'Cut the BS, tell me the bad news'

My former boss, Chander Mohan Sethi, chose to stay out of the media spotlight. When the former chairman and MD of Reckitt India passed away recently, I felt sad that an entire generation of young managers knew little about his role in making Reckitt one of the top players in the FMCG space.

When Chander took over the India operations in 2001, Reckitt Benckiser (as it was known then) was a mid-sized company. However, his aggressive approach took the company into the big league by the time he gave up the India charge in 2014. That would explain our nickname for him—'Tiger'! (The company's revenue is now around Rs 10,000 crore).

It was Chander who interviewed and then hired me for the post of Brand Manager, Dettol, in 1992. I don't remember much about that encounter, but I soon realised that he had a forthright, bold and impatient style that people either loved or hated. His typical response when things were not going well: “Cut the BS, tell me the bad news.” 

Chander had come up the sales ladder and had a deep appreciation of how distribution could make or mar a brand's performance. So, when brand managers like myself talked of market share and the like, he wanted to know about primary and secondary sales. He would correlate our brand talk with the action on shop shelves.

When Chander visited a store, he'd invariably flip the pack to check the date of manufacture. If it had been lying on the shelf for months, he'd snort, "Are we selling fast-moving goods or slow-moving goods?"

For many who had a chance to work under his leadership, most meetings ended up being a lesson in business management. Doing what is right and doing it right took precedence above everything and everyone, even if it was the hardest option.

He was not someone who would even glance at the easy way out. He always urged us to aim high and never give up. (We also had to deal with his penchant for numbers and an elephant-like memory!) 

If his exterior was tough, Chander also believed in the old adage, 'Work hard, party hard.' As long back as 25 years ago, if the team had done well, he'd take us all to an offsite overseas – an unheard-of privilege in the India of those days.

Chander moved to Nigeria in 1994 and was on his way back to take charge in India when he called me. I'd risen to General Manager, Marketing, when he offered me the position of Marketing Director in Lagos, Nigeria. 

I was uneasy about taking up the assignment since Nigeria was considered an unsafe place then, but Chander brushed my worry aside, saying, "If I could live in Lagos for seven-eight years with two daughters, so can you."

I thought I'd use the excuse of house hunting to check out Lagos before saying 'yes'. Chander, who I suspect knew what I was up to, sank my adventure by asking, "What kind of house do you want? I will get it for you."

Chander was true to his word. He made sure that we got home in a safe part of Lagos. And that was not all. Imagine my wife’s surprise when we entered our new home and she opened the pantry: Chander had even ensured that it was loaded with Indian spices! I can't imagine many top managers going to such lengths for a junior colleague. Can you?

Chander was an anchor for the scores of managers who worked with him at Reckitt India, and he became a friend, guide and mentor for many of us. 

We pray for his soul. Rest in peace, Tiger!!

(Our guest author, Pravin Kini, is a consultant on business strategy and marketing.)