Micheu Njiru: From competing with street hawkers to top executive

Micheu Njiru, director of Customer Excellence at KCB Bank Kenya. (Courtesy)

Micheu Njiru’s hearty laughter reverberates across the fourth floor of Kencom House where his office is located.

Behind the laughter though, is a man who juggles tasks effortlessly, like a conductor leading an orchestra with the uncanny ability to keep track of multiple things all at once and making complex ones appear simple without dropping a beat.

Mich, as friends call him, thrives well in any fast-paced environment with remarkable adaptability.

Consider a few of such assignments. He helped set up high end clothes’ shops in the early 1990s when mitumba ruled the streets. He was a marketer with a consumer goods company in the mid-1990s. He was the man behind the first call centres in the country’s fledgling telcos in the early 2000s. Mich is now the director of Customer Excellence at KCB Bank Kenya where he defies the straightjacket demeanour associated with bankers.

And there is more to Njiru’s eventful life. Having grown up in rural Tharaka Nithi (by coincidence, he share the same day and year of birth with Professor Kithure Kindiki) he loves the outdoors and the fresh out- town air.

He is an accomplished rally driver and navigator, a bungee jumper and mountaineer, having hiked Mt Kenya five times. And a father to two girls.

But let us rewind his life a little bit. It was in 1993 when Njiru, then a student at United States International University (USIU), chose to intern as a casual worker at a clothes’ shop along Moi Avenue. But there was one problem.

Those were the days when hawkers were all over the city, some selling items similar to those displayed inside the shops. “It was difficult for prospective customers to come in. We made little profits,” he recalls.

With his academic experience, Njiru came up with a research paper detailing the effects of Mitumba on the shop. In it he suggested what he thought was a solution to the hawkers’ menace.

“What if we stocked imported designer clothes? We will beat the hawkers in their own game.” The management agreed with his suggestion, albeit reluctantly. “Then one by one the customers started coming. Those who had money wanted to feel different. The money started to roll in. The plan worked,” he says.

Upon graduation in 1994, Njiru did not have to ‘tarmac’ as the shop offered him a job contract, raising his remuneration substantially from the Sh50 he used to earn hourly as an intern.

“I remember signing the contract without close scrutiny. In any case, I had transitioned from being paid through a petty cash voucher to earning ‘enough’ cash that enabled me to eat at Nairobi’s fast food joints,” he says.

Exit the clothes business and enter a marketing job with Nestle, one of the world’s largest food processing companies. Here, Njiru was in charge of the popular baby food, Cerelac. And to sell the meal to new mothers, Njiru had to know a thing or two about the baby product.

“It may sound funny I actually had to eat Cerelac. How else would I convince a mother that the product was safe for the baby? I could tell if a particular ingredient was missing,” says Njiru.

But it was while setting up the customer care desk at KenCell, Kenya’s first mobile telecommunications company that his resilience was put to the ultimate test.

Njiru had moved to the company as a marketer but someone there thought he was a good fit for customer service. “Customer service was non-existent back then. Most companies had a receptionist and a switchboard operator,” he says.

One day, he was called in for a meeting with the company directors. It was going to be his first time sitting and engaging such a high calibre of men. He was nervous and excited at the same time. He listened as others ran through their presentations. A director would nod in agreement, another would tap the table with a pen. Few showed raw feelings.

Njiru’s turn came. He gave a presentation, expecting similar reactions. He hardly remembers what he talked about but remembers the reaction of one of the directors.

“I had hoped he would receive my suggestion the same the clothes’ shop operators did some years earlier. Instead, he lit a cigarette, puffed hard and blew a cloud of snoke on my face. He told me to open my company and try my suggestions there. I was dejected,” he recalls.

Njiru did not quit but stood his ground, helping both employer and customer navigate the then ‘strange’ world of mobile telephony. He even spent countless nights in the customer care desks answering queer calls from Kenyans.

“Some would call and tell me to bark like a dog. Others would just call to tell me how bored they were and how they needed someone to talk to. Then there were those who had bought expensive phones but had no clue about how to operate them.

Rally driving scare

Away from sleek suits or fashionable African wear, Njiru’s love for life on the fast lane almost cut off his career (and his life) through a freak accident during his rallying days.

In his role as a rally navigator during one of the local rally championships in 2019, Njiru and his driver, Charles Hinga, suddenly encountered flash floods in Kajiado. The power of the floods gave the car a violent push deeper into the gully.

“We were staring at death,” says the two-time national navigator champion. “Fortunately, the car got stuck between two boulders and we managed to free ourselves.”

In his current assignment, now spanning 11 years, Njiru continues to draw from his past experiences as he helps his team “think, breathe, and act customer”. Apart from resilience, such rally exploits have taught him to be attentive to details, endurance and strict time management.

“I always tell my team to do more than the call of duty,” he says.

“My life is one big learning curve with every assignment teaching me resilience. Always strive to leave a mark whenever you serve, a mark that can be used as a benchmark by those who come after you. Be the best version of yourself.”