"Some people think of Innocent as a load of guys hanging out on bean bags"

Richard Reed, co-founder of Innocent Smoothies, talks fruit, innocence and a bad experience in a dog biscuit factory.

Although Richard Reed, co-founder of Innocent drinks, claims not to have dreamt of starting his own business as a kid, he does remember sitting in classrooms inventing new businesses. “I used to doodle in exercise books, coming up with names and drawing logos for imaginary businesses,” he says. And while he says he doesn’t remember consciously wanting to be a businessman, he tells familiar tales of childhood experiences.

At aged four he was selling rose water (“rose petals in water in a jam jar”) to neighbours and at seven he was washing windows for money. Then, aged 11, he hit on a lucrative scheme. “Near my gran’s there was a discount stationery shop that sold Smurf stickers for 3p each. I bought loads and sold them at school for 15p each. I haven’t made a mark-up like it since.”

And aged 16 a bad experience working a summer job in a dog biscuit factory convinced him to set up a business cutting lawns for neighbours.     

Innocent Drinks, he says, was born from friendship rather than an entrepreneurial drive.

“I wanted to start a business with mates. I wouldn’t have had the confidence or the skills to do it by myself,” he admits.

He met those co-founders, Adam Balon and Jon Wright, at Cambridge University where they worked together organising club nights. “We always talked about doing stuff and had a sense of how we worked together.”

Reed says a critical lesson for others in the Innocent success story is that the three founders share a strong set of values and principles, but have complementary skills. “The map of skills is such that where mine end Adam’s start and where Adam’s end, Jon’s start. We’d rather die than do each other’s jobs. But we care about the same principles. We really believe in getting stuff that’s delicious and pleasurable but that gives you vitality.” 

Reed says the three talk in terms of “being pulled towards” starting the business. “At its most basic my objective was to do business with my two closest friends. But it was more like a pull – this sense of wanting to do it. We never dreamt about how big it was going to be one day. It was just that we really wanted to do this thing.”

Reed says it is essential that those starting a business keep faith in their idea. “When we set it up we were 90% sure that it wasn’t going to work. Then everyone said it definitely wasn’t going to work. When you think it’s a ‘no’ and you hear ‘no’ 1,000 times, you start to think it definitely isn’t going to work. We kept going because there was the three of us. And there was part of us saying, ‘Yes, but, some people do manage it, so if not us, then who?’ That’s the positive voice people should listen for.”

Reed is adamant that the UK needs to value its entrepreneurs more. The story of his motivations for starting a business – he did it to impress a girl – highlights the way perceptions of entrepreneurs have changed. “I started Innocent to impress a girl who worked where I worked. As I was leaving to start Innocent and I told her what I was doing, she looked at me in horror and said, ‘You sound like a right Arthur Daley’. Being a businessman has gone from being Arthur Daley and Del Boy to Richard Branson, Lord Sugar and Dragons’ Den.”

But for all the positive change, Reed says still not enough people know starting a business is an option. “Business has got cooler but it is amazing how most people still think it’s not an option for them. We have this assumption that you have to work for someone else.” 

And Reed is clear that starting a business is open to all. “Being an entrepreneur is essentially about coming up with an idea and orchestrating people to do a series of things within a finite time. It is project management, but you have to think of the project. Everyone can do it. But only a small proportion will make it big. But you don’t need to make it big; just big enough to be in line with what you want out of it.”

It would help if more people left education with a better idea of what was involved in business. Too many people, says Reed, don’t have that. “Some people think of Innocent as a load of guys hanging out on bean bags or playing table tennis, occasionally making smoothies. The reality is that everyone here works their nuts off and we are ferociously on top of the detail and the data. You are not going to build a business this size without doing that stuff well.”

That understanding of what’s involved in running a business needs to be taught. “We need to teach entrepreneurship in schools. It needs to get into kids’ brains at 11 years old that it’s an option. An entrepreneur class should be compulsory. It is amazing what you learn at school compared to what you need for life and business. I send staff on training courses about how to make a presentation or how to negotiate or be personally effective. These would be great things to learn as a kid. It’s important to learn history and geography and all that, but there has to be room for personal effectiveness or time management. Why are we learning this stuff aged 30? What a wasted opportunity.”

Richard Cree is the Editor of Economia. This article originally appeared in Economia.

Innocent staff kick back, Photograph: Getty Images

Richard Cree is the Editor of Economia.

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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear