GENERATION FLUX'S SECRET WEAPON (1)
In
a world of rapid change and great uncertainty, the greatest
competitive advantage of all may be at your very core.
"Our
investors are here for only one reason: great returns. They want to
make money." Chipotle's customers, Ells says, are equally
focused: "They care about taste, value, and convenience."
What about the company's ballyhooed mission of "Food With
Integrity"? Ells laughs acerbically: "Is that ever going to
be the reason people come into the store? 'Oh, I want to eat food
with integrity right now!' I don't think so."
Yet
mission is exactly what makes Chipotle
so
much more than just the taste of its barbacoa. "Food With
Integrity" animates every decision the company makes, from the
slaughterhouse to the food line at your local outlet to the strategic
planning at the Denver headquarters. When Ells, who's a chef himself,
launched Chipotle 21 years ago, he focused on fresh ingredients. That
evolved over time into an awareness of all the different forms of
exploitation inherent in traditional fast food--of animals, of the
environment, and even of customers. Chipotle has distinguished itself
from the Burger Kings and McDonald's of this world by relying on
"naturally raised" meat that is antibiotic- and
hormone-free, by dropping trans fats from its cooking before doing so
was in vogue, and by offering organically certified beans and
avocados. "It's the responsible thing to do," says Ells.
Other chains reheat frozen items in a mechanized system. At Chipotle,
Ells points out, "we're actually cooking. If you walk into the
refrigerator, you'll see fresh onions and peppers and raw meat that
isn't tenderized or treated in any way."
That
mission drives Chipotle's sales and marketing tactics. Chipotle
eschews dollar menus and other standard fast food gimmicks, offering
a narrow range of meal options at relatively high prices. When
Chipotle's ad agencies couldn't find a way to make "food with
integrity" a compelling sales proposition, Ells dumped them and
brought marketing in-house. Now the company is winning industry
awards, and building valuable customer loyalty, through campaigns
such as The
Scarecrow.
The online video and game about farmers and fresh
food
has
become a best seller on the App Store, downloaded nearly 700,000
times. This distinctive approach has fueled Chipotle's growth. The
company now has some 1,700 stores, up from 1,350 two years ago;
revenue is $3.6 billion, up more than $1 billion over the same time;
and Chipotle's market cap doubled to a whopping $21 billion.
When
I ask Ells about another large company's mission statement--one that
revolves around being the "best" in its industry--he cuts
me off: "What kind of a mission is that?" he asks. "I
don't want to shit all over his mission. It's his mission. He can
have whatever he wants, but that kind of thing wouldn't work for us."
At another point, I ask about his competition. If traditional
fast-food chains change their practices in reaction to Chipotle's
success, would he see that as a good thing overall, because it
broadens the food-with-integrity culture? Or would he view it as a
threat? "It's a joke," he replies. "You know those
guys, right? They can't change. The culture is just too ingrained.
Which bodes very well for Chipotle."
Steve
Ells and Chipotle are hardly
alone in embracing what Ells calls a "loftier" vision for
the enterprise. "If you want me to make decisions that have a
clear ROI," another renegade CEO declared at a public
shareholder meeting earlier this year, "then you should get out
of the stock, just to be plain and simple." A few months
earlier, that same renegade had announced that his company was
committed to "advancing humanity." He claimed that his
frame for decision making was moral: "We do things because
they're just and right." This emphasis on social goals over
financial performance seems almost revolutionary--and yet the
renegade is none other than
Tim
Cook
of
Apple, CEO of the most valuable company in the world.
Ells
and Cook represent a rising breed of business leaders who are
animated not just by money but by the pursuit of a larger societal
purpose. Their motivation may be personal, emotional, and, yes,
moral; and yet their idealism is rewarded in the marketplace. In a
world that is evolving faster than ever, companies such as Apple and
Chipotle--and Google and PepsiCo,
and even fashion brands like Eileen Fisher--rely on mission to unlock
product differentiation, talent acquisition and retention, and even
investor loyalty. The more they focus on something beyond money, the
more money they make.
Their
success calls into question many entrenched assumptions about
corporate success and the frameworks and priorities that shareholders
and strategists have come to rely on. So much of the business world
remains primarily obsessed with quarterly financial performance. But
these short-term metrics can distract from an enterprise's long-term
impact on the world, and that distraction can result in products and
other offerings that undercut value creation. At a time when the pace
of change is unrelenting, this may be the biggest weakness in today's
economic system.
I've
written several articles recently about something I call Generation
Flux. This refers to the group of people best positioned to thrive in
today's era of high-velocity change. Fluxers are defined not by their
chronological age but by their willingness and ability to adapt.
These are the people who are defining where business and culture are
moving. And purpose is at the heart of their actions. Don't confuse
this with social service. For these folks, a mission is the essential
strategic tool that allows them to filter the modern barrage of
stimuli, to motivate and engage those around them, and to find new
and innovative ways to solve the world's problems. Their experiences
show the critical advantages of building mission into your career and
your business. Businesses that find and then live by their mission
often discover that it becomes their greatest competitive advantage.
BY
ROBERT
SAFIAN
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