Attention, Wal-Mart!

Let me tell you a story, a very familiar story. You are awakened at 3 in the morning by your three-year old, who announces, as best he can, that he has diarrhea. You sigh, get up, go to the bathroom, and yes—there it is. You wash the child, put him to bed, and wait for the inevitable. Sure enough, two days later, again at 3 AM, you’re at your local hospital. You wonder how much, if any, sleep you can get before you drag off to work….

Let me tell you a story, a very familiar story. You are awakened at 3 in the morning by your three-year old, who announces, as best he can, that he has diarrhea. You sigh, get up, go to the bathroom, and yes—there it is. You wash the child, put him to bed, and wait for the inevitable. Sure enough, two days later, again at 3 AM, you’re at your local clinic in a small town in rural Zambia, where there are no medicines. Your gut wrenches: your child may very well die. You trudge home, passing as you go small shops, all of which have Coca-Cola for sale.

There are people who have the word “why” wrapped tightly around every strand of their DNA, and my guess is that Simon and Jane Berry—two retired people who had a little to go off and save humanity—are two such people. And their question, as you can guess, is “why can a town have Coca-Cola but not have medicines? If the Coca-Cola can get there, why can’t a simple, cheap diarrhea kit that could save a kid’s life get there? Why do one in five kids in parts of Africa die of diarrhea before they reach the age of five?”

The nice thing about the why people is that they keep on asking questions, frequently driving everybody else who is just trying through the day, dammit, nuts. So Mr. and Mrs. Berry—they’re British, so no “Simon” or “Jane” here—asked, “why don’t we use the extra space in the crates of Coke to get the diarrhea kits up to the stores that sell the Coca-Cola? 

Presto, mágico! (And I’m sure it wasn’t that easy….)

Tremendous idea, right? The Berrys had designed the kit to fit between the bottles of Coca-Cola. And the kit—which contains basic salts, soap, and a towel—is relatively cheap; as I recall, it costs about a dollar to produce the kit, and it’s a nice little moneymaker for the shopkeeper, with a good margin.

Unbelievably, the Berrys succeeded in getting the attention of Coca-Cola, and they met with them and learned about their distribution chain. That frequently looks like this:

Well, the whole thing seemed like a great idea, when I was pondering the problem of what to write about last July, and also wondering what to do about my brother John and his wife Jeanne, who have:

1.     everything

2.     birthdays in early July

So it seemed like a good idea—why not donate 10 dollars every month? What’s ten bucks to me? So I called John and Jeanne up on vacation and told them about it, and then I forgot that I / they were making the donation. (Just as an aside, isn’t it criminal that we are living in a world where ten dollars is nothing for some, and everything for others?)

Well, among the people for whom the ten dollars is nothing are Bill and Melinda Gates—I’m presuming no introductions needed—who, so says the email the Berrys sent me, agreed to screen a documentary of the project in Seattle last month. Nice!

In fact, I also have a fair amount of “why” bred in the marrow of my bones, and I spent seven years at a company even bigger than Coca-Cola making everybody completely crazy. And when Wal-Mart could bear it no more, they showed me the door; there are, however no hard feelings.

So here are my questions, presented in good business English as a bulleted list:

·     Why doesn’t Wal-Mart partner with ColaLife (the Berrys’ organization)?

·     Why not sell the kit in Wal-Mart (the cost of Pedialyte at Walgreens—sorry, but it’s closer—is six bucks, so what a Volume Producing Item! Wow—better than those Moon Pies!)?

·     Why not donate one dollar for every kit sold to Colalife, thus letting the developed world help the undeveloped world?

There’s something about the Internet that makes people go nuts, and a good example I draw from the comments section of the “About ColaLife” page:

The third world government should tax coca cola and other multi nation corporations at proper rates according to their level of profits. This tax then should be use to supply medicine and infrastructure for the maufacture and distribution of medicines,

These half ass aid program does very little to truly alleviate underdevelopment or promote progress. These programs only continue the dependency and underdevelopment of Africa.

Tax coca cola and other multinational like they do in the west and use the money for medicines and infrastructure.

Ouch—as much for the grammatical errors and typos, as for the content. Fortunately, Mr. Berry is a more temperate soul, and does a neat job of first agreeing with him, and then—gently—demolishing him.

In fact, I think the Berrys’ ideas are a breakthrough on several levels—not the least of which is to combine the private sector with public health.

Now then, Wal-Mart, you guys in?

With Love from Mother Russia

OK, guys—time to exercise that dialing finger.

On June 30 of this year, Russian president Vladimir Putin signed into law a bill prohibiting the distribution of “propaganda of nontraditional sexual orientation.” What does that mean?

Welcome to Russia, where laws are made vague for a reason—to allow for selective enforcement and blackmail. But if that weren’t enough, there’s something else going down in Mother Russia.

Gay people are getting the shit beaten out of them.

Or perhaps a video may be more persuasive. But be warned—from the first seconds this clip is scary.

