Where is Renault?

I hate the heat. Much like Renault's indignation at being called the sickest carmaker in this country. The French carmaker hasn’t been doing too well here. And now, it has also been announced that the Logan is the least-selling car in this country.
So, the other day I dropped in at the Claridges to meet Ashish Sinha Roy, VP, communication and corporate affairs, Renault India — in short, the company’s spokesperson. It was a bright sunny day (read hot) and I was surprised when I was hurriedly ushered into the lawn. Not that I mind being out in the sun for a good reason, but a corporate meeting in the lawn, in the afternoon, in Delhi, during summer, well?
Ashish came across as a smart and pseudo-intellectual person — common Bong traits, I guess. In a blue tee and unpolished brown shoes, he gave the impression of a middle-aged man comfortable in a cushy job. Considering Renault’s poor marketing activity here, it didn’t come across as a surprise. Then there was another guy, the owner of the public relations company that works for Renault.
This guy was fat; had stained teeth; had a very shady smile and unfortunately was a Bong too. The moment I stepped into the lawn, I saw him studying my shoes and me, perhaps trying to gauge my brand equity. Suddenly Ashish asked for cigarettes and the fat guy ordered his executive to go and buy a packet. I was surprised at the “corporate” dadagiri. How can you ask an executive to do that? But one mystery was solved. I knew why they were keen on having the meeting outside.
But that’s not what I want to tell you. I want to tell you how brands are built and destroyed by seemingly insignificant actions.
After the meeting, I got into the creaking Wagon R that Renault’s PR company had got for me and asked the driver to ferry me home.
He was confused. First, he called his boss a number of times to confirm whether he could do that. Second, he went on complaining about the traffic.
It pissed me off. After a few minutes I asked him to switch on the a/c. It was boiling outside. He did but after sometime switched it off saying that the vehicle had run into reserve.
With a very funny expression on my face I asked: “Whose car is this?”
Pat came the reply: “Sir’s wife’s.”
“Who sir,” I probed.
“The fat man who runs the PR company,” he said nonchalantly.
I was satisfied. And I wonder if Mr Ghosn is too...