The Goal: A Process of Ongoing Improvement (33 page)

So I’ve done what my advisor suggested. I gathered them all together and explained that if each of them wants to be free to concentrate on his pet project the division must be well run, and in order for the division to be well run the division manager must know what he is doing. And since I, frankly, don’t have the foggiest idea of how to run a division they had better put their brains to helping me. Thus, we are going to devote the afternoons— provided of course that no special emergency comes up—to help me analyze how the division should be run.

I decide to start the meeting with the most naive questions. Initially they might think that I’ve lost all my self confidence, but I must expose to them the magnitude of the problem I’m about to face. Otherwise I’m going to end up, at best, with some fragmented, vague suggestions.

"What are the first things I should do when I assume my new position?’’ I ask them.
They look at each other, and then Bob says, "I’d start by visiting Hilton Smyth’s plant.’’
After the laughter dies, Lou says that I should first meet with my staff; "you know most of them but you’ve never worked closely with them.’’
"What is the purpose of these meetings?’’ I innocently ask. If this question had been asked under any other circumstances they would have taken it as a clear indication of a total lack of managerial knowledge. As it is they play the game.
"Basically you should do general fact finding first,’’ Lou answers.
"You know,’’ Bob adds, "like where the entrance is, where the toilets are...’’
"I do think that meeting the people is important,’’ Stacey interrupts the laughter. "Financial numbers only reveal a small fraction of the picture. You have to find out what the people think is going on. What do they see as problems? Where do we stand vis-a-vis the clients?’’
"Who has a grudge against whom?’’ Bob contributes, and then in a more serious tone. "You also have to get a sense of the local politics.’’
"And then?’’
"And then,’’ Bob continues. "I’d probably take a tour of the various production facilities, visit some of the big clients, and probably even some suppliers. You’ve got to get the full picture.’’
Maintaining my poker face I ask, "And then?’’
At last I’ve succeeded to provoke them, since both Stacey and Bob answer vehemently, "And then you’ll take it from there!’’
How easy it is to give advice when the responsibility is on someone else’s shoulders. Okay wise guys, it’s time to turn the table, and in a calm voice I say, "Yes, what you suggested just now is the usual line of action one takes when he is told to ‘go there and fix it.’ Let me play it back for you, but in a more schematic way. Where are the colored markers?’’
I grab a red marker and turn to the white board.
"The first step, as you all have pointed out, is fact finding. I hold a staff meeting and what do I find? Oh, here we find fact A,’’ and I draw a nice red circle. "And here are three somewhat smaller circles. And here is a tiny one and there are two which are overlapping. Now let’s talk with another manager, this is very helpful. You see, this circle, he claims, is not as big as we were led to believe. And here, in the left upper corner are two more biggies. Now, someone else reveals to us that some rectangles exist. We check, and yes, he’s right. Here there is one and here and here and here. We’re making progress, the picture starts to unfold.’’
What they actually see is how the white board is getting the measles. It looks like one of the drawings my kids used to bring home from kindergarten.
I don’t think they got the message, they just seem confused; so I decide to continue a little more bluntly. "It’s about time to talk with another manager, we must get a sense of the local politics. Oh, this is very interesting, there are also green circles, and even some green stars. Here’s an unidentified shape—never mind, we’ll address it later. Now, let’s tour the production facilities, visit clients, and even some suppliers. We’re bound to reveal many more interesting facts.’’ As I talk the board is filled with overlapping shapes.
"Now that we have the full picture, we can take it from here,’’ I finally conclude and put the markers down. "Well?’’
The board looks like a nightmare in Technicolor. I take a deep breath and pick up the phone to order more coffee.
Nobody says a word, not even Bob.
"Let’s make it less personal,’’ I say after a while. "Suppose that we are a committee that’s been given the ungrateful task of ‘find out what’s going on.’ How do you suggest we should start?’’
They all smile. Somehow pretending that we’re a committee makes us feel much better. "The safety of being part of a herd,’’ I think to myself; the blame will not be aimed at anyone in particular.
"Ralph, will you volunteer to describe the committee’s actions?’’
