LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

hung out with him after he'd finished for the evening, having late-night conversations that went on into the early hours of the morning. He also worked long, hard hours and I felt sure he'd enjoy the kind of financial freedom I was striving for. So I told him about the networking group and asked if he'd lend me the £3,500 as an investment, telling him that he would also benefit from the skills and contacts I picked up. He was extremely sceptical; he was convinced it was a scam and he tried to talk me out of it. He said all the usual negative stuff about when something seems too good to be true, it usually is, and how property was not the safe investment people thought it was, that there were huge risks associated with property investment. Eventually, I persuaded him to sponsor me to go on a one-day course that this group held that cost £350. He was more comfortable with this amount.

      It was an interesting psychological experiment for me. Of course I could afford the £350 myself, but by having my uncle sponsor me, I made myself accountable to him, too, and that somehow inspired me to work even harder to make the money back. I was more motivated to show him a return on his investment than I would have been if it had been my money invested. I was more determined than ever to make it all work. I also had no income stream at that point in time, only the money I'd made on my first property deal, so I felt somewhat vulnerable and wherever I could offset an expense by getting someone else to make the investment in me, I'd jump at the chance.

      That one-day course really turned my head. I was surrounded by people talking about property deals, people who were regularly making big profits from doing deals on properties and who were living the life I wanted to live. The more I listened, the more it reaffirmed my commitment. I was soon convinced that I should invest some of my own money.

      I joined the group and had a very interesting first year. I partnered up with people – some to a good end, some not. One particular guy screwed me out of a lot of money. He gave me a retainer of £2,000 a month to source deals, but when we made particularly big profits he didn't give me my fair share. It wasn't a nice experience, but I learnt to be choosier about who to go into business with and who to trust.

      Uncle Chi was impressed with my success, and when I showed him the figures of some of the deals I'd made, he decided he wanted me to help him invest in property too. It was my chance to repay him for sponsoring me through that initial one-day course. I did a joint venture with him; I found a property in Manchester that was valued at £125,000. We offered £92,000, then borrowed £108,000 against it. Once we'd paid off our loan and costs, we had over £14,000 in our pockets. My uncle got half of that, plus revenue from the monthly rental on the property. I did all the work, but he deserved to share in my success as he was the first person to invest in me, to take a chance on me. He tells me it's the best £350 he ever spent! There's a little jealousy these days from family members who didn't invest in me at the beginning. I've always said if you're not there with me at the start, don't expect to be there with me at the end!

      As I got deeper and deeper into the business of property investment, I started to join online forums and other networking groups. I knew I eventually wanted to have my own group and mentor people myself.

      One day I came across a group of people criticizing a property investor who had suggested buying properties using lease options. The forum's general opinion was that lease options couldn't be applied to domestic property deals, but this guy was vehemently arguing that lease options were the way forward. He'd made several successful deals using lease options and got them legalized in the UK for the first time. I could see the sense in what he was saying and was eager to learn more, so I contacted him. Little did I know then that that moment marked the beginning of a long and fascinating journey of business and friendship with a certain Mr. Vincent Wong.

* * *

      Vince: My first thought when John contacted me was, “There isn't room in this industry for two Chinamen!” But on this point, I'm happy to say I have been proved wrong. We're living proof of the notion that two heads are better than one, that 1 plus 1 equals 11. We work so closely and fiercely together that there are times when I almost forget John isn't my biological brother. This feeling tends to occur both at the best of times and the worst of times! When we disagree with each other, we're more like brothers than business partners. But we also support each other unconditionally. He's Uncle John to my kids; he's family. I guess it's the similarities in our backgrounds that contribute to our strong bond; and it's this, along with our shared experiences through the trials and tribulations of building an ever-evolving business, that keeps us going and will sustain our relationship for a long time into the future.

      I was born in Liverpool in 1967. My parents, like John's, had emigrated from Hong Kong. Again, like many Chinese immigrants, they decided their best opportunity lay in the restaurant business, so they opened a place in Liverpool. They were very young when they arrived (only 21) and hadn't been married long. My elder sister had been born in Hong Kong shortly before they left and they soon had another child (me) on the way. They had very little business experience and were isolated from their families, so they had hardly any support. It was all much harder than they'd expected. They kept going for a few years, but the arrival of a new baby only exacerbated their struggle. In the end, life got so tough that they closed their restaurant and returned to Hong Kong. I was only a few months old. A couple of years later my younger sister was born.

      Something about the fact that I was the only child who had been born in the UK, added to the fact that I was the only boy, made everyone treat me very differently from my sisters. I was spoilt, there's no doubt about that. I was put on a pedestal and worshipped, and no one was more obsessed with me than my mother. She was convinced I was special, that I was going to achieve great things. In Chinese society, favouritism towards the boy is tolerated; it's more or less expected. I was made to believe I was better than the girls and I felt that people had expectations of me. I was a very cute kid and was constantly told so. Looking back, I'm sure it had quite a negative effect on me. I feel embarrassed when I remember how precocious and arrogant I was at such a young age.

      One day my mother saw an advert in the local paper for an open-call audition for child actors. TVB, Asia's biggest TV network, was recruiting young actors and presenters for its children's channel. My mother took my three-year-old sister and me along and we were both offered contracts.

      My sister got a few acting roles and received a moderate amount of fame from them, but I was the one who, at the age of seven, took off as the big TV star. I became one of the biggest child actors of the time. I was involved in a whole array of programmes, even presenting some of them; I presented a live show every week. I was very famous within Hong Kong's relatively small community; I used to get spotted everywhere we went and would be followed by adoring fans.

      My mother was immensely proud of me. She doted on me. I had far more money spent on me than was spent on my sisters. I got the best clothes, the latest gadgets and all the finest products. I was like a little child doll to her. It must have been hard for my sisters to watch because they were never given as much as I was. But it wasn't as great as it looked from the outside. Yes, I had a lot of fun and possessed many material things, but I craved a normal life at the same time. I was out on the road for long periods of time and sometimes worked long hours. There wasn't a huge amount of playtime. When I did have free time I had far too much money to burn, and by the time I was 12 years old I was a little monster, roaming the streets without supervision and spending money on whatever I wanted for myself and for my friends. For some reason that I cannot even fathom now, we still felt the need to go shoplifting, for kicks. We were terrible; we were like a Hong Kong Brat Pack. I also hung out with many adult friends from work who probably weren't the best influences on me. I remember being involved in some bad crowds. But my mother loved my fame. I was paraded around like a performing monkey, as if she saw my fame as some sort of status symbol. She certainly enjoyed the money I earned. While I'm sure a great deal of it was spent on me, in those days there were not the laws protecting the earnings of child actors that there are today, so I have no idea of exactly how much I earned or where it went.

      There is one memory of this time, though, that makes me cringe more than any of the others…my hairstyle. I still can't believe what my mother did to my hair.

      Most Chinese boys have the typical straight, jet-black hair. My mother, perhaps wanting me to stand out even further, decided I would have curly hair, so she took me to the hairdressers for a perm. I got a perm

Скачать книгу