Gordon Ramsay’s lost two Michelin Stars – more than one misfortune

As with many awards, it isn’t the winning that is the issue – it is the keeping. To win a Michelin Star is certainly an accolade which brings huge publicity and overwhelms the reservations line, enhancing reputations and bringing business success. To lose a Michelin Star … yes, you’ll face another surge of publicity, unwelcome this time, and, inevitably, a decline in people wanting to book – and a muddied, perhaps ruined, reputation for the (inevitably) high profile chef.

Many of today’s top chefs, wherever in the world they are, use their career progression to demonstrate their competence. Cutting their teeth while cutting tomatoes in a restaurant when it gained its first, second, third Michelin Star (or AA Rosette or any other well-respected culinary award) is indeed worth including in a CV. Saying, “I was head chef (or sous-chef or commis or anyone in the brigade) at Gordon Ramsay at The London NYC, Gordon Ramsay’s New York restaurant, when it was stripped of its two Michelin Stars” isn’t. Yet it might not have been the head chef’s (or anyone else in the brigade’s) fault. Maintaining a reputation depends on standards being set, taught or explained, monitored, reviewed, renewed and re-iterated – by the person at the top.

This is not a Gordon Ramsay bashing exercise. I’m a fan, obsessively watching his television programmes, marvelling at how he gets away with his antics on and off screen, and will never forget the lunch I had at Claridge’s when he was in charge of its restaurant (and oh how I wish it had been dinner so it could have gone on for longer). But, sadly, he seems to have done it again, doesn’t he – let things slip and not only at his own expense.

Many restaurants with Michelin Stars are, as is the case with The London NYC, in hotels which have their own reputations to manage. If a hotel restaurant is failing (and there are usually many signs), it is as much an issue for the hotel as it is for the restaurateur. Who wasn’t looking – at comments from customers, or tip sizes, or bookings, or local chat, or reviews? And who allowed it to get so bad that the restaurant was stripped not of one of its two stars, but both? To play on Lady Bracknell’s words in The Importance of being Earnest, “To lose one Michelin Star, Mr Ramsay, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness”.

In this case, it is a double dose of carelessness. Late in 2009, Gordon Ramsay sold his stake in The London NYC; it had gained two Michelin Stars but hadn’t gone down well with New Yorkers; there were complications with heavily unionised staff; and it was losing money at a frightening pace; he continued to give menu and service advice – and the use of his name.

My advice is always to try to avoid a crisis – there is always something that can be done to reduce risks and it is more than disappointing that business leaders prefer not to spend relatively little on risk management even if they face spending far more on the (sometimes inevitable) crisis that follows. In this case, why did Gordon Ramsay continue to be associated with a restaurant that wasn’t working well? Was he simply dazzled by the Stars?

Leaving aside the issue that Gordon Ramsay and The London NYC failed to see this crisis coming, when a crisis blows what you say can mean the difference between protecting or damaging your reputation – for the long term.

Sitting at my MacBook Pro repeatedly Googling for a comment from Gordon Ramsay and The London NYC in response to being stripped of its Michelin Stars (nothing yet), I found a statement from The London NYC this July commenting on rumours that its two Gordon Ramsay restaurants were to close this September. The statement was given by The London NYC to Grub Street (a New York food news magazine) in July and has re-emerged in today’s UK’s Caterer and Hotelkeeper newsletter:

“We are currently engaged in ongoing negotiations with Local 6 [the hotel, restaurant, club and bartender employees union] regarding the renewal of the Gordon Ramsay Union contract. Hotel management and Union leadership have been working diligently to come to an amicable agreement. As a courtesy to our teams and the Union, we need to allow conversations to continue uninterrupted. It would be premature for us to provide information at this time, however we are confident we will be able to release a detailed update by end of this week or very early next week. We greatly appreciate your interest and look forward to sharing updates with you in an expeditious manner.”

It doesn’t say much, does it – because it can’t. As with almost every statement put out immediately after a crisis has blown, there is nothing much that can be said – because it is not known and speculating is never acceptable. But, you can – and must – say something that demonstrates a concern, a priority, a context, an emphasis, a respect for others caught up in the crisis with you – and that you are taking appropriate action. In reality, this statement – though it was given seemingly reluctantly and a little late – says rather a lot.

Now all that is needed is for both The London NYC and Gordon Ramsay to say something about their massive loss of two Michelin Stars. To minimise the damage to their worldwide reputations, they  must communicate.

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Nigella Lawson’s personal crisis affects her professional reputation

Nigella Lawson’s personal crisis is a stark reminder that businesses of all types – restaurants; food businesses; charities; companies; governments; cookery book writers, television chefs and cooks – can be affected by crises triggered by personal actions or inactions, at work or away from it. We have seen this with Antony Worrall Thompson (a shoplifting drama); Gordon Ramsay (public tiffs and rifts with his father in law, numerous other allegations about his private life); and, away from the kitchen, Chris Huhne ex-MP (and those pesky points that should have been added to his driving license).