"They would probably start in the same way—fact finding. And as you so vividly demonstrated, they would end up in the same colorful ditch. But Alex, is there any other way to start? How can you do anything sensible without knowing what’s going on, without having the data?’’ Ralph is true to his profession; for him, knowing what’s going on is equivalent to having the data neatly stored in his computer files.
Bob points to the white board and chuckles, "You call this mess knowing what’s going on? Alex, come on. We all know that this nonsense of fact finding will continue until our committee runs out of ideas for gathering further facts.’’
"Or they run out of time,’’ Stacey adds with a bitter smile.
"Yes, of course,’’ Bob accepts, and turning to everybody he finishes his questions, "What do you think that we, acting as a committee, would do next? We know a committee can’t submit this mess.’’
They all laugh nervously. I’m really pleased. They’ve finally started to realize the problem that I’m facing.
"What are they going to do now?’’ Stacey muses. "They’ll probably try to arrange this monstrous pile of facts in some order.’’
"Most likely,’’ Lou agrees. "Sooner or later one of the committee members will suggest organizing the shapes according to their relative size.’’
"I don’t think so,’’ Bob disagrees. "Determining the relative size of different shapes is quite difficult. They will probably decide to organize them according to the type of shapes.’’ Lou doesn’t seem to accept this, and so Bob explains, "They can arrange the data by circles, rectangles, and stars.’’
"What are they going to do with those four arbitrary shapes?’’ Ralph asks.
"Probably they’ll be put in a class of their own, the exceptions.’’
"Yes, of course,’’ Ralph agrees. "The major reason for the constant reprogramming are those exceptions that keep popping up.’’
"No, I have a better idea,’’ Lou says stubbornly. "They’ll probably arrange them by color; in this way there will be no ambiguity. Tell you what.’’ He continues when he realizes that Bob is about to object, "Let’s arrange them first by color, within color by shape, and within each subclass we’ll arrange them by size. This way everybody will be happy.’’ Count on Lou to find an acceptable compromise.
“It’s a marvelous idea,” Ralph picks up the ball. “Now we can submit our findings in the form of tables and histograms. It will be a very impressive report, especially once I pump up the graphics package. Minimum two hundred pages, guaranteed.”
"Yes, an impressive, in-depth survey,’’ I say sarcastically. We all sit silently, absorbing the bitter lesson we’ve just taught ourselves.
"You know,’’ I say after a while, "It’s much worse than just wasting time producing useless, pompous reports. This overconcern about the ‘proper way to arrange things’ manifests itself in other harmful ways.’’
"What do you mean?’’ Lou asks me.
"I mean the merry-go-round that we’re all too familiar with; arranging the company according to product lines and then changing it according to functional capabilities—and vice versa. Deciding that the company is wasting too much money on duplicated efforts and thus moving to a more centralized mode. Ten years later, we want to encourage entrepreneurship and we move back to decentralization. Almost every big company is oscillating, every five to ten years from centralization to decentralization, and then back again.’’
"Yeah,’’ says Bob. "As a president of a company, when you don’t know what to do, when things are not going well, you can always shuffle the cards—reorganize.’’ Mockingly he continues, "That will do it! This reorganization will solve all our problems!’’
We stare at each other. If it weren’t so painfully true, we might laugh.
"Bob,’’ I say at last. "This isn’t funny. The only somewhat practical ideas I had in mind for what I should do as the new division manager were all based on reorganizing the division.’’
"Oh, no,’’ they all groan.
"O.K. then,’’ and I turn back to the white board, which is not so white any more. "What is one supposed to do with this pile of colored shapes, except to arrange them in some order? Dealing directly with the pile is obviously totally impractical. Arranging the facts according to some order, classification, must be the first step. Maybe we can proceed from there in a different way than writing reports or rearranging the company, but the first step definitely must be to put some order into the mess.’’
As I continue to look at the board, a new question starts to bother me; "In how many ways can one arrange the assembled facts?’’
"Obviously, we can arrange them by color,’’ Lou answers.
"Or by size,’’ Stacey adds.
