It's a sad day. Firefly waters - launched with a flurry of awards and publicity a year ago - will disappear from the shelves tonight.

We love our waters - low calorie, all natural, full of antioxidants, and really rather delicious - but they haven't taken off.

Why didn't they take off, and what can we learn?

The reasons...
1) Rubbish timing. Within a month of launching Firefly Waters, Pepsi bought V Water, and Coke brought out Vitaminwater - so we had to compete against "buy 3 cases get 3 cases free" deals that filled up everyone's fridges and squeezed us out. Vitaminwater's campaign was well-executed: they had vans delivering to all the London newsagents and cafes every day, with good clear "point of sale". And the Vitaminwater name is nice and clear - it makes you think "vitamins plus water" - even when you know it's actually got a fair bit of sugar and other stuff in there, you still get a subliminal feeling of doing yourself some good. We met our match.

2) Dull packaging. Our Firefly drinks are so gorgeous, they practically leap off the shelves. But for our waters, we made lots of compromises: use this bottle because it's available, settle for this design because we have to hit our Spring launch date, etc. The bottles ended up looking bland, and indistinguishable from the other enhanced waters - or as AA Gill put it, like Scandinavian Antifreeze.
And if people don't pick up your bottle, it doesn't matter how engaging the writing is or how delicious the drink is - it's not going to sell.

3) Bottling problems. We had a run that went wrong (a few drinks went mouldy before their shelf life was up). So we had to recall every bottle from the shelves, and re-launch a month later. But after all that shenanigans, we weren't too surprised that the shops that had Firefly water before weren't exactly begging to have it back.

The lessons.
1) Focus on the core brand. We launched a new range because we saw growth slowing on the core Firefly range... So we thought "let's make a new range of antioxidant waters to add some extra sales" - and devoted all our sales and marketing energies to the new range, leaving Firefly to languish, unloved.
It's a classic marketing error. If the core range isn't growing fast enough, work out why, and fix it. Firefly's a fantastic brand with a loyal following - don't give up on it the moment it hits a rocky patch. In this instance, there were two problems with the Firefly brand. First, it was too "cryptic" for a mainstream audience. And second, the herbs weren't delivering enough of a noticeable "boost" - or in marketing-speak, we weren't delivering enough on our brand promise. Watch this space...

2) Don't compromise. When we launched Firefly, we had a clear vision of what we wanted, and we bent over backwards to make it perfect. But when we developed our waters, we were trying too hard to fit within cost constraints, bottling constraints, time constraints - we were acting like a big business rather than an entrepreneurial business. We settled for "good enough" rather than "mind-blowing". Our lives didn't depend on how fabulous this drink was - and it showed.

Still, we'll miss our waters - we're all hooked in the office. Maybe one day we can dust down the recipes, come up with a great name and a radical bottle, and watch them fly. But in the meantime, it's good to be focused on Firefly again: and our first quarter sales are looking really rather encouraging...

Cover your ears - much trumpet-blowing - we won an award.
Firefly are Cisco "Customer Kings".
(I'm still wondering if it's because the entry deadline - 23rd December - meant that most companies were too hungover to enter. More fool them...)

And the resulting interviews on Oprah and Jonathan Ross (Cisco's PR machine is hot) got me thinking about this riveting topic - customer service.
Don't yawn. Yet.

You see, at school we're never taught how to complain - or how to respond to complaints. So when we start our "jobs", and have to deal with a "complaint", we slip into this weird language: "We apologise for any inconvenience you may have suffered"... "As a gesture of goodwill"... "Your statutory rights are unaffected".
Where do we learn this "autoreplyspeak"? I mean, no-one actually talks like that, do they?
I'm wondering if it's because we all sent broken Skittles back to Mars when we were little - and those 50p vouchers that seemed so generous were in fact an evil plot to seed a new language among 10 year old children with not enough pocket-money.

Because, worse still, the autoreplyspeak has spread to the people sending in the complaints. We have wonderful letters and emails here at Firefly - and most people, even when complaining, manage to do so in a friendly, understanding way. But occasionally you get a letter that sounds reads like it's been written by a robot.
And yet, let's think, which are the letters I go out of my way to respond to? Well, the nice ones, of course. I'll do anything I can to patch things up with a friendly, loyal customer who's had a disappointing experience. But if someone's going to just go on a robotic rant, I stop feeling compassion for them, and start thinking like a robot too. Lawsuit-phobia kicks in, and anything I say might be used as evidence that I was once a human-being.