The problem with Nigella’s crisis, however, is that she has said and done nothing to demonstrate that she is concerned about her professional reputation, and nothing to demonstrate she is in control of it. A prolific Tweeter for professional reasons, her Twitter stream ended on 15th June – the crisis broke the next day. She abandoned her Facebook comments at the same time. If you usually publicise your every mouthful, or whatever is the equivalent in other businesses, the absence of information can be very vocal.

I’m on record, in this blog and on BBC World Have Your Say, for defending people whose behaviour in a crisis has been found wanting – such as Tony Hayward’s many gaffes during the BP Deepwater Horizon drama – but only as an explanation of their inappropriate behaviour; not as an excuse for it. Nigella has reasons for staying silent and might be hugely uncomfortable with being noisy about what is, to her, her private life. But, with a profile that projects her as a domestic goddess, albeit one with the same normal traits as the rest of we ordinary domestic non-goddesses (sneaking into the fridge at midnight, taking short cuts with recipes, yo-yo weight loss and gain), being caught-out for being caught-up in a rather odd earthly relationship needs explanation.

Crises throw us off our guard. They pose situations alien to our daily lives and make us struggle to know how to cope with them. Adrenaline flows and, as anyone with a rudimentary knowledge of biology knows, it’s the fight or flight stress hormone. To protect her brand, Nigella should be fighting; instead, she has flown.

In a crisis, it is only possible to fight if you know what to do. Any business – and Nigella is a brand and a brand is a business – needs a crisis management plan – a working, dynamic, looked-at-regularly and regularly-revised protocol detailing what might happen to threaten or damage a reputation and how to deal with it. Thinking the unthinkable, and planning for it, is what those plans must do. Nigella might not have been able to predict that her husband’s volatile and offensive behaviour would play out as it did at a table outside Scott’s, but she did know about his temper and how she normally responds – she’s quoted as saying, “I’ll go quiet when he explodes, and then I am a nest of horrible festeringness”. We saw, from those graphic photos, that she went quiet when he had his hand around her throat, and his thumb up her nose, and presumably she is now in a nest of horrible festeringness. In a crisis, people need to behave appropriately to that crisis; there will be options but staying quiet and festering is seldom the right thing to do.

As a human being caught up in her own domestic, it is understandably hard to know what to do for the best. There is best for oneself in private, and best for one’s reputation. Nigella can afford good advice; she is also at the mercy of well-meaning but potentially bad advice. Turning to friends and family for moral support is essential – but it is inevitably insular. Family and friends cannot be objective about, or fully understand, the impact on a professional reputation. What Nigella doesn’t seem to have is good, professional advice about how to protect her brand. Inevitably caught up in the emotion of it all, it is hard to think on one’s feet, alone, and get it right.

Meanwhile, Charles Saatchi has been thinking on his feet – and using them. Famous for being reclusive, since the incident he’s been out and about extremely publicly. What’s more, he’s equally famous – because Nigella told us so – for not liking “proper food”.  The man who would rather be hidden, and prefers a bowl of cereal than anything Nigella might cook up, has been back to Scott’s – and been happy to be seen going back to Scott’s – where the food is decidedly proper – and seeking out or having delivered, gourmet food. What is he saying? Is it “I like the way you cook really, please come back”? Or “I can live without you, and dine just as well thank you very much”? Or is he simply being seen to be doing normal things – after behaving so utterly abnormally with his wife and in public – to salvage what he can of his reputation? He also took control, to the extent he could, by voluntarily accepting a police caution for assault. He was right to say it was a way of stopping the crisis from hanging over them and it could have been – if it hadn’t been one-sided. It would not have been right to start a tit-for-tat discussion; it would have been right, as possessions move in and out of various houses in London, to quell the speculation with facts. Nigella, as is the case for any business, needs to say something to protect her own and her brand’s reputation – and soon.

And what of Scott’s – inadvertently tied up with Nigella’s crisis? Staying silent was – unusually and exceptionally – the right thing for Scott’s to do.

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When personal crises impact on business

Four crises running in the news demonstrate the conflicts that can arise when the trigger is personal but the impact is on the business. Steve Jobs is taking a back seat at Apple because of his ill-health; Alan Johnson has resigned as shadow chancellor of the exchequer for personal reasons; Andy Coulson has at last resigned as the prime minister’s chief spokesperson; and David Cameron, whose disabled son Ivan died last year, has become embroiled in a local case of a mother who needs more help to look after her profoundly disabled child. Each of these raises different issues – and has different impacts – but the crisis is the same; it’s personal.

Can Apple remain rosy?