"Or by shape.’’ Bob doesn’t give up on his suggestion.
"Any other possibilities?’’ I ask.
"Yes, of course,’’ Ralph says. "We can divide the board by an imaginary grid and arrange the shapes according to their coordinates.’’ When he sees our puzzled looks he clarifies, "It’ll give us the ability to construct many different arrangements based on the shapes’ relative position on the board.’’
"What a great idea,’’ Bob says sarcastically. "You know what, I’d rather use the dart technique—throw a dart and start arranging the shapes according to the order in which we nail ’em. All these methods have just as much meaning. At least my last suggestion offers some satisfaction.’’
"O.K. fellows,’’ I say firmly. "Bob’s last suggestion has really clarified what we’re dealing with here. We’re dealing with the fact that we haven’t got any idea of what we’re doing. If we’re just looking for some arbitrary order, and we can choose among so many possibilities, then what’s the point in putting so much effort in collecting so much data? What do we gain from it, except the ability to impress people with some thick reports or to throw the company into another reorganization in order to hide from the fact that we don’t really understand what we’re doing? This avenue of first collecting data, getting familiar with the facts, seems to lead us nowhere. It’s nothing more than an exercise in futility. Come on, we need another way to attack the issue. Any suggestions?’’
When nobody answers, I say, "Enough for today. We’ll continue tomorrow—same time, same place.’’

"Well, anybody got anything good, any breakthroughs?’’ I try to start the meeting off as cheerfully as possible. It’s not exactly how I feel; I spent the whole night tossing in my bed, searching for any opening, which I never did find.

"I think that I have one,’’ Stacey speaks up. "Not exactly a breakthrough, but...’’
"Wait,’’ says Ralph.
Ralph interrupting. That’s new.
In an apologetic tone he explains, "Before we go off on a different angle, I’d like to return to where we were yesterday. I think we were too hasty in our decision that classification of data can’t lead to something good. May I?’’
"Sure,’’ Stacey says, almost in relief.
"Well,’’ Ralph fidgets, apparently uncomfortable, "as you know, or maybe you don’t, I minored in chemistry in college. I don’t know much about it, but one story stuck in my mind. Last night I looked back at my notes from class and I think you’ll find it interesting as well. It’s a story about a remarkable Russian named Mendeleev, and it happened less than one hundred fifty years ago.’’
Noticing that he grabbed our attention, he becomes more confident. Ralph is a family man and has three little children, so he’s probably used to telling stories.
"Right from the start, in the days of ancient Greece, people postulated that underlying the phenomenal variety of materials there must be a simple set of elements from which all other substances are composed.’’
As he gets into his story his voice becomes rich with undertones.
"The Greeks naively assumed that the elements were air, earth, water and...’’
"Fire,’’ Bob completes the list.
"Correct,’’ says Ralph.
What a wasted talent. He’s a real story teller, I think to myself. Who would have suspected it?
"Since then, as you know, people have proven that earth is not a basic element but actually composed of many different more basic minerals. Air is composed of different types of gases, and even water is a composition of more basic elements, hydrogen and oxygen. The kiss of death to the naive Greece approach came at the end of the eighteenth century, when Lavoisier showed that fire is not a substance but rather a process, the process of attachment to oxygen.’’
"Over many years, out of the chemists’ mammoth work, the more basic elements emerged and by the middle of the nineteenth century, sixty-three elements had been identified. The situation actually resembled our colored board. Many circles, rectangles, stars, and other shapes, in many colors and sizes filled the area with no apparent order. A real mess.’’
"Many tried to organize the elements but no one succeeded in offering anything that was not immediately dismissed as a futile arbitrary exercise. It got to the point that most chemists gave up on the possibility of finding any generic order and concentrated their efforts on finding more hard facts regarding the combination of the elements to create other, more complicated materials.’’
"Makes sense,’’ Bob remarks. "I like practical people.’’
"Yes Bob,’’ Ralph smiles at him, "But there was one professor who claimed that in his eyes it resembled dealing with the leaves while nobody had found yet the trunk.’’
"Good point,’’ says Lou.
