Shop talk

3 mins read

David O'Neill, MD of HK Timbers, on breaking the mould – and his big toe

I heard it crack. Don't ever show an under-12 football team how not to kick a ball on ground that hasn't seen rain for weeks. It's symptomatic of my life as a whole: nothing straightforward. I even managed to be born when nobody expected it. My father was in the navy. When he docked in Kent, my mum went from Burnley for a week's holiday. She came back with a baby. My birth certificate says 'Old Pinkie's Caravan Site, Chatham'. All four brothers were brought up without much money, but with a lot of love. I joined the army at 16. In 1982 the economic climate was bad: Mrs Thatcher was 'realigning' our nation and it was having a significant impact on where I lived. There were a few apprenticeships but they were going to academic youngsters. That wasn't me. I was practical – I built my own bike from bits found in scrapyards. It was bikes then, not sports cars. One of life's sadnesses is that when you're younger, you can't afford Caterhams and when you're older you can't get into 'em. I knew people in our town who had never had a job. I couldn't face that, I was born with a work ethic. I was a bit immature and the army was tough – I didn't see the logic of running out with bits of your kit because someone's blown a trumpet at 2am. Later though, you realise why – it's given us one of the best militaries in the world. It also gave me a good grounding for industry. Faced with bullshit, it taught me to sit back, assess the situation and hold my tongue. The army is brilliant at fostering a team ethic, building mutual respect. I take that on board completely. I can work with anybody and I never leave anyone to struggle with something on their own. I served for five years as an ammunition technician. By then, the economy was improving and I found work as a production operative at Michelin, firstly in Burnley and later in QA in Stoke. In 1990 I joined Airbags, a start-up with only 10 employees. When I left in 1998, there were nearly a thousand. The company supported me through college for my quality and management qualifications. We all had to learn fast during this meteoric growth. Quality management is good for an overall perspective of the business. These days, operations managers have to be prepared to take on a bigger business role, partly because of the cuts and partly because operational and financial know-how must go hand in hand. I've never taken the easy route – either as a cyclist or a manager. My first plant directorship was in a business being squashed for sale by VCs. Not my best move, but I learnt valuable lessons. People shy away from a difficult decision because it affects three or four lives, jeopardising a hundred other jobs. I've worked as an interim manager myself. A lot of British manufacturing has weak management in its middle stages; they carry on living the good life without looking at the cost mechanics. I saw one famous old name die through people holding pens for each other. That's sad. But we can also lift our heads up today and watch our manufacturing taking off. People are fed up of things from China that break and there is real demand for British products and services. At HK, we went through huge changes, mainly with the same team. The difference is that we altered our entire outlook; now we win industry awards for the most improved company. There is no place in manufacturing I'd rather be than here today. Life has never been so exciting. Best reality check? I was whinging about my toe affecting a planned cycle trip when my little boy said: "Dad, remember those people in the Olympics running around with no legs?" I shut up – it's tough to be a hero to your own son! Best advice received? If you don't change what you do, you won't change what you get. Advice to children? Always believe in what you are and strive for what you want to be. Music for the funeral? 'No nay never' (from 'The Wild Rover'), with everyone wearing a football shirt.