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The Objective Leader
How to Leverage the Power of Seeing Things as They Are
By Elizabeth R. Thornton Palgrave Macmillan
Copyright © 2015 Elizabeth R. Thornton
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4668-7944-7
CHAPTER 1
LACK OF OBJECTIVITY COST ME A MILLION DOLLARS
There I was, "Miss American Express." My entire definition of myself was centered on what I did. And I made sure I did it well. It was 1986; I was 28 years old and the director of sales for American Express, responsible for $1.5 billion in revenue, eight states, and six direct reports. American Express had selected me for the Executive MBA program at New York University's Stern School of Business. I was making more money than I knew what to do with. I had a company car and a condo overlooking Manhattan. I even had a personal shopper to maintain my successful image.
Confident, young, cute, and totally naive, I left American Express and moved to the Washington, DC, area to be closer to family. Armed with an MBA and a track record of getting great jobs, I was sure that advancing my career in a new city would be easy enough. But then months went by, and I could not find a job. The unemployment rate in DC at that time was 11 percent, but of course I thought I'd be the exception. I decided to start a sales and marketing consulting company called Bethington Enterprises. I was sure I could attract clients immediately. After all, I had trained at American Express, and I was very good at selling and relationship management.
The clients, however, did not come. So I decided to be proactive. The headlines at the time were all about a former governor of Arkansas who had just been elected president of the United States. I decided to go down to the Presidential Inaugural Committee Headquarters and see what I could do. I walked in the door and said, "Hello, my name is Elizabeth Thornton, I have an MBA, and I would like to help in any way I can."
A Secret Service agent, a very big guy with a gun, said, "Just sit over there and wait with the other volunteers, someone should be coming along shortly ... And whatever you do, don't go beyond those glass doors over there."
I sat down and greeted the other people, but I kept my eye on those glass doors. My mother had always told me that I could do anything I put my mind to. She had never let my siblings, me, or any other young person she came across shy away from something we wanted. So, as soon as the big guy with the gun looked away, I dashed through those forbidden doors. I acted as though I belonged there, greeting people as they walked by. That day I ended up going through another set of glass doors embossed with the words "Presidential Inaugural Committee (PIC) Executive Offices, Co-Chairs Harry Thomason and Ron Brown." I didn't know this at the time, but Harry Thomason was a Hollywood producer who directed and produced hit TV shows like Designing Women and Evening Shade. Ron Brown, who died tragically along with 34 others in a 1996 plane crash in Croatia, was the soon-to-be US Secretary of Commerce.
I introduced myself to a woman named Bobby, who appeared to be working with Harry, and asked if I could help her with anything. She took me into her office and found something for me to do. I can't remember what it was, but Bobby and I hit it off. She introduced me to Harry, and within one week I became the executive assistant to the co-chair of President Clinton's 1993 inauguration. Wanting to make an impact, I used a simple Excel spreadsheet and designed a critical-path system for managing all 30-plus inaugural events. That system was later discussed in an interview on the TV show 48 Hours.
I ended up doing similar work as a volunteer at the White House for the first 100 days of the Clinton administration. I even turned down an offer to work in the West Wing for Alexis Herman, assistant to the president for the Office of Public Liaison. Why, you may ask? Because the salary was only a third of what I had made at American Express, and my responsibilities would have been largely administrative. Go figure.
THE NEXT BIG HEADLINE
Still uncertain about whether I'd done the right thing by turning down a job in the White House, I began working as a marketing consultant for an IT company as I searched for the next big headline. Since I was a little girl, I have always wanted to help people and make a difference in the world. Working in the corporate arena, I felt disconnected from that part of myself. So perhaps unsurprisingly, the headline that caught my attention was Nelson Mandela.