Any business that relies heavily on its chief executive, or any one individual, for its reputation is in a extremely dangerous position. As its business innovator, and charismatic spokesperson, Steve Jobs is inextricably tied to the Apple logo just as Richard Branson is synonymous with Virgin. When Jobs or Branson become the story, their brand and its reputation are bound to be implicated – for better or worse.

In the case of Jobs, with long-standing serious health problems, Apple has been lucky that the effect of his absences has been small and relatively short-lived dips in it share price. But what might happen if he can’t come back to the job? While Apple has said that its product line is secure for the next two to three years, what will happen after that? Will it cease to be as innovative – simply churning out the same products while others make advances?  Will it lose cachet – with Apple products no longer the must-haves people queue for even in countries not used to queueing? Will it become just another technology company, no longer ahead of the pack?

Every business needs to have an exit strategy. For small businesses, that might be to build a business that is strong enough to sell when the owner wants to retire and at a price that protects, or enhances, the owner’s lifestyle. For serial entrepreneurs, it might be to create a business ripe for takeover after a few years, leaving its owner free and well-funded enough to start up another venture to sell. For Apple, the need is for shareholders to continue to provide the cash it needs to innovate and grow so it can at least retain its market share – and for fans like me to continue to want to buy its new products. To do this it must have plans for how Steve Jobs will be replaced whenever he leaves, and it could be sooner than anyone wants.

The issue, for the moment, is whether Apple should have said what those plans are – to reassure investors. The rule book says yes – and I would counsel any business to follow best practice. But Apple has never played by the rules and, for the most part, investors and fans indulge it in its above-it-all approach. It is taking a gamble – but, provided it has a big announcement up its sleeve for when Steve Jobs disappears for good, saying nothing now could well pay off. Just don’t risk it yourself – unless your business is an international phenomenon in a class of its own.

Alan Johnson leaves in mist

Fortunately for Alan Johnson, the story of his resignation very quickly became the story of a potential clash, or rivalry, between Ed Balls and Ed Miliband. But, between his leaving and the political hacks rising, there was a gap long enough for the media to want to fill it.

By not explaining the reason for his resignation, Johnson has given the story longer legs. In the absence of authoritative information from him when he resigned, the media has dug around and found plenty to fill its empty pages (apparently an affair between his wife and his protection officer). And the pages might not read as Mr Johnson wishes.

He will, at some point, have to make a statement – whether to correct, clarify or confirm the speculation. He should have taken control of the story and told it like it is, getting it over and done with at the point of his resignation (not unreasonably, simultaneously asking the press to respect his and his wife’s privacy while they sort things out). Instead he is now on the back foot (and very lucky that Balls and Miliband are providing a distraction).

Andy Coulson exits under a cloud

“… when the spokesman needs a spokesman, it’s time to move on.” At last, some common sense from the supposedly media savvy Andy Coulson who has been under attack almost from the start of his sojourn at 10 Downing Street. Whether he did know about phone-hacking at the News of the World when he was its editor is not for me to say – though if he didn’t know, surely he wasn’t on the pulse of what was going on at his own paper. And, if he did know …

Regardless, this issue is about when to resign if you are under personal attack: almost always, it should be immediately and without equivocation – because it is almost impossible to carry on as normal with the media sniffing away, determined to uncover something. If it turns out you did nothing wrong, you can go back with your head held high and new respect from others. But while there is any doubt in the public’s mind – and especially if the media is gunning for you – going fast is the thing to do.

It is perfectly honourable to say something like “I have done nothing wrong but, while there is an investigation, I cannot give my full attention to the job so I am stepping down for the time being”. The truthful will be reinstated with added value; the untruthful will get what they deserve. The real sin is to hang on like grim … Andy Coulson.

David Cameron accused of being too close to the subject

Today’s PR Week carries a story, driven by a former colleague of mine, about David Cameron’s fitness to see an issue objectively. Cameron has been accused of being too close to a subject and getting it wrong.

During the general election campaign he met Riven Vincent, mother of a severely disabled child, after an exchange on Mumsnet. Very recently, Vincent posted a comment on Mumsnet saying that she was thinking of putting her daughter into care as she was finding it so hard to cope with so little respite care. The brouhaha that followed centred on the government’s cuts – though there has been no reduction in the level of support Vincent has received and nor is there any threat of a reduction. Cameron has written to Vincent. My former colleague thinks he should have resisted.

Cameron’s damned if he does and damned if doesn’t. On balance, he did the right thing – he’s spoken often about his personal experiences with his son Ivan and will always be associated with issues affecting families with profoundly disabled children. If he had said nothing he’d have been accused of callousness; criticism of his policies would have escalated and he’d have lost personal credibility. More importantly, he would not have been true to himself if he had failed to respond this time – and would have been wide open to personal and professional criticism.

