The cracking good weather that's been scorching the country for the last few weeks has provided a great opportunity to get stuck into some painting out in the rural community we live in.

My wife - who's much better at preparation and cutting in - has been in charge of the paint while I have been relegated to applying stain to decks and posts. As she indelicately points out, this job is harder to bugger up. We bought our last few buckets of stain at the Resene in Napier from a young woman called Blossom.

Blossom gave excellent service, was technically smart, and demonstrated great listening skills. She was also a bit irreverent and very funny. Not everyone likes this sort of service, but I love it, as did my daughters.

I've bought paint from a heap of Resene stores and whether it's Johnsonville or Ashburton, I've noticed the staff always tend this way. Teetering between charming and irreverently wacky.

Then a couple of years ago I spent some time on a board with Resene's chief executive (and founder's grandson) Nick Nightingale.

When I first met Nick I shook his hand and noted that my wife would use only his products. Nick nodded sagely then calmly advised me, with a hangman's smile, that he was in love with my wife.

Suddenly it all made sense.

Resene's brand radiates straight from the CEO, and they've successfully injected that into their staff. And unless Nick hires every single person, they've managed to systemise that intellectual property so it scales nationally.

Another New Zealand company that's got this sussed is the Lone Star Restaurant franchise. Twenty-five years ago I went to the first Lone Star in Christchurch's Manchester St. At the time New Zealand dining had gone all yuppie with nouveau cuisine and shoulder pads. The Lone Star kicked that right in the head with huge portions of dead animal, spicy Tex Mex classics and audacious service.

The waitrons were gorgeous, witty and just this side of saucy. They'd plonk down in the chair beside you, look deep into your eyes and ask you about your day.

Compared to the shoulder-pad brigade they were positively dangerous. And people loved them. Twenty-five years later they have 27 restaurants all over the country. But whichever you go to, the service you get feels a direct descendant of Manchester St.

You know that Lone Star founders Tim and James Whelan managed to articulate the considered irreverence of their original Manchester St premises and convert it to intellectual property that scales. And the way the staff inject it into their customer service, more than any advertising campaign, keeps their brand tight and their offering distinctive.

Despite the economic prosperity, tight labour market and negligible inflation, it's bloody tough right now if you are retailing products and services. Not only is it reflected in national businesses struggling, it's also reflected in real estate where retail vacancy rates are rocketing up.

There is an irony here. Retail goods and services companies are under pressure to grow and establish a chain. It's a natural objective for shareholders and likewise seems the obvious thing for a CEO to want to do.

However, it's hard to distil the essence of your culture and brand, capture it effectively as intellectual property and then have your everywhere staff emanate it. Growth can really kill a brand if you're not careful. When that happens you just become a commodity flogger - whether it's paint or pants, steaks or sweaters.

And in a world where pure commodity items are destined to lose against e-commerce, you know you will get beaten down in a price war with online retailers who don't have the overheads of 20-plus stores.

Looking at companies like Shanton, Postie Plus and Pumpkin Patch - all of whom have grown such networks - it's not clear to me what their brands stand for. When I go into their stores the staff are pleasant, but you don't get the whiff of an inspirational founder or a secret sauce.

It's too late for JK Kids, but right now the management teams at the other retail chains will be doing overtime trying to revive their businesses. If their CEOs are looking for advice about distilling culture and brand into scalable IP, they could do worse than talking to Nightingale or Whelan.

Mike "MOD" O'Donnell is a growth manager and professional director. His Twitter handle is #modsta and he's a pretty crap painter. Disclosure of interest: MOD used to sit on the MBIE Business Insight Board with Nick Nightingale. They didn't get on very well.