We all need reminding every now and again, don't we, that every little interaction we have with "customers" or "call-centre agents" is still a shared moment with a real person - someone who has the same messy tangle of memories, dreams and worries that we have. And when people treat us as real people - that little gesture, that bit of banter that shows they value this moment with us - it makes life a little richer and happier, and we appreciate it.
That's all really.

I caught myself on this recently with my "customer" hat on. I went to an Intelligence Squared debate a few weeks back, and felt it was spoiled by the new addition of TV cameras for BBC World. And since I love these debates, I was crestfallen. So I wrote to the organisers.

I was about to write a litany of all the things that were wrong with the debate. But then I thought, how would I think if I received that? Demoralised. "Another moaner". Whatever.
No - these are intelligent people, who want to do the right thing, just like me. If I relate to them, thanking them for all the great things they've achieved, and appreciating the tricky decision process they've doubtless been through, they're probably more likely to think about what I say.
I got the nicest reply. Human, respectful, and to-the-point. I was happy. And in some small way, the sum of human karma had been enhanced rather than chipped-away.

It's just common sense and decency.
Autoreplyspeak is bad for humankind. We must fight the Martians.

Talk about herd mentality.
Last year we were all quietly glossing over the impending global meltdown. "Chin up - it's not that bad".
But when I got back from my (inexcusably long) Christmas holiday, panic had set in and the West was doomed.
"Unprecedented". "Carnage". "Depression". "Slump". The pound collapsing. 2 for 1 in every restaurant. Even Obama's twinkle has turned to grey-faced gravity.
My newfound South American "life's pretty great" karma was gone in a jiffy. Sigh.

So how are we feeling it at Firefly?

Well, we're reasonably upbeat - but certainly not immune.
Independent cafes and delis are our core customers - and lots of them are suffering and even going out of business. All that imagination, effort, local lifeblood, snuffed out.
That pushes our wholesalers out of business (we've lost two already).
And fewer places selling Firefly means lower Firefly sales.
Meanwhile, the collapsing pound pushes up our ingredient costs - though we can make up a bit with our exports.

What next?

Firstly, yes, we're leaping on the money-saving wagon. Lower growth means we have to cut budgets. And join in the self-fulfilling merry-go-down. Depressing but unavoidable.

Secondly, we're asking - what do people want in a downturn?
A few thoughts:
1) I'll still spend on small luxuries - but I want more evidence that it's worth it.
So I'll still buy Gu chocolate puds (I can taste the difference). But not £3 mineral water in restaurants (I can't).
Our response: make Firefly's benefits clearer.
So we're strengthening our herbal extracts so you can feel the natural energy hit more immediately.
And we're making the "natural energy" message clearer on the bottle. Whilst making sure "all natural" and "no added sugar" don't get lost in the cheeky chat.

2) I want to reflect on what's really important.
First we turned against consumerism. We all read "No Logo" after the dot-com crash, cursing the big, greedy, polluting corporations.
But that was when the rise of the corporation seemed inevitable. Our privacy, our choices, our public spaces, would gradually be eroded, and we'd all turn into consuming clones.
Now, corporations, governments, capitalism, money itself - they all look shaky.
So now we're asking "what's life all about?". We're reading books about energy, humanity, buddhist philosophy. "The Secret" (ahem). Eckhart Tolle. Auras not egos. More time with our parents. Simplifying our lives - cultivating our gardens. We're searching for a new movement, a new vision. It could be 1968 all over again. A little hippie honeymoon.

Firefly's response?
There's something vaguely hippie about a natural herbal drink. Getting an energy boost from nature rather than chemicals. With Polaroids of the great outdoors.
But it doesn't feel enough. Perhaps we should be trying to answer these questions - giving a little moment of reflection. Living "in the moment". Spreading the love. Buddhism in a bottle.
But it's a bit contradictory, isn't it? Even "enlightened" consumer goods are ultimately consumer goods.

