Anthony Painter

Guest post by Stephen Adshead

Several years ago, Two New Zealand schoolgirls – Anna Devathasan and Jenny Suo (both aged 14) – completed a science project at Pakuranga College in Auckland, in which they looked at Vitamin C and tested the claim on Ribena’s packaging that ‘The blackcurrants in Ribena contain four times the Vitamin C of oranges’. Anna and Jenny tested the delicious blackcurrant cordial against rival brands of Ribena, looking in particular for the degradation of Vitamin C over time.

They found that there was a meager amount of Vitamin C in Ribena, let alone four times the content of orange juice drinks. In fact, their research suggested that Ribena contained four times less Vitamin C than another brand’s orange juice drink. Anna and Jenny contacted the manufacturers, GlaxoSmithKline (GSK).

The debacle that followed is a textbook case of the dangers of dismissing legitimate concerns outright, particularly those of children. Interestingly, it might have been sensible for the executives at GSK to have read books on good parenting.

I was a fabulous parent before I had children. I confidently predicted that I would not dismiss my kids’s feelings or emotions, nor utter dismissive phrases like ‘you don’t really feel that way towards your brother’ or ‘you can’t be tired, you just slept’. Basking in 8 hours of blissfully uninterrupted sleep, I recognised then the genuine feelings and emotions of children; that it is perfectly possible that they could have just slept and still be tired; or that they might well be angry with a sibling. Stock parental responses – aimed at stemming that particular argument – would never pass my lips.

Unfortunately, GSK’s response was closer to my parenting skills now that I actually have children. GSK initially tried to manage the situation by ignoring them. When they wouldn’t be ignored, GSK tried to brush them off with semantics -‘It’s the blackcurrants that have it [i.e. the Vitamin C]’. GSK did not add ‘stupid’ at the end, although the inference throughout was that discerning purchasers of Ribena would distinguish between blackcurrants and Ribena, and would not be confused into thinking that the drink contained four times the Vitamin C of orange juice.

The intrepid 14 year olds took their findings, and GSK’s response, to the Advertising Standards Authority, the Commerce Commission in New Zealand, and an Australasian consumer television programme called, amusingly, Fair Go. The people at Fair Go thought, unsurprisingly, that the kids had not been given a fair go and, fair dinkum, other media outlets then picked up the David versus Goliath story. In short order, GSK faced 88 counts of false advertising, eventually pleading guilty to 15 charges of breaching fair trading laws. GSK was fined $217,500 (and ordered to pay for corrective advertising), however, the real cost was much higher. A repentant GSK general manager in New Zealand, the ‘author’ of the advertisement, appeared on new television commercials walking through lush blackcurrant orchards and discussing the fruit’s Vitamin C content, but this was too little, too late. Ribena sales slumped and destroyed 70 years’ worth of consumer trust in GSK’s product (fortuitously for GSK, only in Australasia).

Companies, like parents, often think that it is their job to persuade, whilst forgetting their duty to listen. Parenting books such as ‘How To Talk So That Your Kids Will Listen, How To Listen So That Your Kids Will Talk’, by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish, suggest that instead of dismissing negative feelings, a parent should acknowledge them. If a child says ‘you are always with the baby’, parents should not respond ‘No, I am not, didn’t I just read to you?’, they (or we) should try to put the child’s feeling into words – ‘you don’t like it when I spend so much time with him, do you?’ When your child returns home saying that ‘my teacher is mean’, parents shouldn’t dismiss it, but respond in a way that gets to the root of the problem.

Had GSK done this with Anna and Jenny, what a difference it would have made. GSK could have invited them into the building to present their findings (30 minutes, zero cost). Instead of relying on semantics or truth-slanting, GSK could have invited the children to talk to their scientists to discuss testing procedures; asked them they thought the statement on the packaging might be misleading; and if they were in charge of GSK what they would do. I doubt that Anna and Jenny would have complained further, even if GSK had ultimately decided not to change a thing. They would have been acknowledged, actively listened to, and may even have learned more about Vitamin C degredation in the process that was useful for their school project. They would also, most likely, have continued to buy Ribena. They, like me, probably regarded Vitamin C as a bonus; drinking it in reality for the delicious fructose.

There is an excellent illustrative example in ‘How To Talk …’ The first is the more usual conversation with a child. In the second conversation, the father, fresh from a workshop with the authors, resists the temptation to answer and make good straight away. My comments are in square brackets.

First

Son I’d like to punch that Michael in the nose!

Father Why? What happened?

Son He threw my notebook in the dirt!

Father Well, did you do something to him first? [Notice how the father asks a closed question - i.e. yes or no - straightaway]

Son No

Father Are you sure?

Son I swear, I never touched him.

Father Michael is your friend. If you take my advice, you’ll forget about the whole thing. You’re not so perfect you know. Sometimes you start up and then blame someone else – you way you do with your brother. [Notice how the father proffers advice very quickly, thinking that is the end of the story.]

Son No, I don’t. He starts up with me first… Oh, I can’t talk to you.

Second

Son I’d like to punch that Michael in the nose!

Father Boy, are you angry! [Putting his son's feelings into words.]

Son I’d like to push his fat face in!

Father You are that mad with him?

Son You know what that bully did? He grabbed my notebook at the bus stop and threw it in the dirt. And for no reason!

Father Hmmm [The temptation here is to ask closed questions, but it is better to let the child continue.]

Son I bet he thought I was the one who broke his dumb clay bird in the art room.

Father You think so

Son He kept looking at me all the time he was crying

Father Oh

Son But I didn’t break it. I didn’t.

Father Well, you know that you didn’t. [This is a clever response that neither agrees or disagrees with the version of events thus far.]

Son Well I didn’t do it on purpose. I couldn’t help it if that stupid Debby pushed me into the table.

Father So Debby pushed you.

Son Yeah. A lot of things got knocked down, but the only thing that broke was the bird. I didn’t mean to break it. His bird was good.

Father You really didn’t mean to break it.

Son No, but he wouldn’t believe me.

Father You don’t think he’d believe you if you told him the truth.

Son I don’t know. I am going to tell him anyway – whether he believes me or not. And I think he should tell me he’s sorry for throwing my notebook in the dirt. [Notice how the child has come to his own conclusion as to what to do, aided by a parent who resisted the temptation to jump in.]

There are a few morals in this story, but the main one is listen first, act later. It is true of companies. It is even more true of children.

Stephen Adshead is a litigator-turned-risk manager-turned-blogger.