Being authentic is essential – though I realise not everyone in the communications industry follows this golden rule.  Yes, Cameron needs to work out a way of dealing with similar cases so he can manage the situation if it arises again which it is bound to do given that it is so emotive, but he is undeniably personally associated with the issue and cannot duck it for political expediency.

Silence is never acceptable in a crisis. It implies there is something to hide – and that implication can only damage a reputation. Unless you are Apple.

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Gordon Ramsay’s silence turns up the heat of his crisis

As the Gordon-Ramsay-sacks-his-father-in-law story continues at a racing boil, I find myself descending into deepening despair.

Since Gordon published his impetuously-written letter to his mother-in-law, Greta Hutcheson, stories have emerged claiming that he also sacked his wife’s brother (Adam Hutcheson) and nephew (Christopher Hutcheson); that his father-in-law (Chris Hutcheson) has threatened to take Ramsay to an industrial tribunal for unfair dismissal; and that father-in-law Chris has snatched Petrus from the Ramsay empire.

And, inevitably, we’ve been reminded of Gordon’s past demeanours, not only by a default jogging of our memories as is typical in a crisis.

And what has Gordon said to bring an end to this farcical family feud? Nothing, given that the statement “A spokesman for Ramsay declined to comment.” doesn’t add up to a row of cooked-to-perfection beans.

Why do people think that silence is the way to deal with a crisis?

If they see it as “dignified”, they forget that journalists need words and if you don’t provide them, someone else will – with no thought for your dignity.

If they think it will stop the story from racing away, they forget that silence allows the media to speculate, and speculate they will – giving legs not only to this story but also to those from the past.

If they think it will reduce legal or insurance risks, they forget that silence affects their reputation for the long-term – the cost of which is far greater than that of short-term compensation bills.

When people say the right things in a crisis, it builds confidence, trust and support. And that will almost certainly mean their businesses will emerge with their reputations enhanced.

The trouble with Gordon is that he seems to crave attention. If he needs to make headlines, perhaps it doesn’t matter what those headlines are as long as they keep him in the spotlight. Perhaps he doesn’t mind if his restaurant business (or anything else – his marriage?) goes bust as he’ll be in the news again.

When a business is run by a talented (and chef Ramsay is undoubtedly talented) maverick, predicting the crises that might arise is virtually impossible. But, even if his crisis management plan is full of holes, it doesn’t mean silence is the only option. If he isn’t up to speaking direct to the media (he might be in emotional turmoil, struggling to keep himself and his family together), surely someone in his extensive coterie could muster something better than the unforgivable “no comment”?

Being able to draw together a few, short, circumspect words is often all that is needed to turn a crisis round. And, being Gordon, he might even get away with using his favourite f-word – as in “I’m sorry, I really f****d up”.

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Polish air crash: risking reputations

Today’s tragedy in Russia is unprecedented. Three things strike me. First, did the Polish government anticipate that such a crisis might occur, and prepare what to do and what to say in its aftermath? Secondly, how hard it must be for the families of ordinary passengers who were killed in the crash (in this case, the crew) when so much publicity and talk is about the deaths of government and military leaders. Thirdly, the situation is instantly complicated when there are rivalries or tensions between those involved: Poland and Russia.

Russia’s Putin appeared very swiftly, the impact of the tragedy etched on his face, taking control of the investigation. Good move. Meanwhile, the Russian flight control centre was swift to condemn the crew, by which they mean the pilots, for allegedly ignoring advice to divert and land elsewhere – presumably to place the blame firmly on Poland. Not a good move.

We in the UK must, I hope, have a crisis management plan in the event of major politicians and leaders being killed at the same time. There are several occasions a year when they are gathered together – or, at least, when significant groups of them are together. And, as most of them will be significant events – the state opening of parliament, the Mansion House speech, visits from foreign heads of state, royal weddings and funerals – security will be intense and massive, reducing the risk of a catastrophe. I hope there are rules about how many of them fly together, to minimise those risks – as with the monarch who never flies in the same plane as the heir to the throne, as with the US president and vice-president who are not allowed to fly together, and as with corporates where, typically, no more than two key leaders travel together precisely to ensure that the business can be run if those leaders were to be involved or killed in an accident.

I hope whatever plan we have takes into account the need to stress that the lives of ordinary people affected by any incident matter just as much – and to keep emphasising the point. The effect on and the grief of their family and friends must be recognised.

As for allegations about the pilots ignoring instructions, it is unusual for any facts about a crash to be known so soon afterwards. Typically, the black box needs to be analysed before facts emerge. If the comments are an attempt to shift blame … tut, tut, tut. And how might it make the pilots’ family and friends feel, perhaps unnecessarily? What might it do to the relationship between Russia and Poland if the black box reveals otherwise? And how will that affect Russia’s standing in the world? It’s far too early to assume that anything is fact.

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