So perhaps we'd better go and sit on a beach and stare at stars.
Until the Chinese usher in the next world order, of course...

*sorry - blogger seems to have a nervous breakdown at the sight of an acute accent.

If there's one thing that really rubs me up the wrong way, it's scare stories about the "youth of today". Since the dawn of time, people have moaned that the young are "less respectful" and "less disciplined" than "when I was little". But of course they're not. We just have rose-tinted memories. We remember the couple of harsh punishments - but forget all those times we were naughty or cheeky and got away with it. Come on, admit it.

Well, this week I've had two wonderful experiences that proved that young people today are doing just fine.
First, Rosendale School - a state primary in Herne Hill.
I was asked by my friend Debbie to speak at assembly on "starting your own business". I was apprehensive - speaking to 350 5-11 year olds for 20 minutes - at best they'll be bored and restless, and at worst they'll laugh me out of there for my posh accent and preppy clothes.
But this is an inspiring school. The classrooms were festooned with children's creations. The children were polite, friendly and inquisitive. And the deputy-head, Kate Atkins, is a marvel. (there's a "super-head" who runs a handful of schools, so Kate acts as head most days I think). Kate has the most amazing energy and warmth about her. You immediately sense that she genuinely respects the children in the school: she listens to their opinions, she cares deeply about each of them. And they, of course, respect her.

My little talk was a joy. The 350 children sat cross-legged, immaculately behaved, throughout. They answered questions intelligently. Their ideas were imaginative. They were eager to learn.
Sure, this is an Ofsted-rated "outstanding" school, in a reasonably affluent borough. But Rosendale knocked the socks off my (private) primary school. Let's hope some of them do start their own businesses - there are future stars in the making here.

My second "inspiring youth" moment was yesterday's "Choir of the Year" final, at the Festival Hall.
Now I'm a choir nut - a choirboy from 7, I recently helped set up a young London choir that's going great guns (plug plug). But it seems I'm not alone - choirs are really flourishing right now. And here we had seven of Britain's finest, old and young, out to impress musical luminaries like Howard Goodall.

Wow these choirs were good. There was "Masquerade", with children as young as 7, every one of them bang in time and on-key. We had Scunthorpe Co-operative junior choir, mostly young teens, following every nuance of Susan, their conductor. And my personal favourite, Voice Squad, doing the most thrilling, technically eye-popping "samba". I just didn't know choirs could do all that.
These weren't posh kids from the home-counties. Just keen young people from Kettering, Scunthorpe and Suffolk, getting together and doing something they love - and doing it to an exceptional standard. You could feel the passion emanating from all of them.

So the future's not so bleak. As Howard said, young people today are amazing. We should be proud of them. Britain's got talent - just wait and see.

P.S., Speaking of talent, the Choir of the year presenter was Josie d'Arby - and we LOVE her. Please tell Mr. BBC controller, it's time to ditch Ross - here's to "Tonight with Josie";-)

Wasn't last night fabulous?

After nearly two years wondering if it could really come true - and panicking that some Kennedy calamity would stop him if McCain didn't - Obama is finally home and dry.
Thank you America - we were starting to doubt if you had it in you. The US was starting to feel like the land of the rich and the religious nut, rather than the land of opportunity and freedom.
The country we grew up grudgingly admiring had become paranoid, aggressive, small-minded - and yet the Americans we knew were so decent, so eager to make a difference. And when America lacks direction, lacks hope, we all get gloomy.

Watching his victory speech this morning, I must admit the tears welled up.
Growing up as a poor black American, it would have been easy for Obama to get angry. Angry at the lack of opportunity, bitter at the rich/poor divide, resigned to being treated, subconsciously perhaps, as a second-class citizen (I have a black American friend who calls America "the most racist country on Earth", and feels sick whenever he goes back there).
But Obama proves that hope can out-gun anger. This calm, considered, intelligent man doesn't fight back when attacked - he finds the common ground. He doesn't bewail his disadvantages - he shows us how much we're all capable of. He makes us want to stop taking sides and seek the common good.

