mistakes. And what followed was as perfect an example of Virgin's 'branded venture capitalism' in action as you could want, and also a good illustration of why it is sometimes better to follow a pioneer than be a pioneer.
Rumours started to fly about a new entrant in the domestic airline market, and on 30 November 1999, at a press conference in Custom House Quay, Brett's backer was revealed. It was Virgin. We had kept our deal under wraps brilliantly and caught the market on the hop. A one-way fare from Brisbane to Sydney, which had cost A$150 each way, would now be less than A$100. ASX, the Australian stock exchange, went mad. A$2 billion was wiped off Qantas's stock price. Brett and I joked that if we had thought to take a hedging position on the fall in Qantas's shares, we could have already recouped our start-up costs.
We both knew that Qantas was one of the best-run airlines in the world – but they had become very cosy with their duopoly with Ansett. Virgin Blue simply had to be different. Our culture would be the point of differentiation – and no one could copy the Virgin culture.
From day one, Brett was on the lookout for people with no previous airline experience. The advertising for Virgin Blue was along the lines of: 'If you've got purple hair and you're working in a butcher's shop and you can still smile after a tough day, you're the kind of cabin crew we're looking for.' His whole approach reminded me of the tone we set for publicity at Virgin Music. It was direct, informal and genuinely informative.
And, of course, these were exactly the qualities he was looking for in his people. A genuine smile is impossible to fake for very long, and we needed people who were prepared to smile. The job of an airline cabin crew is arduous. You're standing for ten hours a day, in confined spaces, dealing with the public. At least the pilots get to sit down and don't have to face the passengers. But a cabin-crew member has to have the right spirit to deal with customers who have lost their bags, missed their flights or spilt red wine over their white sundress. On Virgin Blue, Brett and his team called his cabin staff 'guest-facing crew' and he worked hard to get their ethos right. I remember telling him once that his Virgin staff were more Virgin than anywhere else in the business. Admittedly the morning after a great party with them! I would have said the same about Virgin Atlantic staff the morning after the night before!
Once I was asked by an Australian reporter why we had decided to call our new airline Virgin Blue when the Virgin symbol was red. The fact was we'd run a competition, and some people had sent this idea in to take the mickey. Since in Australia a redhead is known as a 'bluey' we thought, Hang on, that's quite clever. Let's make our red planes Blues.
We're by no means the only company to gently mock our own brand, and the strategy is often very effective. You do need years of successful delivery before it's worth doing, but the idea is a sound one. It shows that you're comfortable with your public. Some commentators complain that Virgin's chumminess is a bit hard to take, given our global reach. On the contrary, I think the public are pretty smart. They know how big we are. They see our planes in the sky. I think the public are irritated far more by pompousness and cant, and so it's much better to make gentle jokes at your own expense than to make out you're more important than you are.
Back in March 2000, Brett was still talking about starting slowly, with only a dozen people, including director of communications and third founder, David Huttner. But the momentum took hold. By August we had 350 staff and we were ready to take to the skies. We wanted to be ready in time for the Sydney Olympics, due to start on 15 September, but we were burning through our cash. Manny Gill, the finance director, went to see Brett to tell him there was nothing left in the coffers and they couldn't afford to pay the
Rumours started to fly about a new entrant in the domestic airline market, and on 30 November 1999, at a press conference in Custom House Quay, Brett's backer was revealed. It was Virgin. We had kept our deal under wraps brilliantly and caught the market on the hop. A one-way fare from Brisbane to Sydney, which had cost A$150 each way, would now be less than A$100. ASX, the Australian stock exchange, went mad. A$2 billion was wiped off Qantas's stock price. Brett and I joked that if we had thought to take a hedging position on the fall in Qantas's shares, we could have already recouped our start-up costs.
We both knew that Qantas was one of the best-run airlines in the world – but they had become very cosy with their duopoly with Ansett. Virgin Blue simply had to be different. Our culture would be the point of differentiation – and no one could copy the Virgin culture.
From day one, Brett was on the lookout for people with no previous airline experience. The advertising for Virgin Blue was along the lines of: 'If you've got purple hair and you're working in a butcher's shop and you can still smile after a tough day, you're the kind of cabin crew we're looking for.' His whole approach reminded me of the tone we set for publicity at Virgin Music. It was direct, informal and genuinely informative.
And, of course, these were exactly the qualities he was looking for in his people. A genuine smile is impossible to fake for very long, and we needed people who were prepared to smile. The job of an airline cabin crew is arduous. You're standing for ten hours a day, in confined spaces, dealing with the public. At least the pilots get to sit down and don't have to face the passengers. But a cabin-crew member has to have the right spirit to deal with customers who have lost their bags, missed their flights or spilt red wine over their white sundress. On Virgin Blue, Brett and his team called his cabin staff 'guest-facing crew' and he worked hard to get their ethos right. I remember telling him once that his Virgin staff were more Virgin than anywhere else in the business. Admittedly the morning after a great party with them! I would have said the same about Virgin Atlantic staff the morning after the night before!
Once I was asked by an Australian reporter why we had decided to call our new airline Virgin Blue when the Virgin symbol was red. The fact was we'd run a competition, and some people had sent this idea in to take the mickey. Since in Australia a redhead is known as a 'bluey' we thought, Hang on, that's quite clever. Let's make our red planes Blues.
We're by no means the only company to gently mock our own brand, and the strategy is often very effective. You do need years of successful delivery before it's worth doing, but the idea is a sound one. It shows that you're comfortable with your public. Some commentators complain that Virgin's chumminess is a bit hard to take, given our global reach. On the contrary, I think the public are pretty smart. They know how big we are. They see our planes in the sky. I think the public are irritated far more by pompousness and cant, and so it's much better to make gentle jokes at your own expense than to make out you're more important than you are.
Back in March 2000, Brett was still talking about starting slowly, with only a dozen people, including director of communications and third founder, David Huttner. But the momentum took hold. By August we had 350 staff and we were ready to take to the skies. We wanted to be ready in time for the Sydney Olympics, due to start on 15 September, but we were burning through our cash. Manny Gill, the finance director, went to see Brett to tell him there was nothing left in the coffers and they couldn't afford to pay the
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