Skill Arbitrage Blog

This article is for Indian freelancers who want to turn brand crises into selling points — and career-defining opportunities. You’ll learn why most crisis management strategies backfire and how to reframe a PR disaster into a trust-building moment. By the end, you’ll know how to position yourself as the go-to strategist who doesn’t just put out fires but turns them into fuel for long-term brand authority.

Previously on Industry Authority…

We saw Raghunandan convincing B2B decision-makers that newsletters aren’t just another marketing expense but a core business necessity and flip the conversation, positioning newsletters as an irreplaceable asset that builds authority, nurtures leads, and drives long-term ROI.

But what happens when brand authority is suddenly challenged? What happens when Raghunandan and Parvathishankar are forced to protect Meera’s brand from a brand-damaging crisis?

(Continued…)

“Raghunandan, wake up! Meera’s in trouble!”

Swathi’s voice was sharp, laced with panic. She was shaking him hard.

He groaned, rubbing his eyes. “What? What happened?” 

Swathi and Raghunandan had just married just last month, and Raghunandan wasn’t yet used to being woken up deep in the night by a woman’s voice.

“She sent a weird text and told me to turn on the TV. Now she won’t pick up.”

Grumbling, he reached for the remote. The screen flickered on. Breaking News: Criminal Gang Arrested in Chennai. Warehouse Stocked with Stolen Goods.

Then the camera panned in. Tindi Twist. Meera’s brand.

Swathi gasped. “Oh God…”

Raghunandan sat up, fully awake now. His stomach twisted.

From the doorway, Parvathishankar’s voice cut in. “Well, looks like someone’s got a side hustle in organized crime.”

“Appa, not the time.”

“Relax, Raghu. Even criminals get hungry.”

“This is Meera we’re talking about,” Raghunandan snapped.

Swathi was already dialing. No answer. She tried again. Still nothing.

“We need to get to her place,” Raghunandan said.

Parvathishankar stretched lazily. “A snack-related emergency. Fascinating.”

The drive was tense. Swathi kept calling, her leg bouncing anxiously. Raghunandan gripped the wheel, his mind racing. “Do you think it’s a setup?”

Swathi swallowed hard. “I don’t know. But this could destroy her.”

Parvathishankar chuckled from the backseat. “Oh, it’s a setup, alright. Just waiting for the right punchline.”

No one responded.

They reached Meera’s building. The street was dimly lit, eerily quiet. Raghunandan barely killed the engine before Swathi was out of the car, racing up the stairs.

As they reached the door, it swung open. Adityan. Calm, composed. Smug, even.

Swathi recognized him immediately. “What are you doing here?”

Adityan stepped aside. “Came to help. Meera’s got a PR nightmare.”

Raghunandan stiffened. Adityan was always there when things went south, always ready with a slick fix.

Inside, Meera sat on the couch, eyes red, face pale. The moment she saw them, she rushed to Swathi.

“Swathi, I don’t know what to do…” Her voice broke. “My brand is ruined.”

Swathi hugged her tight. “You’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out.”

Parvathishankar took a step forward, hands clasped behind his back, studying Meera for a long moment. Then he smiled. “Ah, Meera Shetty. I see your face more often than my morning newspaper.”

Meera blinked, then let out a shaky laugh. “All thanks to you, Parvathi uncle. You told me unscripted relatable reels would change everything. I listened. Turns out, people love watching me fumble with snack packets more than they love my actual snacks.”

Parvathishankar chuckled. “Good. That means they trust you.”

Her smile faltered as reality crashed back. “Yeah, well… that trust might be gone now.”

Adityan cleared his throat. “Here’s the play. We deny everything. Release a statement that Meera had no idea. Tindi Twist is built on passion. Any claims otherwise are false.”

Raghunandan and Swathi exchanged glances. It was the standard crisis playbook. Deny, redirect, move on. But was it enough?

