Café Coffee Day founder V. G. Siddhartha’s unfortunate
demise coincided with my class on “Margin of safety” in “Strategic Management
of Technology and Innovation” course at IIM Bangalore. “Create a margin of
safety” is the 8th step of the "8-steps to innovation" book I co-authored.
Siddhartha allegedly committed suicide by jumping into the Netravati river near
Mangalore. We would never know the exact reasons why Siddhartha took such an
extreme step. Given the debt situation of Café Coffee Day group, could it be
possible that Siddhartha lost track of margin of safety? And, if a seasoned
businessman like Siddhartha can overlook margin of safety, could it be the
toughest step to master?
When I discussed this question with my friend and co-author
of “8 steps to innovation”, Prof. Rishikesha Krishnan, he suggested I read the book “Failing to succeed: The story of India’s first e-commerce company” by K.
Vaitheeswaran. It turned out to be a textbook case demonstrating how difficult
it might be to internalize the principle of “margin of safety”. Let’s look at a
few anecdotes from the book which illustrate this point. But before we look at
it, let’s note that we are looking at a venture story when it hit a downward
spiral. The Indiaplaza story contains several ups and many things that the
founders should be proud of. Moreover, innovators and especially entrepreneurs
should be indebted to K. Vaitheeswaran for the candid narration of his
experience. It is so rare in the Indian context.
June 2009: "A jewellery vendor from Delhi came to our
office with a few thugs and abused me with choice expletives in front of all
staff members and threatened to beat me up physically if I did not pay up the
dues within two days."
"An apparel vendor from Surat came to the office accompanied
by a local policeman. The policeman threatened to arrest me if we didn’t settle
the dues in one week."
August 2012: "I
had stopped drawing my salary from August 2012, and worse, I had made the
mistake of using my personal credit cards to spend for the company. Every day
private collectors visited our home on behalf of credit card companies and
loudly demanded money to embarrass and shame me in front of my neighbours and
family. Then I decided to withdraw my Provident Fund (PF) because we
desperately needed money."
December 2012: "The last week of December was terrible. On 31 December 2012, New Year’s Eve, a
group of drunk people banged on our apartment door loudly and in front of my
neighbours, family and some friends abused me for non-payment of dues. I was
falling into bouts of depression and my health was taking a severe beating."
April 2013: "When this deal (a potential acquisition) fell
through, the creditors became furious. In a few days, our office was swarming
with creditors in person. An electronics merchant, during the conversation in
our office, pulled out a dagger and placed it on the table. The managing
director of a big publishing and distribution house from Delhi met me in
Bengaluru and said that he would ‘throw babies in front my car’ when I was
driving."
August 2013: "I
was standing inside the Ulsoor police station on Cambridge Road in Bangalore. I
waited to be interrogated by the inspector on a complaint filed personally
against me by a merchant."
8 December 2013: "I had quit and I was not coming back. I had nothing to show for my efforts over
fourteen years except for several court cases against me, social media abuse, being
avoided like the plague by people I knew and being branded a failure."
At one point the author says, “Whenever I read about people
taking their own lives due to financial troubles, I confess, I can understand
and sympathize with a moment of madness.”
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