Every Friday morning a busy young accountant of my acquaintance on the Leopardstown Industrial Estate anxiously waits for that defining moment which will determine the course of his working day. His anxiety has nothing to do with missing invoices, that overdue cheque from XYZ Ltd or the paper chase of the annual audit. Rather has a member of staff entrusted with the onerous responsibility of supplying the Friday treat of a chocolate Kimberley for the office tea break discharged the implicit duty and will one of those chocolate-encrusted darlings nestle alongside his cup and saucer? The tactile uncertainty is excruciating , The expectation, if fulfilled, delightful, leading to thoughts of a certain employee having definite management potential. The arrival of a bland digestive brings acute disappointment, prompting a cursory spot check to see if the glass ceiling is still in place. The chocolate Kimberley it seems can be a potent force in office politics, around it careers may flourish or perish.
Such is the wicked popular appeal of the magical nibble that variations of the above take place in workplaces and homes throughout the country, much to the satisfaction of biscuit manufacturers W & R Jacob. The company, now owned by French dairy products and drinks group Danone, controls the Irish biscuit market claiming a market share of around 50 per cent. Jacob's this week announced that like a springy Kimberley it bounced back to profitability last year, generating pre-tax profits of £655,000 after losses of £2.7 million the previous year. The whopping loss in 1996 was due to exceptional £3.3 million spending on a three-year restructuring programme. Biscuit sales increased 5 per cent to £88.5 million.
The plain variety of Kimberley remains Jacob's biggest-selling line but the chocolate version continues to be a volume seller, accounting for around 11 per cent of sales. The product is also performing well in the UK and France. and the Dutch market is now being targeted. All very reassuring but, in the invoice-dominated world of a Leopardstown accounts department, not so reassuring as the presence of just one of those black and orange packets on a certain saucer.