Parvathishankar stepped forward, studying Meera like a puzzle piece he was trying to fit. “Meera, the real problem isn’t whether people think you’re guilty. It’s that the connection is already made. The more you deny, the more they dig.”

Silence.

Swathi crossed her arms. “So what’s the alternative?”

Raghunandan took a slow breath. “We don’t run from it. We own it.”

1. “Obstacle as advantage” principle

“You want to do what?” Adityan’s voice was sharp.

Raghunandan didn’t flinch. “Turn the scandal into a selling point.”

Adityan scoffed. “You don’t fix a fire by throwing gasoline on it.”

Parvathishankar chuckled. “Unless you’re making a bonfire people want to gather around.”

Meera looked up. “So we admit it?”

“More than that,” Raghunandan said. “We own it.”

Parvathishankar leaned in. “Brands that hide flaws seem dishonest. The real winners are the ones who lean in. Netflix was mocked for ditching DVDs. Now it runs Hollywood. OnePlus launched with ‘Never Settle’ because they didn’t have mass production like Samsung. Zomato turned delivery delays into memes and made people like them more.”

Swathi frowned. “But this isn’t slow delivery. This is criminals hoarding our snacks.”

“Exactly,” Raghunandan said. “We don’t just acknowledge it. We use it to take a stand. We frame the brand as the opposite of what they represent.”

Meera hesitated. “And what do we stand for?”

Silence. Then, Parvathishankar smiled.

“That’s the story we need to tell.”

Adityan leans back, smirking. “This is garbage. Hear me out.”

He spreads his hands, slipping into full pitch mode. “Meera, in a sleek backdrop. Simple, stylish. Camera zooms in. Her voice steady, emotional. ‘I want to make something clear. I had no idea what was happening behind the scenes. Tindi Twist is built on love, passion, and hard work. We will not be defined by rumors.’”

He gestures, the director in him taking over. “Music swells. Cut to shots of her with employees, families, maybe a food bank visit. We drown the scandal in charity and commitment. The public sees Meera as the victim. In a week, it’s buried.”

He leans back, satisfied. “Foolproof.”

Raghunandan folds his arms. “No.” His voice is steady. “Appa’s right.” He steps forward, eyes sharp. “Now imagine this.”

“Meera, not in a polished set, but in the Tindi Twist factory. No script. No perfect smile. Just her. ‘I know people are questioning Tindi Twist. I get it. But I built this brand with integrity. This scandal is ugly, but I’m not running. I’m facing it head-on.’”

His hands sketch the vision. “Music starts soft. Melancholy guitar. Cuts to Meera with her team, testing new products, laughing with employees, and engaging with customers. She’s not a victim. She’s a fighter. We don’t bury the scandal. We own it. We reframe it. Adversity breeds strength. Tindi Twist becomes a symbol of resilience.”

Silence. The room hangs between two visions.

Then Parvathishankar’s voice cuts through. “You’re both morons.”

They turn.

He laughs. “Obstacle. Advantage. New product? ‘We can tailor it for you.’ Not in stores? ‘Exclusive, for tastemakers.’ And if criminals are eating it?” He raises an eyebrow.

“What do you say?”

“Tastes criminally good,” Raghunandan supplied.

2. Three sales-killing mistakes writers make

Adityan crossed his arms. “This is madness. You’re saying we take the worst thing that’s happened to this brand and put it on a billboard?”

Parvathishankar didn’t blink. “I’m saying we don’t lie. The worst thing a brand can do is pretend it’s something it’s not.”

He raised a finger. “Which brings us to the three mistakes that kill sales.”

Adityan sighed. “Of course, there are three.”

Overpromising

Parvathishankar paced. “The moment you say you’re ‘the best,’ people stop believing you. Best means nothing. It’s what every failing brand claims before disappearing.”

Meera nodded slowly. “So we don’t say we’re the best?”

“We say we’re real,” Raghunandan said. “People trust brands that own their flaws. If we try too hard to look perfect, we’ll look fake.”

