In recent years, Tupperware has seemed to epitomise the American dream. Seven decades ago, Earl Silas Tupper stumbled on the idea of using rubber seals for plastic boxes. And from those humble origins, a direct sales giant emerged, with those “Tupperware parties” selling plastic to millions of housewives. But these days those air-tight boxes come with a twist. Four decades ago, 90 per cent of the company’s sales were in the US. Now, however, 90 per cent are outside the US. Yes, you read that right: Tupperware might look as American as apple pie; its headquarters are even in Orlando, near Disneyworld.
But it is not American consumers who are now driving the group’s success, but those in Indonesia or Korea or Germany. And the company is structured accordingly. It has shifted much of its production overseas and only 1,000 of its 13,600 employees are in the US. “Our number two is English, our head of manufacturing and sourcing is Belgian, our head of human resources is German, our head of tax is Czech, one of our group presidents is a Swede, the other a Colombian,” observes Rick Goings, Tupperware CEO. “We may be based in America but not a single piece of our DNA today is that of a purely American company.”
Washington should take note. As America gears up for the 2012 election, endless rhetoric is being tossed around about what “American” business does need from Washington. Politicians have been anxiously debating, for example, what might prompt business to create American jobs or invest their estimated $2,000bn of spare cash. Pundits have asked how “American” companies will react to fiscal gridlock. And when Barack Obama recently suggested that American business should be grateful for America’s social infrastructure, it had the blogosphere buzzing.