"So this peculiar Russian professor who, by the way, taught in Paris, decided to concentrate on revealing the underlying order governing the elements. How would you go about it?’’
"Shape is out of the question,’’ Stacey says, looking at Bob.
"Why? What do you have against shapes?’’ Bob demands.
"Out of the question,’’ she repeats. "Some of the elements are gases, some are liquids.’’
"Yeah, you’re right.’’ Being Bob he continues, "But what about color? You like colors, don’t you? Some gases have colors, like green chlorine, and we can say that the others have transparent colors.’’
"Nice try,’’ Ralph says, ignoring their apparent attempt to ridicule his story. "Unfortunately some elements do not have a decisive color. Take pure carbon, for example. It appears as black graphite, or more rarely as a sparkling diamond.’’
"I prefer diamonds,’’ Stacey jokes.
We all laugh, then responding to Ralph’s gesture I give it a try. "We probably have to look for a more numerical measure. This way we’ll be able to arrange the elements without being criticized for subjective preferences.’’
"Very good,’’ says Ralph. He’s probably mistaken us for his kids. "What do you suggest as a suitable measure?’’ he asks me.
"I didn’t take chemistry,’’ I reply, "not even as a minor. How would I know?’’ But since I don’t want to offend Ralph I continue, "Maybe something like specific gravity, electrical conductivity, or something more fancy like the number of calories absorbed or released when the element is combining with a reference element like oxygen.’’
"Not bad, not bad at all. Mendeleev took basically the same approach. He chose to use a quantitative measurement that was known for each element and which didn’t change as a function of the temperature or the state of the substance. It was the quantity known as atomic weight, which represents the ratio between the weight of one atom of the given element and the weight of one atom of the lightest element, hydrogen. This number provided Mendeleev with a unique numerical identifier for each element.’’
"Big deal,’’ Bob can’t hold himself. "Exactly as I suspected, now he could organize all the elements according to their ascending atomic weights, like soldiers in a line. But what good does it do? What practical things can possibly come out of it? Like I said, children playing with lead soldiers, pretending that they do very important work.’’
"Not so fast,’’ Ralph responds. "If Mendeleev had stopped here, I would accept your criticism, but he took it a step further. He didn’t arrange the elements in a line. He had noticed that each seventh soldier represents basically the same chemical behavior, though with increased intensity. Thus he organized the elements in a table with seven columns.
"In this way all the elements were displayed according to ascending atomic weight, and in each column you find elements with the same chemical behavior in ascending intensity. For example, in the first column of his table stood lithium, which is the lightest of all metals, and which, when put into water, becomes warm. Right below it is sodium, which when put into water, flames. Then the next one in the same column is potassium, which reacts even more violently to water. The last one is cesium which flames even in regular air.’’
"Very nice, but as I suspected it’s nothing more than child’s play. What are the practical implications?’’ Down-to-earth Bob.
"There were practical ramifications,’’ Ralph answers. "You see, when Mendeleev constructed his table, not all the elements were already found. This caused some holes in his table that he reacted to by ‘inventing’ the appropriate missing elements. His classification gave him the ability to predict their weight and other properties. You must agree that’s a real achievement.’’
"How was it accepted by the other scientists of his time?’’ I ask, curious. "Inventing new elements must have been received with some skepticism.’’
"Skepticism is an understatement. Mendeleev became the laughing stock of the entire community. Especially when his table was not as neatly arranged as I described it to you. Hydrogen was floating there above the table, not actually in any column, and some rows didn’t have one element in their seventh column, but a hodgepodge of several elements crowded into one spot.’’
"So what happened at the end?’’ Stacey impatiently asks. "Did his predictions come true?’’
"Yes,’’ says Ralph, "and with surprising accuracy. It took some years, but while he was still alive all the elements that Mendeleev predicted were found. The last of the elements that he ‘invented’ was found sixteen years later. He had predicted it would be a dark gray metal. It was. He predicted that its atomic weight would be about 72; in reality it was 72.32. Its specific gravity he thought would be about 5.5, and it was 5.47.’’
"I bet nobody laughed at him then.’’
