The Goal: a process of Ongoing Improvement

mirage!’’
he says. "What do you mean, an hour saved at a non-bottleneck
is a mirage? An hour saved is an hour saved!’’
"No, it isn’t,’’ I tell him. "Since we began withholding materials from the
floor until the bottlenecks are ready for them, the non-bottlenecks now have
idle time. It’s perfectly okay to have more setups on non-bottlenecks, because
all we’re doing is cutting into time the machines would spend being idle.
Saving setups at a non-bottleneck doesn’t make the system one bit more
productive. The time and money saved is an illusion. Even if we double the
number of setups, it won’t consume all the idle time.’’
"Okay, okay,’’ says Bob. "I guess I can see what you mean.’’
"Now Jonah said, first of all, to cut the batch sizes in half. Then he suggested
I go immediately to marketing and convince them to conduct a new campaign
which will promise customers earlier deliveries.’’
"Can we do it?’’ asks Lou.
I tell them, "Already, our lead times have condensed considerably over what
they were before thanks to the priority system and making the bottlenecks
more productive. We have reduced lead time of about three to four months
down to two months or even less. If we cut our batch sizes in half, how fast
do you think we can respond?’’
There is an eternity of hemming and hawing while this is debated.
Finally, Bob admits, "Okay, if we cut batch sizes in half, then that means it
ought to take half the time it does now. So instead of six to eight weeks, it
should take about four weeks . . . maybe even three weeks in a lot of cases.’’
"Suppose I go to marketing and tell them to promise customers deliveries in
three weeks?’’ I say.

---

"Whoa! Hold on!’’ says Bob.
"Yeah, give us a break!’’ says Stacey.
"All right, four weeks then,’’ I say. "That’s reasonable, isn’t it?’’
"Sounds reasonable to me,’’ says Ralph.
"Well... okay,’’ says Stacey.
"I think we should risk it,’’ says Lou.
"So are you willing to commit to this with us?’’ I ask Bob.
Bob sits back and says, "Well...I’m all for bigger bonuses. What the hell.
Let’s try it.’’
Friday morning finds the 
Mazda
and me again hustling up the Interstate
toward headquarters. I hit town just as the sun hits the glass of the UniCo
building and reflects a blinding glare. Kind of pretty actually. For a moment,
it takes my mind off my nerves. I’ve got a meeting scheduled with Johnny
Jons in his office. When I called, he was quite willing to see me, but sounded
less than enthusiastic about what I said I’d like to talk about. I feel there’s a
lot riding on my ability to convince him to go along with what we want to do.
So I’ve found myself biting a fingernail or two during the trip.
Jons doesn’t really have a desk in his office. He has a sheet of glass on
chrome legs. I guess that’s so that everyone can get a good look at his Gucci
loafers and silk socks—which he exposes as he leans back in this chair,
interweaves his fingers and puts them behind his head.
He says, "So... how is everything going?’’
"Everything is going very well right now,’’ I say. "In fact, that’s why I
wanted to talk to you.’’

---

Jons immediately dons an impassive face.
"All right, listen,’’ I tell him, "I’m going to lay my cards out for you. I’m not
exaggerating when I say everything is going well. It is. We’ve worked off our
backlog of overdue orders, as you know. At the beginning of last week, the
plant began producing strictly to meet projected due dates.’’
Jons nods and says, "Yes, I’ve noticed my phone hasn’t been ringing lately
with complaints from customers missing their orders.’’
"My point,’’ I tell him, "is that we’ve really turned the plant around. Here,
look at this.’’
From my breifcase, I take the latest list of customer orders. Among other
things, it shows the due dates promised, along with the dates when Ralph
expected shipment, and the dates the products were actually shipped.
"You see,’’ I tell Jons as he studies the list on the glass top of his table, "we
can predict to within twenty-four hours one way or the other when an order
will leave the plant.’’
"Yes, I’ve seen something like this floating around,’’ says Jons. "These are
the dates?’’
"Of course.’’
"This is impressive,’’ says Jons.
"As you can see by comparing a few recently shipped orders with ones of a
month or so before, our production lead times have condensed dramatically.
Four months’ lead time is no longer a holy number with us. From the day you
sign the contract with the customer to the day we ship, the current average is
about two months. Now, tell me, do you think that could help us in the
marketplace?’’
"Sure it could,’’ says Jons.

---

"Then how about 
four weeks?’’
"What? 
Al, don’t be ridiculous,’’ says Jons. "Four weeks!’’
"We can do it.’’
"Come on!’’ he says. "Last winter, when demand for every damn thing we
make was way down, we were promising delivery in four months, and it was
taking six! Now you’re telling me you can go from contract to finished
product in four weeks?’’
"I wouldn’t be here talking to you if we couldn’t,’’ I tell him, hoping
desperately that we’re right.
Jons snorts, unconvinced.
"Johnny, the truth is I need more business,’’ I tell him. "With our overdues
gone, and our current backlog declining, I’ve got to get more work into my
plant. Now we both know the business is out there; it’s just that the
competition is getting more of it than we are.’’
Jons looks at me through narrowed eyes. "You can really turn around an
order of 200 Model 12’s or 300 DBD-50’s in four weeks?’’
"Try me,’’ I tell him. "Get me five orders—hell, get me 
ten
orders—and I’ll
prove it to you.’’
"And what happens to our credibility if you can’t come through?’’ he asks.
Flustered, I look down through the glass table.
"Johnny,’’ I say, "I’ll make a bet with you. If I don’t deliver in four weeks,
I’ll buy you a brand new pair of Guccis.’’
He laughs, shakes his head and finally says, "Okay, you’re on. I’ll pass the
word to the salespeople that on all your products, we’re offering terms of
factory shipment in six weeks.’’

---

I start to protest. Jons holds up a hand.
"I know you’re confident,’’ he says. "And if you ship any new orders in less
than five weeks, I’ll buy 
you
a new pair of shoes.’’

---

29
A full moon is shining through the bedroom window and into my eyes.
The night is still. I look at the clock beside me, which says it’s 4:20 
A
.
M
. Next
to me in bed, Julie is sleeping.
Resting on my elbow, I look down at Julie. With her dark hair spilled out
on the white pillow, she looks nice sleeping in the moonlight. I watch her for
a while. I wonder what her dreams are like.
When I woke up, I was having a nightmare. It was about the plant. I was
running up and down the aisles and Bill Peach was chasing me in his crimson
Mercedes. Every time he was about to run me over, I’d duck between a
couple of machines or hop on a passing forklift. He was yelling at me from
the window about my bottom line not being good enough. Finally he trapped
me in the shipping department. I had my back against stacks of cardboard
cartons, and the Mercedes was racing toward me at a hundred miles an hour.
I tried to shield my eyes from the blinding headlights. Just as Peach was
about to get me, I woke up and discovered that the headlights were
moonbeams on my face.
Now I’m too much awake, and too aware of the problem I was trying to
forget this past evening with Julie for me to fall back to sleep. Not wanting to
awaken Julie with my restlessness, I slip out of bed.
The house is all ours tonight. We started out this evening with nothing