OK—disgusting and awful. But that’s in Russia, why should I get involved?

Well, a whole bunch of companies are sponsoring the Winter Olympics in Sochi, Russia, and guess what? The largest of these companies have departments that do nothing but burnish the company’s reputation. So that means that people get paid to read newspapers and keep abreast of what’s going on in the world. Which means that these companies have known about the draconian Russian laws and they have made a simple, though brutal decision: fuck gay people, let’s make money.

And what are the largest corporate sponsors? Here they are, with contact numbers provided:

P&G Contact Number:

Monday-Friday, 9 am - 4 pm ET:

(800) 742-6253, or (513) 983-3034 (outside the U.S. and Canada)

24 hours a day:

(800) 764-7483

Coca-Cola Contact Number:

1.800.GET.COKE

(800.438.2653)

Panasonic Contact Number:

1-800-211-PANA (7262)

Hours:

Mon-Fri 9:00 AM - 9:00 PM EST

Sat-Sun 10:00 AM - 7:00 PM EST

Samsung Contact Number:

1 (800) 726-7864

VISA Contact Number:

1-800-522-VISA

Here are Coca-Cola’s main products: Coke, Sprite, Minutemaid products, Bacardi mixers, Dasani water and Evian water. For the company’s website page of complete products, click here.

P&G? Wow, it’s almost easier to list what’s not their product. But here goes: Oral B, Crest, Gillette, Nice ‘n Easy, Clairol, Mach 3, Olay, Scope, Vidal Sassoon, Tampax, Joy, Pampers, Swiffer, Downy, Comet, Tide, Mr. Clean, Bounty, Febreze, Metamucil, Pepto-Bismal, Bounce, Vicks, Charmin, and Cheer.  For the company’s website page of complete products, click here.

Samsung is easy—all of their products are branded Samsung, including the Galaxy.

Panasonic, besides electronics, sells personal care products like shavers and blood pressure monitors.

And Visa? Well, maybe it’s time to switch to MasterCard.

Get dialing, guys…. 

Right—Got That Taken Care Of....

It’s such a good idea, why didn’t I think about it?

I spent seven years working for Wal-Mart, ostensibly as an English teacher. A good part of that time, in fact, I was busy dreaming up great ideas that absolutely no one liked. The sustainable shopping bag that we were pushing all the customers to use was a great idea, but there’s one little problem: you have to remember to take them with you every time you go shopping. And what if you decide on the spur of the moment to drop into a store? Your bags are at home.

Enter the Newhouse KeyChainShoppingBag!

OK—the problem of keeping meats separate from vegetables and fruits? Easy—redesign the shopping cart!

So I’m totally impressed with two like-minded people, Simon and Jane Berry, who looked around them one day in Northeast Zambia, and realized: Coca-Cola was everywhere.

The Berry’s also put together that fact with another two. First, one in five children in developing countries will die of dehydration before their fifth birthday. Second, though a simple solution of salts and sugar will cure the diarrhea, most public health clinics are too far away, or may not have the formula.

Right—so we can get Coca-Cola to kids, but not life-saving kits?

Then they looked at the Coca-Cola crates and realized—hey, there’s a lot of space wasted there. What if we made a kit of a bar of soap (prevention, as well as cure), the oral salts and sugar formula, zinc pills, and put it all in a container that would wedge in between the necks of the Coca-Cola bottles? So the Berrys created an organization, ColaLife, which produced a product called Kit Yamoyo. Here’s what it looked like:

That way, you could simply piggyback on to Coca-Cola’s distribution system, and not have to invest all that energy on reinventing the wheel.

So Berry went running around—trying to get Coca-Cola’s attention, which proved at first difficult. Finally, he got an interview with the BBC, and the door cracked open. They met to discuss Berry’s great idea.

And like all great ideas, it had to be tweaked. The peak period for diarrhea is in rainy season, which is when Coke sells the least. As well, there may be times when Coca-Cola may prefer not to distribute to a remote location—it simply isn’t worth it. But the kids still need the medicine.

So, in the end, they decided not to distribute through Coca-Cola, but rather to use the company to learn about Coca-Cola’s distribution chain. Consider this photo:

For Coca-Cola to get its products into a small shop in a tiny town in a remote area, they have to work with a lot of people, from the local producer to the regional suppliers to smaller supplier to individuals who have a horse and cart. And many times, the break in the chain was the guy with a horse and cart; therefore, Coca-Cola started their Last Mile program. (Nice name, guys!)

So the Berrys worked with Coca-Cola, often tagging along with them and meeting the people who delivered the Coke. And they soon discovered—it would be better if the shopkeepers simply ordered the Kit Yamoyo as a regular item, like laundry detergent.

