It was “an honour” to become chief executive of Smith & Nephew, “a company I greatly admire”, gushed Namal Nawana when he got the job last year. What he failed to mention, it turns out, is that these warm feelings were dependent on the willingness of his new employer to whack up his pay at the first opportunity. Eighteen months later, Nawana has quit because a package of up to $7m (£5.4m) a year doesn’t meet his lofty expectations.
Technically, his departure is a “by mutual agreement” affair, but the language need not detain us long. Nawana seems to have looked at what bosses in charge of similarly-sized US healthcare companies can earn – around the $15m mark – and asked for the same. When the board said no, and pointed out that UK shareholders would never wear it, Nawana declared that maybe he wouldn’t hang around. Cue an inevitable invitation to pack his bags sharpish. One can call that outcome mutually agreed, but there’s no doubt about who instigated the quarrel.
Did Nawana, an Australian who had previously worked in the US, not notice that Smith & Nephew is a UK company that pays according to UK notions of acceptable avarice? Actually, he must have realised because he made a point in interviews of mentioning how he had taken a pay cut to join.
Or perhaps he thought Smith & Nephew itself would be heading to the US via a relisting, with a remuneration rethink to follow along local lines. A corporate switch has been rumoured but Nawana would have been unwise to bet on it happening. Even mighty Unilever couldn’t persuade its shareholders to accept a re-domicile to the Netherlands.
One is left to assume that Nawana, after injecting some life into Smith & Nephew’s share price, had gambled that he could bounce the board. If so, chairman Roberto Quarta (perhaps bruised by his annual showdowns over pay at WPP in the Sir Martin Sorrell era) deserves some credit for standing firm. Nawana was on a base salary of $1.5m, with the chance to earn an estimated annual maximum of about $7m for hitting targets. If that’s not sufficient motivation to get out of bed in the morning, don’t take the job in the first place.
How corporate types fail to anticipate the bleedin’ obvious
Still on remuneration matters, it’s farewell to Marion Sears, chair of the pay committee at Persimmon, the housebuilder that caused uproar when it shovelled a £75m bonus in the direction of chief executive Jeff Fairburn, now thankfully departed.
Sears’ role in the Fairburn fiasco was actually minor. She didn’t design the idiotic uncapped incentive scheme and, by the time she became chair of the remuneration committee in December 2017, the damage had been done. She was, though, obliged to appear in front of MPs on the business select committee in June last year to try to defend the bonanza and, in that capacity, she provided a textbook example of how not to prepare for a session in front of MPs.
Fairburn himself would probably have bet his bonus on this question cropping up: what’s the average pay at Persimmon? Sears didn’t know or, rather, hadn’t looked up the figure in advance. Cue incredulity on the part of MPs and an easy clip for the evening TV news to confirm the impression of directors living in a bubble.
It’s astonishing how often corporate types fail to anticipate the bleedin’ obvious. Peter Fankhauser, the man on the bridge when Thomas Cook sank, flapped ineffectually last week when asked if he would be paying back any of his bonuses.
At least Manny Fontenla-Novoa, Fankhauser’s predecessor and an upcoming witness on Wednesday, cannot enter the same “I’ll think about it” plea. He earned £17m in eight years and left in 2011 when the tour operator was on the brink of collapse the first time. He’s had plenty of time to think, and ample warning.
Gender pay reporting should include SMEs
Andy Haldane, the Bank of England’s chief economist, makes a fair point. Gender pay reporting should be extended to companies employing more than 30 people, instead of being confined to those with more than 250 staff.
Small and mid-sized companies may groan at the idea of more bureaucracy, but they shouldn’t. First, crunching the numbers isn’t difficult. Second, if the overall data is to be useful to policymakers, it should be comprehensive. Haldane estimates that the current reporting requirement covers only 40% of the UK working population in the private sector. Third, self-examination is worthwhile: why wouldn’t you want to know your own pay gap?