In September 1993, I watched a CBS segment entitled "End of Apartheid." They announced that the United States, Canada, and other nations were lifting most of the remaining sanctions against South Africa and were welcoming it back into the international community. This was part of the process that had begun three years earlier, when President F. W. de Klerk had announced Nelson Mandela's release from prison, thereby signaling the start of the slow dismantling of the apartheid system. Apartheid was established by Afrikaners, an ethnic group of Dutch immigrants that currently represents approximately 7 to 11 percent of the South African population. Although the Afrikaners were the minority ethnic group in the country, the Afrikaner National Party gained control of the government in 1948 and established laws to restrict the ability of other ethnic groups to participate in government. Different races were strictly segregated. Whites had access to much better housing, education, employment, transportation, and medical care. Blacks could not vote and had no representation in government. In 1992 a whites-only referendum had approved the reform process, and on April 27, 1994, the first democratic elections would be held in South Africa, with people of all races able to vote. The Government of National Unity was formed, with Nelson Mandela as president and de Klerk and Thabo Mbeki as deputy presidents.
All eyes were on South Africa. American companies were thinking about expanding their operations there, and some South African companies were exploring the possibility of entering the North American market for the first time since 1964. As an African American woman, this moved me greatly, as it did many people. What happened next was truly exhilarating.
In late 1993, my older brother was among the hundreds of businesspeople heading to South Africa to explore product opportunities. The company he worked for had just transferred him and his family from Chicago to Johannesburg. My brother had always been health conscious; he rarely drank soda, he preferred juice. He had started drinking a South African fruit juice that he thought was delicious. An entrepreneur by nature, he tracked down the company and arranged to meet with its director of international markets. His name was Pieter.
In the meeting my brother told Pieter, "Now that sanctions have been removed, your juice could be really big in North America. I have a sister who owns a marketing consultant company in the United States. Why don't you see what she can do?" Pieter agreed. Apparently, identifying small companies to "test the waters" was the company's process for gaining access to new markets. They had done this in 64 other countries and planned to do the same with the US market. Soon, they would send products to a small firm in Boston to test the New England market and to a company in Atlanta to test Chicago and Atlanta. They would send products to me to test the markets in DC, Maryland, Virginia, and Pennsylvania.
My brother called to tell me the South Africa Fruit Juice Company (SAFJC) had just sent me 240 pounds of juice. Unable to visualize how much this was, I asked, "Will 240 pounds of juice fit in my car?"
He said, "No, probably not."
Not long after that, I received a call from the port of Baltimore informing me that I had a shipment of juice. I rented a van and drove to the airport to pick it up. It was disgusting. The juice was packaged in an aseptic container (much like many milk products are packaged today), and a few of the boxes had broken open during shipment. Bugs and flies were everywhere. Also somewhat disturbing was the fact that I couldn't read the label on the package. It was written in Afrikaans, which was the official language of South Africa during apartheid. The only English words were "Product of South Africa."
Thanks, brother, I thought to myself as I tried to figure out some way to get 240 pounds of leaky juice into my rented van.
When I got home, I threw out the spoiled containers and put some of the unspoiled juice into the refrigerator. The next day, I sat down and tasted the peach juice. Wow! It really was good. I poured myself another glass. I was so excited. I looked outside and it was a beautiful day, the kind of day when you think everything is possible. My mind was spinning with the following thoughts: I can't believe how great this product is. There is nothing like it in the States. My brother was right. And then all of sudden, I had what felt like an epiphany. I actually said out loud to myself, "I am going to do something big with this juice. I am going to earn the distribution rights for the entire US market and give 10 percent of my pretax profits back to South Africa to help Mandela transform the country."
In that moment, with the sun shining, providing what felt like clarity and insight, I decided that I wanted to establish a center to help educate and empower the black population, newly freed from the shackles of apartheid. For nearly 50 years, the apartheid government had segregated living areas, education, medical care, beaches, and other public services, and provided black people with services inferior to those of whites. Finally, here was my opportunity to help people and make a real impact on the world. I was going to help save South Africa. I said to myself, "What if I could actually meet Mandela, wouldn't that be amazing?" Instead of "Miss American Express," I instantly became the "Fruit Juice Lady." With this new identity, for the first time in a long time I felt excited about getting up in the morning. I had a giddy feeling, the same feeling I had as a little girl when I knew I could be helpful or after realizing I had been. I now had a new purpose, a new reason for being!
