Saturday, June 7, 2014

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?

2 comments:

  1. It's people like Mr. and Mrs. Berry that show the world that there are simple solutions to what many see as complicated problems. Using the space between the Coca-Cola bottles is ingenious and I'm so glad that anti-diarrhea kits are now distributed to children that otherwise would literally not survive without them. It is outrageous that we live in a world where $10.00 is nothing to some and life saving to others.

    By the way, my wife Angie has worked for Walmart for the past 16 years. I'll have her spread the word of "About Colalife" to who-ever she can think of.

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