Avoiding the obvious

Parvathishankar turned to Meera. “If we pretend this never happened, what will people remember?”

Meera exhaled. “That it happened.”

“Exactly,” he said. “Avoiding the obvious doesn’t erase it. It amplifies it.”

Adityan rubbed his temples. “Fine. What’s the third mistake?”

Selling features instead of stories

Parvathishankar smiled. “People don’t buy because of a list of features. They buy because they feel something. Struggle is more compelling than success.”

Meera’s eyes flickered with understanding. “So we don’t just defend the brand. We tell a story they can’t ignore.”

Swathi grinned. “Now that’s a campaign I want to see.”

Parvathishankar’s eyes moved from Raghunandan to Meera and locked on Adityan. “You don’t hide. You don’t bury it. You frame the story. A criminal wants what’s rare, hard to get. That’s what you’ve got – exclusivity. Not just for the good guys, but for anyone who craves something valuable.”

3. Two classic crisis responses and why they make things worse

Adityan leaned back. “Alright, so ignoring the scandal is a bad move. But that doesn’t mean we have to shine a spotlight on it either.”

Parvathishankar chuckled. “Ah, the classic mistake. You think you have two options. Hide the flaw or bury it under good press.”

Adityan raised an eyebrow. “And?”

Parvathishankar lifted two fingers. “Two strategies. Two failures.”

Hiding the flaw

“If we don’t address it, people will forget,” Adityan said.

Parvathishankar shook his head. “No. If we don’t address it, people will dig deeper. Customers are detectives. The moment something looks covered up, they assume the worst.”

Meera’s shoulders tensed. “So we just let them run wild with their assumptions?”

“We guide the narrative,” Raghunandan said. “Ignoring it means losing control of the story.”

Overshadowing the flaw

Swathi tapped her fingers on the table. “What if we flood the internet with positive press? New launches, charity work, influencer collaborations. Bury the bad news in good news.”

Parvathishankar smiled. “When someone talks too much about their strengths, what do you assume?”

Swathi frowned. “That they’re insecure.”

“Exactly. Customers don’t just see what you say. They notice what you don’t.”

Meera groaned. “So hiding is bad. Overshadowing is bad. What do we do?”

Parvathishankar leaned forward. “We make the flaw the reason to believe.”

“You take ownership of it,” Parvathishankar continued. “Tindi Twist is so unique, even criminals want it. That’s your story. You embrace the scandal. You lean into it. The more they want to know why it’s there, the more they’ll talk about you. You use the controversy to build mystique.”

4. Winning approach: Turning weaknesses into USPs

Parvathishankar tapped the table. “Hiding doesn’t work. Overshadowing doesn’t work. So what’s left?”

Meera sighed. “We own it?”

Parvathishankar smiled. “Not just own it. Flip it. The ‘Because of’ Pivot. The very reason people hesitate is the reason they should buy.”

‘Because of’ pivot: Why a brand’s flaw is the reason people should buy

Raghunandan leaned in. “Like what?”

“Bulletproof Coffee made butter in coffee a health hack. Tesla’s limited charging network made early buyers feel exclusive. The flaw isn’t an apology. It’s the badge of authenticity.”

Meera frowned. “And that works?”

Parvathishankar smirked. “People trust what doesn’t try too hard.”

When to frame a flaw as a feature vs. when to make it a rallying cry

Adityan smirked. “And if it’s just bad PR?”

Parvathishankar shrugged. “Then you don’t sell the flaw. You sell what it represents.”

Swathi’s eyes lit up. “Like Nike’s ‘athletes aren’t perfect, they’re relentless.’”

Meera exhaled. “So if my snacks ended up in a gangster’s hideout… we say they’re too addictive to resist.”

Adityan grinned. “Or the choice of rebels.”

Parvathishankar nodded. “Now you’re thinking.”

He turned to Meera. “People will remember your brand, not despite it being in a criminal hideout, but because it was there.

