Just
how much strategic thinking needed to be done was not clear. At
first glance, it was an open-and-shut case of the expensive losing
out to the inexpensive. Longenuff Limited's tea brands were priced
a good 20-30 per cent higher than the hundreds of cheaper packed
tea labels available in India. For the even more budget-bound, there
was loose tea-cheaper still-in command of over half the country's
market, placed just above 680 million kg in 2002. Actual Indian
tea production was some 100 million kg more- as estimated with a
5 per cent margin of error-but this was the export challenge, really.
The domestic challenge was the reason that
U. Rekha, tea business head, was seated in Longenuff's conference
room, talking to her strategic advisors. Of the 300 million kg Indian
market for packed tea, the company's share had fallen from 38 per
cent to 33 per cent (that too, in a stagnant market) over three
years. Any further decline, and its brands' aggregate volumes would
slip under the psychological 100 million kg level. This was a crisis
of unprecedented proportions.
"There's nothing self-evident
about the price explanation," said Rekha, with characteristic
firmness, "recession or not." Yes, household budgets are
tight, as research indicates. But every value-for-money equation
has a 'value' side to it, and this is what we must address. We offer
value, and that justifies the premium. How is it that our brand
management processes are failing to fight commoditisation?"
Zubin Sethi, partner at an international consultancy,
nodded gravely. A brand of tea losing marketshare was as serious
as a newspaper losing readers. In the sense that tea is part of
the consumer's wake-up ritual in a peculiarly change-resistant part
of the day. Brand shifts in this zone were rare, slow and very costly.
"The portfolio re-jig should re-focus
our energies, and help us claw back to a share of at least 35 per
cent..." said Sudhakar Reddy, Sethi's consultant colleague,
trailing off. Rekha's attention was now on the new logo for master-brand
Beaver Bridge-designed to signify synergies in nature. Under this
logo, Longenuff once had only two major brands. Andaaz, a unique
blend of strong-flavour and subtle-aroma leaves, positioned as a
'convergence' brand. And Satrang, a blend of multiple-sense invigorating
leaves, portrayed as a sort of 'debate arouser'. Now, Longenuff
had brought in a third brand: Aha, with freshly-picked garden leaves,
to be sold on the freshness platform. "Together," said
Reddy, "we can conduct quite some orchestra in the market,
and it won't be the same old familiar music. The entry of Aha under
the same master franchise would have to manifest itself in all the
three brands. Same flavour, fresh expressions."
Focusing attention on benefits is a step
above inserting words like 'freshness' into some marketing
template. But only a step above.
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"Sure," said Rekha, "the research
indicates nothing amiss with the blends in themselves, but we have
still altered them slightly to distinguish the aromas and sharpen
the sub-brand experiences. The packaging is okay, though minimal
contemporisation could serve us well, especially on new delivery
formats such as tea-bags, aimed at the convenience segment."
"The prices..." went Reddy. "That's
alright, consistent with our tea market strategy. All the realisations
have been minutely calculated to meet our financial objectives.
Rivals may be sacrificing margins for growth, but Longenuff will
not, and that's that. We're in the business of generating price-inelasticity.
This is the variable under discussion."
"That brings us to product benefit reinforcement,"
said Sethi, breaking his silence.
"Yes, benefits, but who said anything
about reinforcement? Focusing attention on benefits is a step above
inserting words like 'freshness' into some marketing template to
be filed in some computer database. But only a step above. I want
involvement. I want dedication. I want passion," announced
Rekha.
"I agree," sighed Sethi, "over-systemisation
turns a company robotic, the surest way to lose touch with those
people out there who get up every morning-their heads full of emotion-for
their tea."
"We have to re-engage this person,"
said Rekha, "and I suspect half-measures won't do. Getting
450 million people in tune with us is a daunting objective, but
all it means is that the stakes are very high. So we may even have
to re-calibrate the risk we're willing to bear. That is, raise adspend
to obsessive levels. But this will only work if we raise ourselves
to a plane that actually gives us genuine creative control of the
brand's destiny."
Sethi, who had spent a career advising businesses
to adopt contrarian risk strategies, sat still for a few seconds,
assimilating what he had just heard from a top Longenuff executive.
Then, tentatively, he asked, just to make sure, "So, are we
talking of a new kind of freedom for the ad agency?"
"Agency, why just the agency?" posed
Rekha, "I am talking about all of us on 'Mission Tea Revival'.
I am talking about thinking independently. That's nobody's special
prerogative."
Sethi shuffled around a little, his eyebrows
narrow, his lips pursed. He was aware that Rekha had grown up on
a tea estate, studied Renaissance art, and was emotional about tea.
But here she was speaking with a new edge, a persuasive sense of
leadership with a distinct now-or-never tone to it. Almost as if
she'd spent an entire lifetime for this moment of clarity.
"It's the way our brands bond with the
consumer," continued Rekha, "Is it a mutually stimulating
relationship? That's the question. I want as much thought devoted
to this-and by the country's top intellectual resources-as we give
to every other function in this business. I want everybody to fan
out and talk, talk, talk-talk to people everywhere, and gather some
real thoughts. Insights. Not some tick-marks in some survey-sheet
boxes. Seek fresh-think, not group-think."
Sethi nodded, thought a while, and then spoke
up. "I am glad you're saying all this, Rekha, but this could
involve a good Rs 35 crore more than the original Rs 90-crore consumer
engagement budget-which is already quite large for a Rs 800 crore
business. Without a proportionate increase in sales, our margins
would suffer a big hit-and as you said, that would mean outright
failure."
"Does that scare you?" asked Rekha.
"That's the wrong word," replied Sethi, "but if after
all this effort the Longenuff system spikes anything that's even
vaguely dramatic, we're both out of jobs, even before any of it
gets played in the market. You know how it is, with the succession
of tests and checks, the system."
"What system? We human beings run this
company. Not algorithms. And what tests? Those are just pointers,
not idea traps. It all comes to my desk at the end, and I make all
the line calls-what's in, what's out."
"Well, then those lines define the 'box'
for these guys. Why waste brains doing anything that doesn't fit
into the box?" posed Sethi.
"Oh I see..." Rekha paused, sounding
mildly hurt, "I think we have a serious preconception problem
here. When I say 'think independently', I mean it. Categorically.
Let's be crystal clear about this. The lines are made by me-and
by a bunch of people like you and me. Not by some lightning flash
from the sky."
The question: Should Longenuff devote disproportionate
resources to Rekha's plan?
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