists in 2010 and its ideal location, you’d think, my good man, that you’d be able to make a good living without doing anything.
Harry therefore took over the management of the hotel without a discharge. The trouble started quite quickly. Indeed, two months after his installation, the owners realised that the former managers had not paid them 8 months’ rent, and demanded it from Harry.
The intermediary explained that the owners really needed the money and that if Harry did not pay, they would be forced to sell the hotel. Finally, Harry obtained from one of the two owners, the only one he knew, a discount of two months’ rent out of the eight, and paid the rest, thinking that after all the 10 million tourists would pay him back.
What Harry didn’t know was that the unknown owner, the one who had given a mandate to the intermediary, was none other than… Abdul, the previous manager, and cousin of the other owner.
In the same way, Harry had to pay back construction costs, and soon discovered that the improvements made by the previous managers were not of very good quality, and he had to invest in his hotel if he wanted to keep customers. The windows did not close properly, the noise from the construction site next door (a shopping centre) and the body shop next door could be heard.
The swimming pool had regular filter problems, in short, the boat was leaking.
Harry, sure of his right, decided to act on his environment, and tried to reduce the noise pollution, immediately turning on the body shop. He started a crusade against the cats in his street, and thinking logically, complained to the municipality that his neighbours were putting their rubbish anywhere, which attracted the cats.
You can imagine the cordial atmosphere that reigned between Harry and his Moroccan neighbours.
It was then that the coup de grace was announced. It seems that one evening Harry had made one of his customers a little angry, and he reported him to the CNSS. Of course, Samir, the caretaker, and the four cleaning ladies were working under the table. Harry, without his discharge, was asked by the administration to regularise the situation retroactively. In a great burst of generosity, he was simply asked to draw up legal employment contracts, on the date of hiring, since the employees had been working for the same company for over two years now. So there was no trial period. Now Harry, downcast by these blows of fate, decided to downsize his staff a little, to recover a few dirhams, it was becoming clear that the 10 million tourists would not be enough to save his bacon.
If the labour law is applied with great flexibility towards small local entrepreneurs, who also have the way to put oil in the wheels, the severity towards foreigners, who have decided to come and settle in Morocco, is much greater. Since they have had the choice, they only have to work within the rules.
Harry discovered that he could not dismiss an employee with more than two years’ seniority and an ironclad employment contract in half an hour, especially when the administration was watching him.
A war of nerves began with Samir. And then one day, on a word higher than the other, a little too high (remember, Harry was abrupt, even rough), the clash, and the immediate dismissal, not of Samir, but of one of the cleaning ladies who had interfered in what did not concern her.
Samir decided to organise a strike, with a demonstration outside the hotel. Signs and a Moroccan flag.
Harry, who was rather sanguine, went out to order him to disappear, before he called the police. And then Samir fell to the ground, shouted and rolled in his flag. Harry did not understand, wondered if he was epileptic, if he should call an ambulance instead of the police.
A few days later, Harry was summoned for a complaint lodged by Samir for assault and battery, resulting in a six-week work disability. And of course with all the necessary witnesses (because since the noise and rubbish affair, the other inhabitants of the street did not like Harry very much).
That was it. I don’t know exactly how the story ended. We found a new manager for the hotel today. He’s Moroccan, and he’s hired Samir back (well, hired… I’m not sure if there’s an employment contract, but Samir is there). And it’s quite possible that the new manager is Abdul’s brother or cousin, they look very similar…
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This story is a caricature. Harry, in a way, built his own misfortune, by being imprudent, by not knowing how to manage his staff, nor his good neighbourly relations. It is also an example of what happens to many people who believe that it is “easy” to do business in Morocco, who do not get enough advice (or who get advice from the seller’s notary, but that is another story), who imagine that things are different because they are in Morocco, and that it is common practice to take over a business without a management receipt, who think at the same time that the justice system works exactly as in France, but that they will be able to behave with impunity like abusive Moroccan bosses. And who finally leave, a few years later, having lost a lot.
It’s so simple: why do things differently in Morocco than elsewhere? Take out legal insurance, choose a lawyer or a notary, respect the legislation, and don’t think you’re the kings of oil…
Marrakesh, in particular, with the real estate boom, with the jet-setting, with the numerous requests from foreigners looking for a cheap Eldorado, is a place where everything is possible.
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This article was first published in October 2007, on Casawaves.com . Since then, the hotel has had three more changes of manager, and even a new name. The street has finished being built, and the small body shop has closed. Samir has left, to the north, I think, and as for Harry, nobody knows what happened to him and his wife.
By chance, I met Samir. 15 years later, I learned the end of the story! It is here.
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