5. Five-step reframing framework 

Raghunandan rolled up his sleeves. “Alright. If we’re doing this, we need a plan.”

Parvathishankar nodded. “A structured reframe. Weakness into edge. Let’s go step by step.”

1. Get ahead of the conversation

Meera crossed her arms. “So we just… admit it?”

“Before they weaponize it against you,” Raghunandan said. “Control the narrative.”

Swathi pulled out her phone. “We release a statement. Not defensive. Not apologetic. Just matter-of-fact.”

Meera read aloud as she typed: ‘Did we expect our snacks to show up in a gangster’s hideout? No. Are we surprised? Also no. When you make something this addictive, it ends up in unexpected places.’

Parvathishankar smiled. “Now they’re listening.”

2. Reposition flaws as part of the brand’s identity

Adityan leaned back. “Still feels like damage control.”

“Because it is,” Meera muttered.

“No,” Raghunandan corrected. “It’s brand positioning.”

Parvathishankar nodded. “You aren’t reacting. You’re reinforcing. The same way Harley-Davidson doesn’t apologize for being loud. Or Old Monk doesn’t shy away from being an acquired taste.”

Meera smirked. “So we aren’t just snacks. We’re the snack of rule-breakers.”

Swathi grinned. “That’s more like it.”

3. Find the right buyer for the ‘flaw’ 

“Not everyone will love it,” Raghunandan said. “So who will?”

Parvathishankar sipped his coffee. “Rebels. Insomniacs. Creators who work past midnight. Hustlers who snack between deals.”

Swathi typed furiously. “New tagline: ‘The snack for the unstoppable.’”

Meera’s eyes lit up. “We lean into late nights, ambition, high-energy lifestyles…”

Adityan raised a brow. “You’re shifting from food to identity.”

Raghunandan smiled. “Exactly.”

4. Use contrast copywriting

Parvathishankar tapped the table. “So, how do we make this bigger?”

Meera thought for a moment. “We contrast. Most healthy snacks are marketed as ‘guilt-free.’ We position ours as ‘fearless fuel.’”

Swathi nodded. “Make competitors look tame. Boring. Snacks for the careful.”

Raghunandan grinned. “And ours? For the ones who take risks.”

Meera smiled through tears. “You just made every other snack feel like a lecture.”

5. Sell the struggle, not just the solution

Parvathishankar nodded. “People buy from brands they believe in. Not just products they like.”

Swathi pulled up the website draft. “New About Us section: ‘I started this brand to create snacks for people like me. The ones who don’t fit the mold. Who work late, dream big, and snack like there’s no tomorrow. If you’re one of us, welcome to the club.’”

Meera read it twice. Then she smiled.

Adityan shook Parvathishankar’s hand. “Parvathi uncle, you just turned a PR disaster into a movement.”

Parvathishankar stood, arms wide like a director. “Check this out. This isn’t fluff. It’s real. It’s raw. It’s life.”

He paced, tapping his chin. “Picture this. Meera, in the factory, looking like she just ran through a blender. Flour in her hair. Stained apron. The camera zooms in. She just stares, like she forgot her lines.”

The group chuckled. Parvathishankar raised a finger for silence.

“She clears her throat. ‘I know what you’re thinking. My snacks in a criminal lair? Did I accidentally sell Cheetos to a gang? I get it. I was shocked too.’”

He let that land, then pushed on.

“Meera wipes her brow. ‘But here’s the deal. Tindi Twist isn’t just a snack. It’s a survival snack. The kind you need when life’s got you cornered. Yeah, we’re in a scandal, but we survived it.’”

His hands moved wildly. “The camera zooms out. The factory looks like a war zone. Employees in the background. Meera grabs a bag of chips. ‘This snack got into a bad neighborhood, but it’s still standing. It’s the Rocky of snacks. Knock it down, and it just comes back stronger.’”