THE FRUIT JUICE LADY
The Food and Drug Administration had just enacted the Nutrition Labeling and Education Act of 1990, which required all products to display nutrition information on the label. I decided that unless the product was tested by an independent lab for quality and nutrition, I wouldn't touch it. I was concerned that even though the juice was distributed in 64 countries, it might not be safe by US standards. Did South Africa have an FDA? How could I ensure the safety of the product? I was able to leverage my contacts at the White House, who put me in touch with Dr. Simpson, a high-level executive at the FDA, to guide me through the process. Dr. Simpson suggested an independent lab in Maryland and also put me in touch with US Customs agents to help me understand the requirements for importing a fruit juice into the United States, specifically into the port of Baltimore.
My colleagues also facilitated a meeting with the highest-ranking South African diplomat to the United States (I'll call him The Diplomat), the first black person to hold that position. I told The Diplomat about my relationship with the SAFJC and my commitment to give 10 percent of my pretax profits back to South Africa. He was very impressed with this and felt it could serve as a model for other companies to do business in South Africa. When things got rolling, he said, he would help me establish a charitable trust in South Africa to set up the training and empowerment center.
Two months later, my company, Bethington Enterprises, presented a proposal to the SAFJC to become the consultant for US distribution. My goal was to eventually become the preferred distributor by adding undeniable and indispensable value to the company. The proposal was accepted, and in April 1994 I flew to South Africa to meet with Pieter, the director of international markets. He arranged for me to stay in a beautiful hotel in Cape Town and also took me sightseeing. We drove to Cape Point, a popular tourist site where the Indian and Atlantic oceans meet. We found it easy to talk to one another, and during the drive Pieter told me about how much he traveled, being responsible for the distribution of the fruit juice in 64 countries. He expressed his excitement about being able to enter the US market after so many years. He committed to doing anything he could to help me get the product ready for US distribution.
Later, over a cup of tea back at the hotel, Pieter signed the consulting agreement and pledged to wire 50 percent of the contract fee upfront. It was an exciting moment. Before he left he took the trouble to meet with the concierge to arrange for transportation for me back to the airport the next day. On the flight back, I remember thinking about how nice he was, and how well he accommodated me. For me this was a good sign, a sign of a potentially good relationship.
I returned to the United States; the SAFJC contract fee had hit my account and I immediately began the arduous task of identifying and complying with all the FDA requirements for juice. I contracted with the recommended lab to conduct pesticide testing as well as microbiological and authenticity testing and to measure the vitamin and mineral content for the entire 24-flavor product line. This process took about nine months. During this time, I did an extensive analysis of the beverage industry to determine if there was a gap in the market; whether industry forces were favorable, and if so, the key success factors; and, finally, if and how the product could sustain a competitive advantage.
I learned that it was clearly a tough, capital-intensive business, and there were formidable challenges in securing and maintaining shelf space in supermarkets. On the other hand, the product was 100 percent pure fruit juice in a variety of unique flavors (not just orange, grape, and apple), and it satisfied a compelling need in the emerging health-conscious consumer market. There was a clear gap in the fruit juice segment of the beverage industry, which made the overall opportunity attractive to me. (Besides, I was going to save South Africa!)
In early January 1995, the lab results came in. I called Dr. Simpson at the FDA and asked him to review all the documents. He reviewed all the materials, the laboratory results, and nutrition labels for the entire line and gave me his informal approval that I had met all the requirements for US distribution. I immediately faxed a copy of the labels to the SAFJC.
I have to admit that at that moment, I was very proud of myself. After all, I hadn't known anything about fruit juice before this, and now I knew about vitamin C dissipation rates and how many bug parts are allowed per 250 milliliters of juice. I was an overnight expert—definitely the Fruit Juice Lady, and I loved it.
PROOF OF CONCEPT
Throughout the nine-month FDA compliance process, I had developed a close relationship with Pieter. He was coming to the United States for the Fancy Food Show at the Javits Center in New York, so we arranged for a meeting of the three US distributors in New York. In that meeting, I handed Pieter a complete binder—with a red bow on top for effect—of the hard copy test results, and a nutrition label for each of the 24 products. I was elated when he expressed his appreciation and acknowledged that the SAFJC would not have access to the most sought-after market in the world were it not for the efforts of Bethington Enterprises. My strategy—and all my effort—was clearly working.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Objective Leader by Elizabeth R. Thornton. Copyright © 2015 Elizabeth R. Thornton. Excerpted by permission of Palgrave Macmillan.
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