The flying pizza

This story was originally published on rantrave.com in 2010.

Khalid's dreams ran wild, and in times as grim as ours, he felt he could not afford to lose them – he had no choice but to chase his dreams. That is why Khalid al-Jawahir, who appeared to be an ordinary carpet weaver, married the prettiest girl of Tehran, gave her five sons and then decided to give up his steady income and follow his dream to open the first Domino's Pizza in Iran.

The night Khalid told his wife Yasmin about his decision, she made sure he didn't see her cry her eyes out. She wanted to support her husband, but secretly, she wondered why Khalid didn't feel as strongly about supporting his family. How would she be able to feed their sons if this whole thing failed?
Khalid's father was the first to oppose him. Not because he was worried about his son's financial position but because he didn't want his son to abandon the family tradition: creating magic carpets.
"But father," Khalid said, "don't you realize that nobody wants magic carpets any more? I haven't used our magic since you introduced me to the craft. I've spent all my days, weeks, years weaving ordinary carpets, without a single flying thread to them. I think our market is satisfied."
It was true, their clientèle was a very select group of people, and all who knew about the family's speciality already owned a beautifully crafted al-Jawahir carpet.
That's why Khalid travelled to England to take part in the Domino's Franchise Development Programme. Because the smallest muscles in his fingers had been exercised by years of weaving intricate patterns, he turned out to be marvellous at kneading, rolling and spinning the dough and chopping up toppings. His trainer was impressed with his entrepreneurial skills as well. Everyone was convinced Khalid was the right person to bring the first Domino's to Iran.

Unfortunately, the Supreme Leader disagreed. He decided Tehran had no need for an American fast food joint. Disappointed and embarrassed, Khalid had to return to the carpet weaving workshop. But he couldn't let go of his dream, and every night when he got home from work, he joined Yasmin in the kitchen to exercise his pizza making skills.

Two weeks after he had forbidden Khalid to open a Domino's franchise in Tehran, the Supreme Leader of Iran was in a meeting with the Council of Guardians. The twelve jurists were going on and on about matters that were of incredible importance, but something kept distracting the Supreme Leader: a gnawing feeling in his stomach. He kept shifting in his chair and staring at the setting sun, until one of the Guardians asked him directly what was on his mind.
"If you must know..." His agitated voice frightened all who were present. "I'm hungry."

At that exact moment, Khalid was rolling out a very thin pizza base. He felt an exhilarating breeze brush over his hands. He had only felt something similar once before: when his father showed him how to weave a carpet in order to make it fly. With the greatest care, he spread liquid cheese, mozzarella, tomato sauce, fresh tomato, green pepper, mushrooms, onion and sweetcorn over the pizza base and popped it in the oven. He couldn't shake the tingling feeling and kept watching the oven door as if it were a television, until the pizza was done. The moment he opened the oven, Yasmin entered the kitchen and she witnessed the miracle. The Double Decadence Vegetarian Supreme was floating in the middle of the oven, it's base baked to crusty perfection. It tilted a little bit, as if to nod or show its best side to its maker, and then raced out of the window to deliver itself the hungry Supreme Leader.

The next day, Khalid received a message from the Supreme Leader, thanking him for the delicious meal. The note said: "though I am still opposed against opening American fast food joints in our capital city, I have changed my mind about Domino's Pizza. After yesterday's outstanding performance, I have realised that Domino's is not a fast food joint. You managed to deliver good, freshly prepared food fast. There's a difference."

To the Supreme Leader's delight, Khalid recruited Yasmin, his father and his oldest sons and launched the first Domino's Pizza in Tehran that same month. And whenever the Supreme Leader spoke the magical words I'm hungry, an enchanting breeze would brush over Khalid's fingers. 

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Make your dog work for you

This story was originally published on rantrave.com in 2010.

          "I've found the most reliable business partner in the world," says Millie Harris, one of Surrey's most remarkable entrepreneurs. "When we decided to take a puppy, we would never have guessed that he would double our family savings!" She's talking about her dog Ollie, who is a professional waiter and entertainer.

          We're sitting in her suburban living room with French doors that lead to a spacious garden. Millie sees me look at a large painting of a boy and girl with a big blond dog. "We knew Ollie was good with kids. That was the main reason why we wanted a Golden Retriever. They are always up for a cuddle and eager to learn new tricks."

          "One day, my husband, who is a builder, came home from work and he was absolutely knackered. He sat down, switched on the telly and told me to get him a beer. Ollie immediately followed me to the kitchen. When I opened the fridge, he looked at me with those big eyes, as if he was asking: 'Shall I do it?' I thought it would be a laugh, so I put the can between his jaws and sent him back in."

