Krispy Kreme Doughnuts was the hottest thing going when Chief Executive Scott Livengood brought the company public in April 2000. At a time when tech stocks were tanking, Krispy Kreme offered investors something good to chew on. Sugar and flour replaced chips and software. Krispy Kreme's stock surged 76% on its first day of trading. Newly opened Krispy Kreme stores would rack up $500,000 per shop in sales the first week of doing business. Hundreds of people would line up for grand openings before the sun rose. The people now lining up at Krispy Kreme are lawyers, creditors and federal regulators. Shareholder lawsuits have piled up, the Securities and Exchange Commission is investigating its accounting practices and the company is working hard to keep creditors at bay. Krispy Kreme is in deep dough-dough. And it may get deeper still: The company tossed its initial financial reports for 2004 into the trash bin. It also warned investors not to rely on reports for fiscal 2001, '02 and '03. The Krispy Kreme experience is now a teaching tool at universities, an example to students of the pitfalls of running a franchise operation. The one-time darling of Wall Street became an orphan as analysts and investors abandoned the company. "I've not spoken to management there for six months," said one equity analyst who previously covered the firm. Still An Institution The company's future is now is the hands of turnaround specialists. Livengood left in January after 27 years with the company, 12 of those as CEO. In its last SEC filing, Krispy Kreme said it expects sales for its fiscal first quarter, which ended May 1, to total $153 million, down 17% from a year ago. It also sees a net loss. Filing bankruptcy is still an option, but the company is not expected to go away, as many franchise operations do over time. Krispy Kreme's identity is so strong that an early doughnut-making machine and sign are stored at the Smithsonian Institution. And it still uses an original and still-secret recipe bought from a French chef during the Depression. To be sure, Krispy Kreme has been through the barrel before. Founded in 1937, the company poked along as a doughnut maker in Southern states. It was acquired in 1976 by Beatrice Foods and was a flailing wholesaler until a management buyout sought to bring the company back to its roots. The new owners ripped out old drab counters and replaced them with bright, colorful seating areas. Doughnuts were made in the center of stores so people could watch and enjoy "Hot Doughnuts Now," which became known as the Krispy Kreme experience. Livengood waxed eloquently about the Krispy Kreme experience, saying it was like a trip to Grandma's house where there was always something good to eat. He'd say the company's business plan was based on a word he coined called "mythodology." "We used Joseph Campbell's interpretation of Plato's concept of the soul as a circle to begin the process of getting to the true essence of our brand," Livengood said at a conference in Los Angeles in early 2002. His plan included creating a mandala -- a circular design that represents a person's expression of values, behaviors and brand essence. By the time Livengood gave that speech, Krispy Kreme had posted more than 13 straight quarters of double-digit sales growth. Percentage growth in income had doubled or tripled in the last 10 quarters. Or so investors were led to believe. Two years later, in May 2004, the company dropped a bombshell. For its first time as a public company it lowered guidance on revenue and earnings. And Livengood threw analysts a curve when he blamed the problem mainly on a diet fad. "For several months there has been increasing consumer interest in low-carbohydrate diets, which has adversely impacted several flour-based food categories, including bread, cereal and pasta," he said at the time. John Ivankoe, an analyst at JPMorgan, questioned Livengood on the low-carb explanation. "It seems pretty disingenuous that you guys are blaming all of these problems on a diet phenomenon when doughnuts, as a food category, is not really a diet food," he said. And even if people were eating fewer low-carb foods, it didn't seem to be hurting Krispy Kreme's chief competitor, Dunkin' Donuts. Dunkin's parent company, Allied Domecq, at the time said same-store sales had risen 5.2% in the first quarter of 2004. It attributed that to product innovation and effective marketing. That included new coffee drinks and a carb-rich hot apple pie. For Krispy Kreme, it's not that its hot glazed doughnuts were getting stale. The problem, said analysts, is that Krispy Kreme grew too fast. The number of Krispy Kreme stores nearly doubled in two years, from 218 stores in 2002 to 429 in late 2004. "What happens with a lot of franchise companies, when they grow rapidly, is the new stores you add are not as good as the ones you had before and that erodes performance," said Scott Shane, author of "From Ice Cream to the Internet: Using Franchising to Drive the Growth and Profits of Your Business." Case in point was Boston Market, a former high-flying fast-food franchise that was once the darling of its day like Krispy Kreme. It ultimately filed for bankruptcy and was acquired by McDonald's. The same executive who oversaw the turnaround and sale at Boston Market, Stephen Cooper, is now chief executive at Krispy Kreme. The business model of Krispy Kreme had been similar to that of Boston Market. "Boston Market never made money at the outlet level, and when they expanded operations the problems they already had ballooned," said Shane. Marked-Up Prices Krispy Kreme had reasons to expand rapidly. About a third of its revenue was based on the sale of doughnut-making equipment