Pret a Manger case shows companies must live up to their promises

Pret's promise to 'do the right thing' made its handling of the tragic death of Natasha Ednan-Laperouse even worse

Businesses are poring over the Pret a Manger allergy case, crossing themselves, observing the there but for the grace of God mantra, and asking themselves what they can do to stop something similar happening to them.

Teenager Natasha Ednan-Laperouse’s death after a reaction to eating a baguette containing an ingredient to which she was allergic, and that did not carry a notice of ingredients on its packaging, has caused consternation in head offices. The sheer weight of the coverage of the inquest – on 24-hour news TV and radio, newspaper front and inside pages, and social media – has brought home how today’s media can engulf a brand. The storm is ferocious and unrelenting. There is no escape, no hiding place.

For those in the food and catering industries, the prospect of another tragic episode is very real. But the fear goes much wider. Any firm found to have done, or not done, anything perceived as causing harm is in danger of being similarly swamped.

First and foremost, the response of senior management is to turn to a lawyer. But, as Julian Pike – a partner at solicitors Farrer & Co – points out in his excellent note entitled Pret: A sandwich short of the full reputational picnic, the food chain was not legally obliged to label ingredients on the packaging. “It can be said the law was wrong, but not Pret’s adherence to it,” writes Pike.

Immediately after the inquest, Pret announced it was changing its policy and would list all ingredients on all products. This was some two years after Natasha died.

Why the delay? Pike speculates Pret may have been advised not to do so, “until after the inquest hearing concluded, mindful perhaps that such changes could be interpreted as an admission, and/or being advised that it was better to wait and see how events unfolded”.

The implication is that Pret was hedging its bets; that it might have escaped criticism and publicity, and would not have had to embark on the costly procedure of relabelling its wares; that the lawyers said the company was okay to adopt this approach.

This, though, pays no heed to how Pret’s behaviour might look; how taking two years until after someone died – and even then only changing the labelling once damaging public scrutiny had occurred – could be perceived.

What made it worse for Pret, is that someone once came up with the bright suggestion of declaring as a core value its commitment to “doing the right thing”.

The words read well, everyone around the table will have nodded their enthusiasm, but, question: did any of them ever actually pause to consider what the words really mean?

The problem with statements such as this is you can’t pick and choose; you can’t do the right thing some of the time and not the rest, in regard to some customers but not all, or to your employees and suppliers. It has to be in relation to everybody and everything; it must permeate every aspect of a company’s life, to be embedded in its “DNA”.

That includes looking at ingredients that carry a risk of danger and telling people about them. It certainly means being up-front once someone has been harmed – not waiting two years to do something about the problem. In Pret’s case, “doing the right thing” cannot involve nine – yes, nine! – cases involving the same allergen of sesame come and go, without labelling it on the packaging. The tenth instance was that of poor Natasha.

And “doing the right thing” is not allowing two years to elapse before sending the family a letter of condolence – just weeks before the inquest.

This is where businesses go wrong. Pret specially cites “doing the right thing” in reference to its tax strategy. That’s fine, and no one could dispute the honourable intention, the willingness to be seen to be open and above board, and to pay absolutely the appropriate level of tax. But the phrase does not stop there. As I say, you can’t be selective with such a statement. It’s either a core value or it isn’t, and if it is, it applies everywhere.

The lesson here is to not allow any difference between the company’s trumpeted values and how it conducts itself

Brands want to be trusted. More than that, they want to use such confidence as part of their sales pitch. Holiday provider Thomas Cook prides itself on being a name people can depend upon, that customers choose their one big family outlay of the year in the knowledge they’re buying something that is reliable, that’s tried and tested. So confident is management, the company uses as a slogan, “Don’t just book it…Thomas Cook it!”

That standing took a ferocious beating, however, when two children died from carbon monoxide poisoning on one of the group’s holidays in Greece. The travel company maintained it was not liable – the hotel was to blame. Legally, that was correct, but the family did not book with the hotel, they decided to “Thomas Cook it”, and put their faith in a name they thought they could trust.

Years of obfuscation followed. It was only when the chief executive suggested meeting the children’s parents that the tide of negativity turned. Suddenly, the company was seen to have a human face, and to be managed by someone who cared. By then, though, the brand’s halo had endured an almighty battering.

In both the Pret and Thomas Cook episodes, being in an unwelcome spotlight prompted further negative coverage – more stories appeared where the companies were alleged to have been found wanting.

The lesson here is to not allow any difference between the company’s trumpeted values and how it conducts itself. A ubiquitous London Underground announcement warns commuters to “mind the gap” between trains and stations – the existence of such a void between perception and reality should also reverberate loud and clear in every boardroom.

Chris Blackhurst is a former editor of The Independent, and director of C|T|F Partners, the campaigns, strategic and crisis communications advisory firm