          "Two weeks later, Ollie demonstrated his trick on my birthday party. Not everybody likes drool on their cans, but the idea of having a dog butler was a major hit. One of my friends asked if I could teach Ollie to pull a trolley on his wedding reception. We taught him some more tricks, and before we knew it, our dog was performing every weekend." Millie lovingly pets the blond Labrador that's sitting next to her. "He's fully booked until August next year. A London-based company even tried to book him for a fundraising dinner in 2014. But we've said no. We can't predict the future. Right, Ollie?"

          When Millie goes to the kitchen to put the kettle on, Ollie follows her immediately. I half expect the dog to come back offering me a soggy biscuit. But he's a professional now, and he doesn't work on weekdays. Millie has to carry the tea tray herself and sits down again on the sofa. "As a builder, my husband knows what it's like to start your own business, so he does all the paperwork. All I did was make sure we chose the best dog insurance in the UK. Of course we already had one to cover the vet's fee. But when your dog is pulling trolleys full of wine glasses, you do want third party liability coverage. Even though we've got a clause in the contract that says that all accidents are the client's responsibility. Fortunately, we haven't had to use our dog insurance yet." Ollie yawns and settles down for a little nap.

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          "As for marketing... word of mouth is working very well for us. We wouldn't even be able to deal with the requests we'd get if we would start a website!"

Born to be fast, loud and on the move

This story was originally published on rantrave.com in 2010 

            Laszlo Zappador was born in a car. Not in a car park, not at the roadside, but in the back seat of a rattling Fiat 126 that was racing at 80 miles per hour from Gyor to Budapest. It was the 19st of May 1989 and Laszlo's mother, who was 17 at the time and single, was hitchhiking to the capital of Hungary when her labour suddenly sped up. It was a kick start that would determine the rest of his life.

            "I think about my mother a lot," says Laszlo, "especially on days like today. I'm turning 21 today and I hope she would have been proud of me. I've got my driving licence, have owned 8 cars in total, have lived in four different countries and I'm still a virgin. I really try to live my life in her honour and make her dreams come true because she didn't have enough time to do so. Don't you think it's sad she never went abroad, not even on a holiday? She hated Hungary, hated it so much... yet she never got to see another country."

            When I ask Laszlo how she died, he picks up a star spanner from the floor and starts polishing off the grease with his t-shirt. For a whole minute, the workshop is quiet except for the sounds of running engines in the back.

            "Nobody knows what really happened," he finally says. "I was six at the time, and all I remember is that one afternoon, she didn't come to pick me up from school. She'd run away from her family when she was expecting me, so at first, I was afraid she was running away from me too. Because she didn't have very honourable jobs in Budapest, she never introduced me to any of her friends either. There was no one I could ring, no one I could go to, so my teacher took me home with him. The next day he found out from the police that she had been ran over by a car with no licence plates. That was the first time I decided to go abroad. I didn't even have a passport; can you imagine what I was up against?"

            He puts the now shiny star spanner in a toolbox and runs his fingers through his greasy hair. "The struggle never ends. Even for an experienced driver like me, it's hard to find cheap car insurance because I'm young and a foreigner. But when I was 14 years old, I had won the national go-kart championship twice and was noticed by a coach. He helped me move to Germany, where I learned to drive on real racing tracks."

            "I was very good. Experts started to compare me to Kimi Raikkonen. But in 2007, I fell ill. Depression, emotional blockage, that sort of thing. I'd never dealt with my mother's disappearance, hadn't even been to her funeral. And all of a sudden, I started dreaming I was driving the car that hit her. I couldn't get in a car anymore without breaking into a sweat. I thought I needed a change of scenery, so I moved to Amsterdam. I joined a community of artists living in a large squat, but soon started to miss cars. Especially the sound of the engine and the wheels on the tarmac. I didn't have my licence yet, so I wasn't allowed to drive outside official tracks but I bought my first car there, anyway. A red Nissan Sunny from 1994."

            "Inspired by the people that surrounded me, I started to see the car as a piece of art. Not a very nice one – she was decrepit and rusty – but she had potential. The first thing I did was replace her wheels with massive, round speakers. I put several microphones in and around the engine, the exhaust, the emergency break and the gearstick. I connected all of these to a switchboard with separate volume control switches and voila: my first sound machine. I performed at several squat parties and sold the Sunny Sound for € 6500, more than six times as much as I paid for it."

            His pale complexion lights up when he shows me the pictures of his first car. "I believe the Dutch lad that bought her still gives the occasional concert. Someone sent me a bootleg recording the other day. Bloody amazing. But Holland was too small for me, and I couldn't get the hang of that silly language. So I spent my money on a ticket and flew to England. I've just managed to sell the Roaring Rover for £60,000 and am now working on a Clamourous Cadillac."