and ingredients, which franchisees were required to buy. The marked-up prices were high relative to the general market, analysts said. Other franchise operations, though not all, base their business models mainly around royalty payments rather than equipment purchases. The expansion began to squeeze profit margins of franchise companies overall. Hence, though Krispy Kreme was showing strong revenue and profit growth, that wasn't the case for its franchise owners. "The core problem with Krispy Kreme was its flawed business model," said Sherry Jarrell, an assistant professor in finance and economics at Wake Forest University. She is based in Winston-Salem, N.C., where Krispy Kreme is headquartered. "In addition to the flawed financial arrangement with their franchisees, they strap their franchisees with requirements that they purchase its high-priced doughnut-making equipment and proprietary ingredients," she said. The boom in sales that new outlets experienced ultimately tapered off. And despite warnings that demand for its product was not growing at a pace to justify the rate at which Krispy Kreme was opening stores, it kept right on building. Franchise operations started showing a sales slowdown in 2003. To make up for the shortfall coming from royalty payments, according to lawsuits filed against the company, Krispy Kreme began flooding the market, expanding its strategy to sell boxed -- and cold -- doughnuts through grocery and convenience stores and gas stations. Masking A Sales Slump "It didn't take the grocery stores long to figure out that they could sell their own doughnuts for less and make a higher margin, thus drying up a significant revenue source for Krispy Kreme," said Jarrell. The core essence of Krispy Kreme had been built around its "Hot Doughnuts Now" approach. People flocked to stores when a fresh batch of glazed doughnuts was on the conveyer line. Some analysts contend that Krispy Kreme sales in grocery stores diluted the company's brand. "If the consumer experience of buying "hot doughnuts now' drove them to buy, that's no longer true if you're selling them at the supermarket," said Thomas Ranese, managing director of brand valuation at research firm Interbrand. As troubles grew, Krispy Kreme began to over-ship product orders to meet growth expectations, knowing the products would be returned. And to mask slowing same-store sales, according to lawsuits, the company began to include grocery store figures with in-store sales. In January, the company fully revealed the problems it was facing. It also acknowledged it had misled the public regarding the acquisition of some franchise operations. The adjustments will cut $6.2 million to $8.12 million from 2004 revenue. The party was long over by then. Shares of Krispy Kreme, which peaked near 50 in August 2003, now trade around 7.
Krispy Kreme Doughnuts was the hottest thing going when Chief Executive Scott Livengood brought the company public in April 2000. At a time when tech stocks were tanking, Krispy Kreme offered investors something good to chew on. Sugar and flour replaced chips and software. Krispy Kreme's stock surged 76% on its first day of trading. Newly opened Krispy Kreme stores would rack up $500,000 per shop in sales the first week of doing business. Hundreds of people would line up for grand openings before the sun rose. The people now lining up at Krispy Kreme are lawyers, creditors and federal regulators. Shareholder lawsuits have piled up, the Securities and Exchange Commission is investigating its accounting practices and the company is working hard to keep creditors at bay. Krispy Kreme is in deep dough-dough. And it may get deeper still: The company tossed its initial financial reports for 2004 into the trash bin. It also warned investors not to rely on reports for fiscal 2001, '02 and '03. The Krispy Kreme experience is now a teaching tool at universities, an example to students of the pitfalls of running a franchise operation. The one-time darling of Wall Street became an orphan as analysts and investors abandoned the company. "I've not spoken to management there for six months," said one equity analyst who previously covered the firm. Still An Institution The company's future is now is the hands of turnaround specialists. Livengood left in January after 27 years with the company, 12 of those as CEO. In its last SEC filing, Krispy Kreme said it expects sales for its fiscal first quarter, which ended May 1, to total $153 million, down 17% from a year ago. It also sees a net loss. Filing bankruptcy is still an option, but the company is not expected to go away, as many franchise operations do over time. Krispy Kreme's identity is so strong that an early doughnut-making machine and sign are stored at the Smithsonian Institution. And it still uses an original and still-secret recipe bought from a French chef during the Depression. To be sure, Krispy Kreme has been through the barrel before. Founded in 1937, the company poked along as a doughnut maker in Southern states. It was acquired in 1976 by Beatrice Foods and was a flailing wholesaler until a management buyout sought to bring the company back to its roots. The new owners ripped out old drab counters and replaced them with bright, colorful seating areas. Doughnuts were made in the center of stores so people could watch and enjoy "Hot Doughnuts Now," which became known as the Krispy Kreme experience. Livengood waxed eloquently about the Krispy Kreme experience, saying it was like a trip to Grandma's house where there was always something good to eat. He'd say the company's business plan was based on a word he coined called "mythodology." "We used Joseph Campbell's interpretation of Plato's concept of