"Certainly not. The attitude switched to admiration and his periodic table is regarded by students of chemistry today as basic as the ten commandments.’’
"I’m still not impressed,’’ my stubborn replacement says.
I feel obliged to remark, "The biggest benefit was probably the fact that due to Mendeleev’s table people didn’t have to waste time looking for more elements.’’ And turning to Bob I say "You see, the classification helped in determining, once and for all, how many elements do exist. Putting any new element in the table would have upset the clear order.’’
Ralph coughs in embarrassment, "Sorry Alex but that’s not the case. Only ten years after the table was fully accepted, several new elements were discovered, the noble gases. It turned out that the table should have been constructed to have eight columns, not seven.’’
"Just as I’ve said,’’ Bob jumps in a triumphant voice. "Even when it works you still can’t trust it.’’
"Calm down, Bob. You must admit that Ralph’s story has a lot of merit for us. I suggest that we ask ourselves what’s the difference between Mendeleev’s classification of the chemical elements and our many attempts to arrange the colored shapes in order? Why was his so powerful and ours so arbitrary?’’
"That’s just it,’’ says Ralph, "Ours were arbitrary, and his was...’’
"Was what? Not arbitrary?’’ Lou completes his sentence.
"Forget it.’’ Ralph agrees. "That’s not a serious answer. I’m just playing with words.’’
"What exactly do we mean by arbitrary, and not arbitrary?’’ I raise the question.
Since nobody answers I continue, "Actually, what are we looking for? We’re looking to arrange the facts in some order. What type of order are we seeking? An arbitrary order that we superimpose externally on the facts, or are we trying to reveal an intrinsic order, an order that already exists there?’’
"You’re absolutely right,’’ Ralph is getting excited, "Mendeleev definitely revealed an intrinsic order. He didn’t reveal the reason for that order, that had to wait for another fifty years, when the internal structure of the atoms was found, but he definitely revealed the intrinsic order. That’s why his classification was so powerful. Any other classification that just tries to superimpose some order, any order, on the given facts is useful in only one sense—it gives the ability to present the facts in a sequence, tables, or graphs. In other words, helpful in preparing useless, thick reports.
"You see,’’ he continues enthusiastically, "we, in our attempts to arrange the colored shapes, didn’t reveal any intrinsic order. Simply because in that arbitrary collection there was no intrinsic order to be revealed. That’s why all our attempts were arbitrary, all futile to the same extent.’’
"Yes, Ralph,’’ Lou says in a cold tone, "But that doesn’t mean that in other cases, where intrinsic order does exist, like in managing a division, we can’t fool ourselves in the same way. We can always procrastinate by wasting our time playing with some artificial, external order. Let’s face it, what do you think Alex and I would have done with the pile of facts that we suggested he gather. Judging by what we’ve done for so long here in the plant, probably just that—playing a lot of games with numbers and words. The question is what are we going to do differently now? Anybody got an answer?’’
Looking at Ralph sunk in his chair I say, "If we could reveal the intrinsic order of the events in the division, that would certainly be of tremendous help.’’
"Yes,’’ Lou says, "But how does one go about revealing the intrinsic order?’’
"How can one identify an intrinsic order even when he stumbles on it?’’ Bob adds.
After a while Lou says, "Probably in order to answer this question we should ask a more basic one: What provides the intrinsic order among various facts? Looking at the elements that Mendeleev had to deal with, they all seemed different. Some were metals and some gases, some yellow and some black, no two were identical. Yes, there were some that exhibited similarities, but that’s also the case for the arbitrary shapes that Alex drew on the board.’’
They continue to argue but I’m not listening any more. I’m stuck on Lou’s question, "How does one go about revealing the intrinsic order?’’ He asked it as if it were a rhetorical question, as if the obvious answer is that it is impossible. But scientists do reveal the intrinsic order of things . . . and Jonah is a scientist.
"Suppose that it is possible,’’ I break into the conversation, "suppose that a technique to reveal the intrinsic order does exist? Wouldn’t such a technique be a powerful management tool?’’
"Without a doubt,’’ says Lou. "But what’s the point in daydreaming?’’