Laughter. Parvathishankar smirked. “Cut to Meera in the community, handing snacks to kids. ‘I’m not running from this,’ she says, shoving a snack into a kid’s hand. ‘Even criminals gotta eat, right?’”

The room howled. But he wasn’t done.

“Close-up. Meera holds a snack. ‘This isn’t just a snack,’ she says, then grins. ‘It’s got street cred.’”

Silence. Then Swathi laughed, shaking her head. “That’s ridiculous. But… I love it.”

Parvathishankar grinned, hands on his hips. “That’s how you sell a scandal.”

6. Copywriting execution: Making the weakness sell itself

The strategy was locked in. Now came the real test. Execution.

Raghunandan cracked his knuckles. “Time to put this into words.”

Meera exhaled. “Let’s just hope people buy it.”

Parvathishankar leaned back. “They won’t. Not yet. First, they need to believe it.”

1. Refining the messaging – AI meets human intuition

Swathi pulled up their AI dashboard. “Let’s see what people are already saying.”

The tool scanned customer reviews, social media comments, and direct messages. The patterns were obvious. People loved the bold flavors. The midnight snacking culture. The idea that this wasn’t just a snack. It was fuel for hustlers.

Raghunandan nodded. “We double down on what’s already working. The audience has given us the language.”

Meera frowned. “But what about the ones worried about the controversy?”

Parvathishankar smiled. “You don’t convert skeptics with arguments. You convert them with proof.”

2. Two copy angles – Storytelling vs. data-backed trust

Raghunandan tapped the table. “Two approaches. Emotion and logic.”

Swathi pulled up two ad variations.

Storytelling Angle:

• “Some snacks are made for the cautious. Ours? For the unstoppable.”
• “Every great story starts with a little rebellion. Fuel yours.”

Data-Backed Angle:

• “Nine out of ten customers say they snack on this to push through late nights.”
• “India’s fastest-growing midnight snack because sleep is optional.”

Adityan raised a brow. “The first makes you feel something. The second reassures you it’s legit.”

Meera glanced at Parvathishankar. “Which one do we run?”

He smiled. “Both.”

3. Practical execution – Website, ads, and emails

Website

• New headline: “The Snack of Rule-Breakers.”
• Subtext: “If you’re up late chasing dreams, you’re one of us.”
• Call to Action: “Join the movement.”

Ads

• One version leaned on emotion. Fast cuts of artists, coders, and founders working late, intercut with their snacks.
• The other focused on proof. Testimonials, stats, and social validation.

Emails

• First email: The brand’s new stance. “We don’t make snacks for everyone. Just the ones who don’t quit.”
• Follow-ups: Customer stories, behind-the-scenes content, and social validation.

_________________________________________________________________________

Two days later, they all convened at Meera’s house to review the situation.

As the first batch of “Tindi Twist: Tastes Criminally Good” hit social media, Meera watched the comments roll in. At first, skepticism. Then, amusement. And finally, curiosity.

She exhaled. It’s working.

Swathi squeezed her hand. “You pulled it off, Meera. You flipped the whole story.”

Meera turned to Raghunandan. “No,” she said, eyes bright for the first time that night. “We pulled it off.”

Parvathishankar, lounging in the corner, chuckled. “Crisis doesn’t build character, it reveals it.”

Meera grinned. “And apparently, it sells snacks too.”

Swathi turned to him with an uncharacteristically soft expression. “Thank you,” she said. “For her. And for me.”

Raghunandan shrugged, but Swathi saw it. The glint of pride, the quiet satisfaction.

Adityan, watching from the sidelines, shook his head. “Fine. You win this round.” He smirked. “But next time, let’s see if you can handle a scandal without a philosopher in your corner.”

Parvathishankar laughed, standing up. “Oh, I don’t handle scandals, dear boy. I just make sure they tell the right story.”

As they stepped into the night, Meera’s phone pinged. Another order, another message, another shot at redemption.

And for the first time in days, she believed.

(To be continued…)