The Arithmetic of Life and Death (9 page)

Before presenting her results to the managing partner and collecting her second consecutive dollar, Cecilia ran the equal opportunity numbers through her “cotton picking” model one last time:

1. Once again, ten cotton pickers picked 100 bales of cotton;
   
2. But, according to the 47/30 Rule, the top three pickers picked forty-seven bales of cotton; and
   
3. The bottom seven pickers picked fifty-three bales of cotton.
   
4. So the top three pickers produced an average of 15.667 bales each; but
   
5. The bottom seven pickers produced an average of 7.571 bales each;
   
6. So the top three pickers were still more than twice as productive (2.06 times) as the bottom seven pickers (15.667 ÷ 7.571)!
   

Later that evening, after a stimulating debate with the managing partner, an enriched but exhausted Cecilia had time to reflect on the previous few days. Although she suspected that years of additional analysis would lead her to the same controversial conclusions, she knew that she had proven nothing. But Cecilia also believed that she had learned several lessons:

1. That Rules of Thumb, like all generalities, should be applied with care;
   *
   
2. That the star system may be inferior to equalized opportunity in many cases and may help explain, for instance, the phenomenal success of the 1998 New York Yankees; but
   
3. That, even in an environment of equalized opportunity, the best still appeared to be twice as productive as the rest—excluding considerations for cost.
   

It was the true accounting of the cost of the doubly productive that would soon return to haunt Cecilia Sharpe.

P
rima donnas are atypically productive personnel who may negatively impact the performance of people around them. Cecilia Sharpe’s accounting firm recently hired such an employee. Nicknamed “the Whiz,” he was adept at all forms of accounting. He could reconcile receivables, post payables, and repair errors faster than anyone in the firm. He was a magician at math and statistics. He was even a good financial analyst, and he worked very hard. Every senior manager in Cecilia’s firm believed that the Whiz was twice as productive as any of the company’s other accountants.

Not surprisingly, the Whiz shared management’s enthusiasm for his personal performance. The center of his own universe, he had little patience for the less adept, which was everyone else. To his peers he complained about the direction
of the company, the performance of management, and the insufficiency of his compensation. To management he complained about the direction of the company, the performance of his peers, and the insufficiency of his compensation.

Over time, three of the younger accountants began to emulate the Whiz. Meanwhile, others became disenchanted with the Whiz and his growing entourage. The office became polarized. People began to talk. Morale sank. Productivity fell.

At the request of the managing partner, Cecilia looked into the problem. Naturally, she took an accountant’s view. Over the course of a number of auditing engagements, she studied the productivity of all of the firm’s accountants. She found that the Whiz really was twice as productive as the company average. But, because of divisiveness, sinking morale, and rumormongering, she also found that the productivity of everyone else in the firm, including the three young accountants, had dropped by 5 to 15 percent each.

Using Cecilia’s findings, the managing partner forecasted the firm’s net change in productivity for the coming year. Although the Whiz would be worth two man years by himself, the rest of the company would lose a total of 2.4 man years (24 employees times an average productivity loss of 10 percent each). Thus, the Whiz’s net contribution to the firm would be negative in aggregate (2.0 minus 2.4)!

Being an accountant himself, the managing partner could see little reason to pay any employee who actually reduced the overall performance of the firm. The Whiz was terminated the next day. The three young accountants were put on probation. Cecilia was assigned the responsibility of replacing the Whiz.

Cecilia eventually hired an average accountant named
Cal. Being mediocre, Cal had no ego to speak of. But he was a good listener, a good follower, a diligent worker, and a reliable volunteer. Whenever he was assigned to an engagement, the overall productivity of the team improved substantially.

Cecilia later determined not only that the overall performance of the company had been restored to its previous level but that, because of Cal’s team attitude, it had increased another 5 percent. Thus, Cal’s net contribution to the company was the equivalent of 2.2 man years (Cal’s one year plus 24 times .05) compared to a negative 0.4 for his predecessor, a net gain of 2.6 man years.

Once again, the managing partner agreed with Cecilia’s findings. He gave Cal a raise. Then, not being much of an astronomer, he made Cecilia’s top priority the formation of a new plan to improve the performance of every other accountant in the firm by a similar margin. Cecilia, however, was both better read and a devotee of “The Discovery Channel,” so she intuitively understood the cosmic nature of the problem.

From before the time of Christ until the Renaissance, it was generally believed that the sun and all of the universe revolved around planet Earth. That theory was, in fact, attributed to Ptolemy, who was the greatest mathematician of his time (circa A.D. 100) and who, to this day, remains accused of inventing trigonometry.

