Persimmon chief’s meltdown shows the value of good PR advice

Comment: PRs may have to force their way in, to fight to be heard, but they must – their job is to help, not please, says Chris Blackhurst

The chief executive of the house builder came under fire over his bonus (Reuters)

We live in a fickle world. At the click of the “send” button, a reputation can be destroyed.

It used to be bad, as newspapers showed less and less respect for the “great and good”. Now, though, with social media, it is much worse. If bosses in the past were occasionally kept awake at night by the fear of what tomorrow’s headlines might bring, now it’s surprising if they get any sleep at all.

Make no mistake, personal reputation is everything. It’s what worries them, more than anything. Tarnish it, and they could be gone, never to return, their ability to earn decent money shattered. If they were hankering after an honour – and many are, although they would not admit it – that too, may have just become a pipe dream.

Then there’s their families to consider. They crave their admiration. And the same for friends and an illustrious place in the community. Suddenly, they’re not the big cheese any more, not someone, no longer able to command an adoring audience in the golf club bar.

Which is why the behaviour of Jeff Fairburn, chief executive of housebuilder Persimmon, is so perplexing.

His firm has grown exceedingly rich on the back of the government’s Help to Buy scheme. Fairburn, its head, has come into money, tonnes of it. Under a bonus arrangement, he was entitled to pick up a whopping £110m, the highest amount ever awarded at a listed company.

When news of his payday broke, a storm erupted. Such a sum was bad enough, in an age when inequality is a growing issue. But the fact it was built upon a taxpayer-funded policy made it even more unpalatable.

Persimmon’s chairman resigned because Fairburn refused to budge. Eventually, after a shareholder revolt, he agreed to take a cut, to £75m.

Then, when asked on live TV by Spencer Stokes for BBC Look North whether there were any lessons to be learned from the furore surrounding his bonus, Fairburn said it was “unfortunate” he had been asked about the payment, before walking away. That clip has now gone viral. Regard for Fairburn, and by extension the company he leads, could not be much lower.

Looking at the video over, it’s striking just how unprepared Fairburn seems. He appears genuinely taken aback that anyone would pose such a question. He turns to his accompanying PR assistant but she has little to say, beyond that his pay is not what he is meant to be quizzed about.

In seconds, it is over. Fairburn cannot and will not answer, not in a coherent, meaningful way. Over too, is Fairburn’s reputation. It can only be a matter of time, surely, before he departs, his career in the limelight effectively ended.

For what? For failing to appreciate that the size of his bonus might prompt a query from left field, when he is least expecting it.

Either Fairburn is in receipt of terrible PR advice, or he simply refuses to believe it.

There’s a possibility it could be a combination of the two, that the kingpin of housing is surrounded by yes men, who tell him only what he wants to hear. That’s what did it for Sir Philip Green over the BHS debacle. He was advised he was not obliged to plug the chain’s pension deficit, and no one pointed out, “hang on, PG, it isn’t to do with obeying the law but doing what is right and decent.”

Generally, those that get to the very top in corporate life have high EQs – their empathy quotient, their ability to read people and get under their skins is strong. They know how to lead, to inspire, to cajole. They realise what buttons to press, when to move in, or to pull back.

However, they can exist in a C-suite bubble, where their word goes, exposure to the outside world is small and filtered for them by their teams. As time goes on, some become increasingly detached from reality, unable to see how others may see them, believing in their own infallibility.

The chances of Fairburn being confronted with a camera rolling was high. He should have been taken through a short script that would not spark instant fury and ridicule

Sometimes, though, they do something or don’t do something that is bound to arouse hostility, that has the ability to turn into a major crisis if it goes unchecked. Then, it’s not the job of their communications adviser to tell them not to do it – they can at least make their feelings known – but to detail the consequences of going ahead.

They may have to force their way in, to fight to be heard, but they must. Their job is to help not please, and that means looking to say what the boss has not heard before or does not wish to hear.

In Fairburn’s case, the chances of him being confronted with a camera rolling was high. He should have been taken through a short script that would not spark instant fury and ridicule. That should have been along the lines of, “yes, it’s a large amount of money, but it means I can do something dear to my heart, which is to ensure some of it is used to assist those less well-off.”

If that advice was given and he ignored it, then more fool him. If it wasn’t, he needs a new PR adviser.

Fairburn should act as a warning to others. Find a PR who knows their stuff, who tells you how it is, who seeks to help and not please, and listen to them – before it is too late.

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