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By Elaine Burridge

An elegant hotel in a picturesque seaside setting in Helsinki, Finland, was the venue for the annual FECC Congress last month.

Delegates soaked up the sun's rays in the gardens among the ducks and geese while discussing the main themes, namely the current business environment, implementing Reach, and the challenges and issues facing distributors.

Inside, away from the peace and calm outdoors, executives from chemical distributors and their suppliers, were grabbing cups of coffee as they made the most of the networking opportunities.

Despite the downturn and corresponding corporate cuts in travel budgets, nearly 200 delegates managed to attend the two-day event.

If there were two key words to take away from the meeting, then it would be differentiation and focus, or perhaps that should be refocus.

And, yes, although there is plenty for distribution companies to be negative about as their earnings decrease, albeit not as dramatic as their suppliers who are "going through hell at the moment", there were also positive notes.

One CEO emphasized the resilience of the chemical distributor as a business model with high diversification, flexibility and high barriers to entry.

CEOs of private equity-owned firms also spoke out in favor of their backers, trying to rebut the negative image portrayed during the crisis. Whether people were convinced about the advantages of private ownership was open to debate and not helped by the view of one speaker who said that private equity firms are destroying value and exit routes were closing.
Companies spoke too of the need to differentiate themselves, to refocus on their business model and plan for the long term, to get closer to customers, and to act in a sustainable and responsible manner.

As if the worst economic crisis in decades was not enough to cope with, distributors are having also to grapple with Reach (as is everybody at the moment) and forming substance information exchange forums (SIEFs) while time marches on inexorably towards the 2010 deadline. Add to this industry consolidation and migration, transport issues, drastic cuts in credit insurance cover and tightening credit lines, to name but a few.

And in the background is an ongoing antitrust investigation which kicked off in France and Germany in April, 2007, and which still lingers like a bad smell.

So, here's to next year's event in Barcelona, Spain, where hopefully the sun will shine again and the financial crisis, and perhaps the investigation, will be just another piece of corporate history. Just make sure your company survives until then.

Written by Mike Nash

Two weeks ago, the general mood at the International Fertilizer Industry Association (IFA) annual conference in Shanghai was, for me, established on day one. I was having lunch with a French fertilizer distributor, who when not moodily pushing round the food on his plate with his chopsticks, was making monosyllabic utterances about the pretty dismal state of the fertilizer market in general, and his little corner of it in particular. A few Gallic shrugs later, I'd had enough. It was a long lunch.

By the end of day 1 I was pretty miserable too. And I had two more full days of meetings like this. 

I could understand the misery. Last year, everyone was making pots of cash on the back of booming fertilizer prices, driven by high crop prices, and the mood was buoyant. Now, since the collapse in the financial markets, farmer credit has dried up, crop prices are uncertain and the fertilizer market has seen a near collapse. 2008 was already being consigned to history as a never-to-be-repeated aberration.

It was perhaps the spirit of this masochistic misery that I subconsciously allowed the rather scruffy looking man sitting behind me in a hotel coffee shop to expertly steal my wallet.  Talking with friends and colleagues afterwards, it is quite true that, looking back, you realize exactly when it happened. I remember colliding with the suspect when I got up to go to the bathroom, inadvertently hitting him with my chair.

I like to think of myself as fairly savvy. I've traveled to some pretty dodgy places for work and pleasure and this kind of thing had never happened to me before. The lobby of the Shangri La hotel was not a war zone and there were two colleagues sitting at my table. Surely they would notice anything amiss while I walked to the bathroom, leaving my jacket on my chair?

Alas no. About 10 minutes later as I got up to leave and pay the bill, I realized what had happened. It is a sickening feeling. First there's the frantic call home to the wife, waking her up in the process to ask her to cancel all the credit cards. Then there's anger - what good to him is my gym membership card or my pass at the driving range, all of which needed replacing.

Then a curious calm descends upon you. I became quite sleuth-like, asking for CCTV footage - unfortunately the cameras did not cover the exact scene of the crime. Then I retraced my steps through the lobby, looking under tables and chairs, and getting a few odd looks.

This kind of news ripples through a conference pretty quickly. And the hotel bent over backwards to help. This included commandeering the bell boy, Irwin, who accompanied me to the Shanghai police station in the hotel limo.

While much of urban China has "modernized", let's just say its police stations are stuck firmly in the 1950s. It was like a scene out of a film. The police were clearly having fun with the bell boy. Poor Irwin was patiently trying to explain what had happened, but the policeman on the reception desk kept getting up, only to be replaced by someone else. It was clear a decadent westerner losing his wallet was of little concern to them. I decided to remain patient. Any sign of antagonism would only protract the whole process several hours.

After 20 minutes I was finally allowed into an interview room. Bare white walls, bare desks, no natural light. No air con just a fan which kept blowing my passport onto the floor. There was one attempt to lighten the place up. A potted plant stood forlornly in a corner, unwatered for several days.

There followed a painstaking review of what the wallet contained and what make it was. Time and time again my passport was checked. Fortunately, my visa said businessman rather than journalist. Otherwise I'd still be there today.

Then I described the suspect, my version of events as best I could recall them. This took an hour. At no time did any policeman make eye contact, or acknowledge my presence. It was disconcerting.

Eventually, I got what I had come for. A certificate with a crime number on it so I could claim for my losses back home through insurance.

I remained stoically British to the end, I thought, and went to shake the policeman's hand, who looked totally non-plussed, but eventually offered his hand.

Then the police disappeared to input all the data onto their computers. I was left alone with Irwin, who chirpily started talking about Premier League soccer. He was a Liverpool fan, which made it bearable. God bless Irwin (later in the hotel I filled in a card saying how he had "gone the extra mile" to help a guest). He's probably head bell boy now.  

I resisted the temptation to steal a police cap from the rows upon rows of them I was passing as I left. It would have made for a nice souvenir and would have pleased my son no end.

It all certainly made the conference a little more memorable.

You've no doubt heard, but the chemical sector is in the midst of a downturn. Prices are fluctuating wildly, plants are closing - some permanently, and established market players with strong pedigrees are being wiped from existence.

For us journalists, there is no better indicator of the tough times we're facing than the dearth of invitations to exotic-sounding press junkets that we receive in our email inbox.

Not so many years ago, my colleagues and I would scrabble for the visit to that exclusive restaurant or the trip abroad to meet the executives of an up-and-coming player.

A nice perk didn't detract from our objectivity or guarantee the publication of an article, you understand, but it often helped to create a more relaxed environment for all concerned. No doubt, those being interrogated by the press felt a little more at ease too.

As well as the meals, there were the trips to China or the US - business or first class, naturally (all offers were welcome) - and days out at a rugby, soccer or cricket match. And what about the gifts left on your table at a conference: a pendrive containing a press release, a shiny new pen or a clock, perhaps?

I've heard many a tale of fantastic sounding trips in the past but thanks to cost cutting and belt tightening, those halcyon days of the 1980s and 1990s are now long gone.

It's all very well being emailed information - very helpful, in fact - but you can't beat a gaggle of journalists getting together to query the latest financial figures face to face with company execs, or asking when a plant is finally going to restart, if ever.

Clearly, the chemical sector is going through a period of change but it's a real shame, not only because the press like a good day out - but because this remains a people industry.

Nurturing relationships is essential in our profession; it's all about meeting people and establishing contacts with key figures who we can call upon for an opinion or quotable soundbite now and again. It also helps companies understand what journalists look for in a story and how best to disseminate that information.

Let's hope that cutbacks, and the increased use of webinars and conference calls, don't signal the death knell for the last remaining press events and stop these all important relationships from forming.