But the Ptolemaic Theory of the universe didn’t work, as the Polish astronomer Copernicus later proved. The Ptolemaic Theory doesn’t work in the universe of business, either. If, like the Whiz, you believe that the universe revolves around you, then your star is sure to fall.

H
ow well you do your own job is critical to your future. But it will not be the sole determinant of your success in the workplace. That is because, like it or not, there are no tasks in either business or government that are done by individuals, especially big tasks.

When Joe Bob DeNiall, Reginald’s elder son, is not studying at a nearby junior college, he is a machinist’s apprentice assigned to the Boeing 777, a large commercial airplane that has about three million parts. The amount of time it takes to manufacture a 777 is a closely guarded secret. Not even Joe Bob knows how long it takes. But if each part can be designed, manufactured, tested, packaged, shipped, uncrated, unit tested, assembled, retested, flight tested, and flight retested (it is a passenger airplane) at an average of just ten minutes per part, then it takes around
30 million minutes to build a Boeing 777. That is an estimate of 500,000 man hours, or about 250 man years.
*

If Joe Bob could do all of the work by himself, working eight hours per day for 250 days every year, then it would take him about 250 years to build one Boeing 777. But even if Joe Bob could live that long, it is unlikely that many of Boeing’s airline customers could live with Joe Bob’s delivery schedule.

On the other hand, if The Boeing Company were to assign 249 more professionals to Joe Bob’s production team, then a new 777 airplane could be produced every year. Better yet, if a total of 6,000 personnel were assigned to the team, then a 777 could be produced every two weeks or so and the airlines could be afforded the opportunity to
fly aircraft that are somewhat younger than their average traveler.

Almost all of us, especially the middle-aged and older, would prefer to fly in aircraft that were born after we were. The airlines, even most domestic carriers, are aware of our preference. Therefore, they insist on delivery schedules that are less than 250 years. Similar buy-side preferences exist in every other modern industry, although the supply side doesn’t always seem to get the hint.

Last year, after a long day on the 777 assembly floor, Joe Bob decided to try a small, new Italian restaurant on his way home. Located near the Museum of Flight, it was called the Mayfly. The owner, it turned out, was a confirmed bachelor, an entrepreneur, and a gourmet chef. In addition, he was an aspiring industrial engineer who had determined that, at eight minutes per guest, he could personally manage up to fifteen concurrent diners at an average of two hours per meal. Since fifteen customers were more than he expected to serve in the Mayfly’s early days, the restaurateur had decided to work as he lived—alone.

The moment that Joe Bob entered the Mayfly, the proprietor greeted him cordially at the door, seated him, and handed him a menu. He returned with a glass of water a few minutes later, but Joe Bob was not yet ready to place an order. Shortly thereafter, the owner returned to the table for a second time and Joe Bob selected the veal special.

While the restaurateur was making Joe Bob’s Caesar salad, a nice young couple entered the restaurant. After pausing to thank the saints for so much luck on his first day, the restaurant owner stopped making the salad, washed his hands, and then went out front to greet the new arrivals. He then seated them at a table for two by the window and
returned to the kitchen to get them each a glass of ice water. When he came back to their table, however, they weren’t quite ready to order. So he stopped by Joe Bob’s table to apologize for the slight delay, then returned to the kitchen to finish Joe Bob’s salad. But, just as he was pouring the dressing, the man at the window called into the kitchen wanting to place the couple’s order. So the restaurant owner rushed out of the kitchen with the Caesar salad, dropped it off at Joe Bob’s table, then sprinted over to the window to serve the couple.

Just then, a family of five, including a small child, appeared at the front of the restaurant. So the sole proprietor finished taking the couple’s order and hurried up front to meet the family of five. As he was seating them, Joe Bob asked for some bread and the couple by the window asked to see the wine list. Meanwhile, the father of the family of five requested a high chair and three children’s menus.

While the proprietor was running for the children’s menus, the wine list, the bread, and the high chair, four stevedores from the docks at Alki entered the restaurant looking hungry, thirsty, and large. The restaurateur, who had read neither “Streaks and the Law of Averages” (
chapter 27
) nor “Why More Things Go Wrong” (
afterword
), was caught off guard. But, being a man of action, he ran to the front of the store to greet the stevedores, who had been examining the beer list while they waited.

As soon as the four stevedores were seated, they asked for eight different microbrews and extra glasses so they could all share. At the same time, Joe Bob asked for his tea, which had not been delivered, and for his veal scallopini, which had not been started. Meanwhile, the couple asked for their bread and minestrone, and the father of
the family of five asked for water for the children and a medium-priced Chianti for himself and his wife, and a plate of antipasto for the family to munch on while they waited.