The ColaLife began its pilot project in September 2012, and so far, the results are encouraging. Here’s what Berry has to say, as quoted in The New York Times:

Thus far, ColaLife has received mostly positive feedback from customers regarding Kit Yamoyo. “People are convinced it cures diarrhea,” said Simon Berry. “They say it’s much stronger than the medicine you get at the health center. And there’s some evidence that we’re stopping chronic diarrhea.” (While conclusive data has not yet been published, Berry’s assessment is based on more than 20, 000 kits sold and surveys of more than 1000 households.) The team also found that shops that sell Kit Yamoyo are, on average, two-thirds closer than health centers — making it much easier for a mother to obtain O.R.S. (oral rehydrating salts) when a child is sick.

There’s a little problem, for which, of course, I have the answer. And that is, you say?

The kit costs one dollar, unaffordable to many people. Sales have slumped by 60 percent from when the kit was introduced free.

My answer?

I think the genius of the Berrys was to see that the Kit Yamoyo was a product and could be treated like one, not a medicine or a health care issue. So we have a product, a nice product with a terrific potential and an un-mined gold field in public relations. A nice product that Wal-Mart (ASDA in Britain) can sell for $2.49—a steal. Wal-Mart pockets 74 cents, pays ColaLife $1.75. ColaLife, in turn, can use that money to lower their price substantially. They then employ an unemployed blogger in Puerto Rico to write terrific press releases, which I will.

Yes?

Sorry, guys—gotta go. Gonna call some friends at Wal-Mart….

Will We?

Well, there’s great news this morning, something to lift the spirits of even the churliest (knew that wasn’t gonna fly) of spirits.

Coca-Cola has joined the fight against obesity!

Yup, they’re getting right into the fight, the brawl, the tumult. Here they are, their gloves taken off and their fists swinging!

"…beating obesity will take action by all of us, based on one simple, common-sense fact: all calories count, no matter where they come from. And if you eat and drink more calories than you burn off, you'll gain weight."

Well, that’s reasonable, isn’t it? And they point out that of their 650 beverages, 180 have no calories. You can always drink that water.

"We've never been more committed to doing our part to help address the issue of obesity," Coca-Cola spokesman Ben Scheidler said in an e-mail, adding that "2013 is going to be a landmark year in terms of expanding partnerships and efforts to educate consumers about energy balance."

Whew. Well, it’s good to know that we’re all on the same page, all moving unitedly (stop it, computer) together, all taking this battle on. Now that Coke is on the team, we can really stamp out that little problem afflicting two out of three Americans…their bellies / thighs / behinds.

Nor is it just Coca-Cola that is exercising corporate responsibility and benevolence—look at the latest effort of our friends in the NRA! Here’s Leslie Horn's lead:

Here is some free PR advice for the National Rifle Association: Now is not the time to release a target practice iOS app—especially one intended for kids. According to the NRA, the app is intended for children as young as age four.

Yup, target practice, and not with just any gun. For an additional buck, you can be practicing with an AK47 or an MK11.

Readers of this blog may not be familiar with these guns. OK—fess up. I didn’t have a glimmer of an idea what these things are. So I looked up what the navy seals had to say.

The US Navy MK11 Mod 0 Sniper Weapon System (SWS) is based on the highly-accurate SR-25 automatic rifle. It was originally conceived and constructed to meet a requirement placed by the Navy SEALs. The MK11 is a highly accurate and durable, precision semiautomatic sniper rifle that operates like an M16 or M4A1, and can deliver a 7.62mm round out to 1,500 yards. Due to its high degree of accuracy, (.5 inch MOA), it is has won acceptance by U.S. Special Operations Forces as one of the finest semiautomatic sniper rifles in the world.

Guys? You’ve designed an app for people who have a very poor sense of what reality and non-reality is. Or maybe I can put it simpler. A kid sees a toy gun. He picks it up. He says, “Bam, you’re dead” to his friend Billy, who promptly falls over dead. Hey, fun!

Second scenario. A kid sees his father’s gun. He picks it up. He says, “Bam, you’re dead” to his friend Billy….

You know the rest of the story. Or maybe you don’t. I’m not a parent, but I do.

So what’s with the NRA? How the hell can they be such morons?

I have a little secret for all you guys out there. Despite all the touting about how business is efficient, how—unlike government—it operates like a well-oiled machine, it doesn’t. Trust me, I know. I worked in the biggest company in the world, and saw insanity on a daily, hourly, almost-minutely basis. So I’m not surprised when Coca-Cola makes its grand gesture—coming out slugging against obesity.

Which yes, can kill. And as senselessly as a gun. So isn’t it inconsistent that I laugh at Coca-Cola yet go crazy on the NRA? Aren’t they both killers?

Is it visual? It’s hard to see a death by diabetes, as opposed to the blood and viscera on the schoolroom wall. And a gunshot wound is more immediate than an elevated blood sugar.

Whatever it is, we’ve got a problem. Every time there’s been a tragedy, we go crazy. We clamor for gun control, we march, we write letters and put flowers on the school door and light candles. Then we go back to our lives.

The NRA knows that. And unlike the sane “us,” the crazy “they” are steadfastly passionate. Their guns are their lives, or a big part of them. All they have to do is wait. We’ll go away, until the next atrocity.

Or will we?