There's a theme that always brings tears to my eyes. Jonathan Sacks' "Thought for the day" the day after the Madrid bombings... Martin Luther King's dream... Bobby Kennedy's words the day after King's assassination (tears every time)... Jefferson's declaration of independence...
It's the message that what unites us is greater than what divides us; that people are essentially decent - we all seek the same things - to find happiness and fulfilment and purpose in our short time here on earth; and that if we remember this, and work together, and love each other, we can make the world a better place.
It sounds a bit trite when cobbled together by amateur me.
But Obama rekindled the same feelings this morning:

Tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity and unyielding hope.

After years of Rovian paranoid politics, it's a joy and a relief. (As, to be fair, was McCain's incredibly gracious and touching concession speech.)

OK, if you're wondering what on earth these ramblings have to do with Firefly...

Well, we've been avid Obama fans at Firefly HQ since we put that bad joke on our Redbush drink (changing Redbush to Redobama - "now there's a drink you can vote for") a year ago. Back then, no-one got it. Now it would be a cliche.

Because if we didn't believe that mankind was essentially decent, and that tomorrow could be better than today, we wouldn't bother making drinks to "get the most out of life".

But today isn't really about Firefly.
Barack Obama, you've restored a little hope today.
Thank you.

We love innocent. They make good drinks, write excellent copy, support some wonderful projects in the 3rd world, and really know how to run a business.

They also certainly know how to handle the press...

Remember the £2 million campaign for "this water" earlier this year...?

Well the ASA weren't happy.
The ad was "misleading" and breached the code on "truthfulness" by failing to acknowledge that each bottle of this water contained "between 33.6 g and 42 g" of "refined, white, granulated sugar".
So they banned the ad - too late, of course, as the billboards went out in the Spring.

Quite a big story, surely.

But in the Grocer, our beloved trade journal, not a mention.

How strange.

Until someone just sent us this - a screenshot from the Grocer website of the story that was due to go out, but then mysteriously vanished. (You can't trace it on the site now).


So what made the Grocer cancel the story?

Now that's what I call good PR...

Just back from "SIAL" - the mega food biennial in Paris.

These giant trade shows are extraordinary.
Acres and acres of Greek olive oil producers.
An entire hall of regional Italian produce - enough mozzarella and parma ham to feed Islington.

I remember at "Anuga" - an even bigger food trade show in Cologne - our little tiny stand was next to the Italian section. Half their stands had nobody on them most of the time.The friendly Italians sat and drank espressos and smoked (you still could), and if anyone had the temerity to come and enquire, they looked up, puzzled, and quickly directed them elsewhere.
They had a big open meeting area just across the corridor from us - probably £10,000 for the space alone, and decked with immaculate black leather arm chairs. And I watched... and waited... and not once did I see anyone using it.
So on the third day, I went and sat in it myself, with a chum. For half an hour or so. Someone came past to get a coffee. Didn't say anything.

And we realised that none of these guys have actually paid for their vastly expensive tradeshow stands. It's probably come out of a Regional development budget, or the Common Agricultural billions. It's just a nice jolly, really.

Ever since then, I've been a bit of a sceptic of these big shows.
SIAL is more modest - like, still bigger than Hyde Park, but only on one floor (Anuga has 3!) - but you have to ask how much useful business is really being done.
How many of these stands would be here if they weren't subsidized?
And it's all so extortionate: you pay 2 grand for a tiny stand; everyone pays 70 euros just to get in for one day; all the hotels jack up their prices for the week. You pay a hundred quid to hire a light. Or an electric socket.
It's a vast gravy-train, being paid for, largely I suspect, by the world's tax-payers.

Sigh.
But the real fun was in the drinks area.
It's incredible that there are still people who wake up one day, and think, "Hey, see those energy drinks. They cost practically nothing to make, yet sell for lots of money. Let's make the same drink, in the same sized can, with a really original name, pay for a vast stand and lots of nice sexy models, and we'll be billionaires like Dietrich Mateschitz."

A few examples...





This was the one truly original concept of the show.

OK, it tasted awful, but then who ever enjoyed their first cigarette?
I'm just not sure you'll catch James Dean drinking one.











So, trade shows.
Please, governments, stop subsidizing them.
Or, I know - only subsidize the "genuinely original" stuff.
So big food spends their time making great products, rather than fussing about whether the carpet colour is "on-brand".
Much more fun.