The Coke Machine - Michael Blanding [67]
Alone among the Big Three bottled water producers, Coke held out. “The FDA’s definition of purified water does not require [revealing] the source,” argued Coke spokesman Ray Crockett. “We believe consumers know what they’re buying.” Unfortunately, his words turned out to be too true. After a decade of near double digit growth, bottled water suddenly plummeted in 2008—with sales volume dropping 2 percent over the previous year. Dasani fared even worse, with sales dropping 4 percent, despite slashing its prices by 40 percent in the previous three years.
Part of that was due to the major recession that hit that fall; as consumers tightened their belts, they cut down on luxuries such as a $1.50 bottle of water at the convenience store to fill their own bottles at the tap. But they might never have made the choice to do that had they not already been assured they’d be safe doing so. As the recession hit, CAI moved from city hall to the state house, encouraging governors to cut state bottled water contracts to save scarce state resources. By then, Coca-Cola had already planned its response, and true to form, it was more in the vein of changing its image than changing its reality. Over the last hundred-some years, Coke had gone from a health tonic to an all-American drink to a symbol of worldwide harmony. Now it would work to undergo its biggest branding change in decades to become an environmental steward.
Lined up outside the bottling plant in Needham are eight tractor trailers, their polished sides gleaming red in the sun. Another, pulled around in front of several rows of foldable chairs, is hung with a big sign on the side: “Do You Know This Hybrid Electric Truck Helps Reduce Emissions in Our City?” The press conference today has been called to announce the addition of fifteen of these new hybrid trucks to the Massachusetts fleet, part of Coca-Cola Enterprises’ “Commitment 2020,” a new initiative to become an environmentally sustainable company within the next decade.
“We’ve set pretty aggressive goals,” says Fred Roselli, CCE’s press officer, standing in the parking lot before the press conference. Wearing big black sunglasses and a black suit despite the eighty-degree heat, he looks like a Mormon Bible salesman, and has the enthusiasm to match. “We’re reducing absolute numbers of carbon 15 percent from our 2007 levels,” he patters. “We’ve installed energy efficient lighting, we’re putting in water-saving technology, we’ve started a whole new company to do recycling.” The tractor trailers, he says, are part of the largest fleet of hybrid trucks in North America—some 237 by the end of 2009, each one spewing 30 percent fewer emissions into the air.
All of these environmental initiatives are “part of CRS,” says North American president for Coca-Cola Enterprises Steve Cahillane, as he takes the podium. On cue, employees circulate through the crowd, handing out pins in the shape of a green Coke bottle reading “Corporate Responsibility & Sustainability.” “CRS is all about making a difference wherever our business touches the world,” Cahillane continues. “We not only work here, we also live here, so we are doing everything we can to create sustainable communities.”
The concept of socially responsible business practices isn’t new—though usually it’s called CSR, for “corporate social responsibility” (perhaps inverting the letters is a way for Coke to claim ownership of the concept). In fact, Coke’s environmental initiatives follow a script that dates back to the 1950s. It’s then that corporations, having survived the Progressive Era and FDR’s New Deal, began to proactively affirm the power