Page 7 of The Promise of Tomorrow
Derek hesitated. ‘Yes, I believe so.’
The Lipstick Effect reflected how, in times of hardship, consumers spent money on small luxuries, like when sales of lipsticks increased after the 9/11 terrorist attacks. When the pandemic hit, Elena had only recently joined the company, but had tracked its performance for several months whilst she worked her notice at her previous place of employment. She’d pitched the idea of bringing out individual tubes of limited-edition luxury brands of their biscuits at her interview. This concept had already been discussed by the board, previous to Derek taking her on, but her impressive, evidence-based pitch had given them the push they’d needed to run with it. Customers couldn’t get enough of the Dulce de Leche cookies and double chocolate pecan shortbread fingers. They wanted comfort, they wanted an affordable treat. The rise in profits had landed Elena a big bonus in her first year. But Derek was right.Consumer behaviour was changing again, as the financial squeeze continued to tighten.
‘The time has come to backtrack on the luxury angle as a solution, Derek,’ she said. ‘I’d love to wave a magic wand and come up with a completely new approach, but all my research keeps throwing up the same conclusion that’s been discussed on and off. The company can’t delay any longer: a budget-friendly line is theonlyway forwards – with the right product. And if the board are prepared to hear me out, I’ve got one in mind.’
Derek folded his arms. ‘Really? Not this again.’ He sighed. ‘Well, there’s no point getting carried away just yet. Rory? What’s your take on all this?’
Elena held her breath.
‘Every saved penny counts at the moment,’ said Rory, ‘even on a packet of biscuits. Profits are down across the industry – our competitors are in the same position. It’s not just Bingley Biscuits. The Lipstick Effecthaswaned. These figures back that up.’ He took a sheet of paper out of his file and pushed it across the desk. ‘However, for many of the companies that have introduced cheaper lines, sales didn’t start well…’
Elena clenched her hands.
‘…but slowly that’s turning around.’ Rory pushed across another sheet. ‘It might just be the right time for Elena’s approach.’
Eyebrows in her hairline, she stared straight ahead, unable to remember the last time Rory had embraced a pitch of hers from the very beginning.
‘Oh. Right…’ Derek looked up from Rory’s numbers. ‘But you’re both familiar with the board’s stance. They’re worried about devaluing our quality name. That’s the reason this idea of bringing out a basic biscuit range hasn’t ever moved forwards.’ He shook his head. ‘Sorry Elena, but I can’t see them going for it. They’ve discussed it ad nauseam. I was hoping you’d come up with something completely innovative.’
‘Derek. You’re director of marketing. You know, as well as I do, it’s about how you sell it,’ said Elena, firmly. She put her hands on his desk and leant forwards. ‘We tell the public that Bingley Biscuits cares about their struggles, and that we are acting upon them; that affordability is our priority. What’s more, the phrasing we come up with can’t be mere words stuck on the side of a packet, either, or in a light-hearted jingle at the end of a TV advert. The concept has to come from the heart,’ said Elena, laying her palm against her chest. Once she’d decided to leave her last job at a confectionery company that no longer challenged her, Elena had quickly received several offers. But one of her reasons for joining Bingley Biscuits was their reputation for high ethical standards. ‘Consumers aren’t stupid. We’d need to avoid sneaky tactics like a blanket hike in the price of our whole range before bringing out a budget-friendly version that, in effect, is simply the price of what customers were already paying. We’ve seen that time and time again in some of the supermarkets, with other products.’
Derek paced the room, juggling a stress ball between his hands, his questions becoming louder and quicker, Rory pulling out more sheets from his folder, with graphs and numbers, with the stats from marketing surveys, showing how slowly customers were becoming loyal to competitors’ more affordable brands.
Elena’s mouth fell open. Rory really had got behind her.
Thirty minutes later, Derek collapsed into his chair. ‘The stats are all there. Good work, both of you. It’s convincing. Other companiesareturning over a bigger profit with cheap lines. But at what cost to their reputation, in the long run? We don’t want to alienate customers who see one of our biscuits as a superior product.’ He reached forward to a tube on his desk and offered itto the other two, before tugging out a vanilla sandwich finger. The three of them sat eating. ‘Okay. I’ll pitch the idea of a cheaper line to the board again.’
Yes!Elena wanted to punch the air.
‘You have a chat with the team,’ he continued. ‘Get their brains ticking. I’ll schedule a meeting for the whole department on Friday. This pitch will need to be rock solid, and that requires teamwork. In the meantime, there’s no harm in you working on your product idea, Elena. I hope it’s a strong one that will at least spark the board’s confidence in taking this direction, even if product development, ultimately, have to reject it.’
Beaming, Elena reached for Derek’s tube of vanilla sandwich fingers and looked mischievously at him, and he rolled his eyes in an affectionate manner. She got up and closed Derek’s door behind them. A notification flashed on her phone – a text from Gary.
Your meeting’s going on a bit! I’m making coffee for everyone.
‘Thanks for backing my idea,’ she said to Rory and passed him a biscuit.
‘Just backing the stats,’ he said.
Of course.
Marketers were often expected to come up with miracles, something fresh and sexy, but now and again, the answer was about going back to basics; it was about simple policies with no clever, underlying agenda, and right now that meant giving customers a genuine opportunity to save money.
They strode in the direction of Caz’s desk. She and Rory were senior members of the team, underneath Elena.
A crash came from the small staff kitchen followed by a swear word. Elena hurried to see if Gary was all right. A streamof coffee flowed across the floor, out of the kitchen’s door. Unaware, she stepped in it and jerked backwards before slipping, falling, falling, her face lifting to the tiled ceiling. Her phone went flying.
No!
What if she landed smack bang on the back of her head, on the hard floor? Like that soap actor who died in a random accident on an ice rink, because a bleed in his brain was missed. Having lost control of her balance completely, Elena let out a yelp and closed her eyes.
Please, let it be over quickly.
But… wait… What? Strong arms caught Elena and pulled her up.
‘Nothing to see here, folks,’ said Rory as people got up to look. He picked up her phone, took Elena by the hand and led her through the office doors. Hardly able to breathe, she rubbed her back.
‘Reckoned you might want some privacy to, you know, nurse that injured pride and…’
