The Coke Machine - Michael Blanding [148]
A warm, southern breeze was blowing as shareholders walked up the ramp to the Gwinnett Convention Center, a half-hour north of the city where Coke was born. By coincidence, the day chosen for the meeting happened to be Earth Day, a fact underscored by the environmental showcase Coke set up in the lobby with displays touting new soda bottles and T-shirts made from recycled PET and a video loop of the Spartanburg recycling plant.
Inside the convention hall, a high ceiling full of metal panels in geometrical shapes created the feeling of being inside a giant erector set. “We’d like to start with a little bit of happiness from Coca-Cola,” began Isdell, taking the stage to launch Coke’s newest advertising campaign, “Open Happiness,” with a new music video. “I think the song really captures the positivity, the optimism, and the real fun of Brand Coke,” he said. “This is a business about people, a business about belief. If we want to have a sustainable business, then the communities we serve need to be sustainable in and of themselves.”
Standing before the crowd, Isdell had a lot to be happy about. He was handing over a stronger and more secure company than the one he’d inherited, having navigated Coke over the rocky shoals of childhood obesity and Colombian murder trials, the bottled water backlash and controversy over water pollution and depletion in India. He turned over the meeting to Muhtar Kent, a Turkish businessman who rose from head of international relations to become Coke’s newly minted CEO. Immediately, Kent dispensed with the happiness talk to address what mattered most: growth. Every day, he said, the world had “multiple hydration occasions,” and the increasing trends of urbanization and a growing middle class around the world perfectly positioned Coke to take advantage of them. Putting up a PowerPoint chart, he showed that Mexico consumed some six hundred cups of Coke products per person per year, and the United States had four hundred, while the global average languished at one hundred. “What an amazing opportunity!” he concluded.
Kent handed the meeting back to Isdell for questions. True to form, Rogers was first out of his seat, launching into a rant about the illegitimacy of the ILO and TERI investigations into Colombia and India. “I wish you had updated your facts from the last time you were here,” said Isdell, before turning to another questioner, who asked a more innocuous question about the old age of the board of directors. “I want to start a youth movement,” the questioner said.
Suddenly a student with the Killer Coke campaign leaped up, yelling, “I am part of the youth movement, and we are not on your side.”
“If you want to ask your question, I must ask you return to your seat,” responded Isdell. “If not you’ll be evicted.” The youth kept yelling, red-faced, as security guards in black jackets came up and put their hands on his shoulders, leading him out of the room in a reminder of Rogers’s own ejection five years earlier.
It was pure political theater—but it started a roll for the activists in the crowd. With floodlights in Isdell’s eyes, he had no control over whom he called on, and one by one the forces of Killer Coke took the mic. Srivastava stood up to blast operations in India, warning investors that Coke may be forced to pay hefty fines in India. Next Camilo Romero blamed Coke for failing to bargain in good faith with the Colombians. Then it was