the soul as a circle to begin the process of getting to the true essence of our brand," Livengood said at a conference in Los Angeles in early 2002. His plan included creating a mandala -- a circular design that represents a person's expression of values, behaviors and brand essence. By the time Livengood gave that speech, Krispy Kreme had posted more than 13 straight quarters of double-digit sales growth. Percentage growth in income had doubled or tripled in the last 10 quarters. Or so investors were led to believe. Two years later, in May 2004, the company dropped a bombshell. For its first time as a public company it lowered guidance on revenue and earnings. And Livengood threw analysts a curve when he blamed the problem mainly on a diet fad. "For several months there has been increasing consumer interest in low-carbohydrate diets, which has adversely impacted several flour-based food categories, including bread, cereal and pasta," he said at the time. John Ivankoe, an analyst at JPMorgan, questioned Livengood on the low-carb explanation. "It seems pretty disingenuous that you guys are blaming all of these problems on a diet phenomenon when doughnuts, as a food category, is not really a diet food," he said. And even if people were eating fewer low-carb foods, it didn't seem to be hurting Krispy Kreme's chief competitor, Dunkin' Donuts. Dunkin's parent company, Allied Domecq, at the time said same-store sales had risen 5.2% in the first quarter of 2004. It attributed that to product innovation and effective marketing. That included new coffee drinks and a carb-rich hot apple pie. For Krispy Kreme, it's not that its hot glazed doughnuts were getting stale. The problem, said analysts, is that Krispy Kreme grew too fast. The number of Krispy Kreme stores nearly doubled in two years, from 218 stores in 2002 to 429 in late 2004. "What happens with a lot of franchise companies, when they grow rapidly, is the new stores you add are not as good as the ones you had before and that erodes performance," said Scott Shane, author of "From Ice Cream to the Internet: Using Franchising to Drive the Growth and Profits of Your Business." Case in point was Boston Market, a former high-flying fast-food franchise that was once the darling of its day like Krispy Kreme. It ultimately filed for bankruptcy and was acquired by McDonald's. The same executive who oversaw the turnaround and sale at Boston Market, Stephen Cooper, is now chief executive at Krispy Kreme. The business model of Krispy Kreme had been similar to that of Boston Market. "Boston Market never made money at the outlet level, and when they expanded operations the problems they already had ballooned," said Shane. Marked-Up Prices Krispy Kreme had reasons to expand rapidly. About a third of its revenue was based on the sale of doughnut-making equipment and ingredients, which franchisees were required to buy. The marked-up prices were high relative to the general market, analysts said. Other franchise operations, though not all, base their business models mainly around royalty payments rather than equipment purchases. The expansion began to squeeze profit margins of franchise companies overall. Hence, though Krispy Kreme was showing strong revenue and profit growth, that wasn't the case for its franchise owners. "The core problem with Krispy Kreme was its flawed business model," said Sherry Jarrell, an assistant professor in finance and economics at Wake Forest University. She is based in Winston-Salem, N.C., where Krispy Kreme is headquartered. "In addition to the flawed financial arrangement with their franchisees, they strap their franchisees with requirements that they purchase its high-priced doughnut-making equipment and proprietary ingredients," she said. The boom in sales that new outlets experienced ultimately tapered off. And despite warnings that demand for its product was not growing at a pace to justify the rate at which Krispy Kreme was opening stores, it kept right on building. Franchise operations started showing a sales slowdown in 2003. To make up for the shortfall coming from royalty payments, according to lawsuits filed against the company, Krispy Kreme began flooding the market, expanding its strategy to sell boxed -- and cold -- doughnuts through grocery and convenience stores and gas stations. Masking A Sales Slump "It didn't take the grocery stores long to figure out that they could sell their own doughnuts for less and make a higher margin, thus drying up a significant revenue source for Krispy Kreme," said Jarrell. The core essence of Krispy Kreme had been built around its "Hot Doughnuts Now" approach. People flocked to stores when a fresh batch of glazed doughnuts was on the conveyer line. Some analysts contend that Krispy Kreme sales in grocery stores diluted the company's brand. "If the consumer experience of buying "hot doughnuts now' drove them to buy, that's no longer true if you're selling them at the supermarket," said Thomas Ranese, managing director of brand valuation at research firm Interbrand. As troubles grew, Krispy Kreme began to over-ship product orders to meet growth expectations, knowing the products would be returned. And to mask slowing same-store sales, according to lawsuits, the company began to include grocery store figures with in-store sales. In January, the company fully revealed the problems it was facing. It also acknowledged it had misled the public regarding the acquisition of some franchise operations. The adjustments will cut $6.2 million to $8.12 million from 2004 revenue. The party was long over by then. Shares of Krispy Kreme, which peaked near 50 in August 2003, now trade around 7.
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