The Goal: a process of Ongoing Improvement

"What did you do to her?’’
yells her mother.
"Nothing!’’ I plead, feeling like a liar in the onslaught.
Then her father gets back on the phone and asks if I’ve talked to the police.
He suggests that maybe she was kidnapped. I tell him that’s highly unlikely,
because my mother saw her drive away and nobody had a gun to her head.
Finally I say, "If you hear from her, would you please have her give me a
call? I’m very worried about her.’’
An hour later, I do call the police. But, as I expected, they won’t help unless I
have some evidence that something criminal has taken place. I go and put the
kids to bed.
Sometime after midnight, I’m staring at the dark bedroom ceiling and I
hear a car turning into the driveway. I leap out of bed and run to the window.
By the time I get there, the headlights are arcing back toward the street. It’s
just a stranger turning around. The car drives away.

---

17
Monday morning is a disaster.
It starts with Davey trying to make breakfast for himself and Sharon and me.
Which is a nice, responsible thing to do, but he totally screws it up. While
I’m in the shower, he attempts pancakes. I’m midway through shaving when
I hear the fight from the kitchen. I rush down to find Dave and Sharon
pushing each other. There is a skillet on the floor with lumps of batter, black
on one side and raw on the other, splattered.
"Hey! What’s going on?’’ I shout.
"It’s all her fault!’’ yells Dave pointing at his sister.
"You were burning them!’’ Sharon says.
"I was not!’’
Smoke is fuming off the stove where something spilled. I step over to shut it
off.
Sharon appeals to me. "I was just trying to help. But he wouldn’t let me.’’
Then she turns to Dave. "Even 
I
know how to make pancakes.’’
"Okay, because both of you want to help, you can help clean up,’’ I say.
When everything is back in some semblance of order, I feed them cold cereal.
We eat another meal in silence.
With all the disruption and delay. Sharon misses her school bus. I get Davey
out the door, and go looking for her so I can drive her to school. She’s lying
down on her bed.

---

"Ready, whenever you are, Miz Rogo.’’
"I can’t go to school,’’ she says.
"Why not?’’
"I’m sick.’’
"Sharon, you have to go to school,’’ I say.
"But I’m sick!’’ she says.
I go sit down on the edge of the bed.
"I know you’re upset. I am too,’’ I tell her. "But these are facts: I have to go
to work. I can’t stay home with you, and I won’t leave you here by yourself.
You can go to your grandmother’s house for the day. Or you can go to
school.’’
She sits up. I put my arm around her.
After a minute, she says, "I guess I’ll go to school.’’
I give her a squeeze and say, "Atta way, kid. I knew you’d do the right
thing.’’
By the time I get both kids to school and myself to work, it’s past nine
o’clock. As I walk in, Fran waves a message slip at me. I grab it and read it.
It’s from Hilton Smyth, marked "urgent’’ and double underlined.
I call him. 
"Well, it’s about time,’’ says Hilton. "I tried to reach you an hour ago.’’
I roll my eyes. "What’s the problem, Hilton?’’

---

"Your people are sitting on a hundred sub-assemblies I need,’’ says Smyth.
"Hilton, we’re not sitting on anything,’’ I say.
He raises his voice. "Then why aren’t they here? I’ve got a customer order we
can’t ship because your people dropped the ball!’’
"Just give me the particulars, and I’ll have somebody look into it,’’ I tell him.
He gives some reference numbers and I write them down.
"Okay, I’ll have somebody get back to you.’’
"You’d better do more than that, pal,’’ says Hilton. "You’d better make sure
we get those sub-assemblies by the end of the day—and I mean all 100
pieces, not 87, not 99, but 
all
of them. Because I’m not going to have my
people do two setups for final assembly on account of your lateness.’’
"Look, we’ll do our best,’’ I tell him, "but I’m not going to make promises.’’
"Oh? Well, let’s just put it this way,’’ he says. "If we don’t get 100 sub-
assemblies from you today, I’m talking to Peach. And from what I hear
you’re in enough trouble with him already.’’
"Listen, 
pal,
my status with Bill Peach is none of your damn business,’’ I tell
him. "What makes you think you can threaten me?’’
The pause is so long I think he’s going to hang up on me.
Then he says, "Maybe you ought to read your mail.’’
"What do you mean by that?’’
I can hear him smiling.
"Just get me the sub-assemblies by the end of the day,’’ he says sweetly.
"Bye-bye.’’

---

I hang up.
"Weird,’’ I mumble.
I talk to Fran. She calls Bob Donovan for me and then notifies the staff that
there will be a meeting at ten o’clock. Donovan comes in and I ask him to
have an expeditor see what’s holding up the job for Smyth’s plant. Almost
gritting my teeth as I say it, I tell him to make sure the sub-assemblies go out
today. After he’s gone, I try to forget about the call, but I can’t. Finally, I go
ask Fran if anything has come in recently that mentions Hilton Smyth. She
thinks for a minute, then reaches for a folder.
"This memo just came in on Friday,’’ she says. "It looks like Mr. Smyth got a
promotion.’’
I take the memo she hands me. It’s from Bill Peach. It’s an announcement
that he’s named Smyth to the newly-created position of division productivity
manager. The appointment is effective at the end of this week. The job
description says that all plant managers will now report on a dotted line to
Smyth, who will "give special attention to manufacturing-productivity
improvement with emphasis on cost reduction.’’
And I start to sing, "Oh, what a beautiful morning. . . !’’
Whatever enthusiasm I expected from the staff with regard to my
education over the weekend... well, I don’t get it. Maybe I thought all I had to
do was walk in and open my mouth to reveal my discoveries, and they’d all
be instantly converted by the obvious rightness. But it doesn’t work that way.
We—Lou, Bob, Stacey, and Ralph Nakamura, who runs data processing for
the plant—are in the conference room. I’m standing in front next to an easel
which holds a big pad of paper, sheet after sheet of which is covered with
little diagrams I’ve drawn during my explanations. I’ve invested a couple of
hours in making those explanations. But now it’s almost time for lunch, and
they’re all just sitting there unimpressed.
Looking down the table at the faces looking back at me, I can see they

---

don’t know what to make of what I’ve told them. Okay, I think I see a faint
glimmer of understanding in Stacey’s eyes. Bob Donovan is on the fence; he
seems to have intuitively grasped some of it. Ralph is not sure what it is I’m
really saying. And Lou is frowning at me. One sympathizer, one undecided,
one bewildered, and one skeptic.
"Okay, what’s the problem?’’ I ask.
They glance at each other.
"Come on,’’ I say. "This is like I just proved two and two equals four and you
don’t believe me.’’ I look straight at Lou. "What’s the problem you’re
having?’’ 
Lou sits back and shakes his head. "I don’t know, Al. It’s just that... well,
you said how you figured this out by watching a bunch of kids on a hike in
the woods.’’
"So what’s wrong with that?’’
"Nothing. But how do you know these things are really going on out there
in the plant?’’
I flip back a few sheets on the easel until I find the one with the names of
Jonah’s two phenomena written on it.
"Look at this: do we have statistical fluctuations in our operations?’’ I ask,
pointing to the words.
"Yes, we do,’’ he says.
"And do we have dependent events in our plant?’’ I ask.
"Yes,’’ he says again.
"Then what I’ve told you has to be right,’’ I say.

---

"Now hold on a minute,’’ says Bob. "Robots don’t have statistical
fluctuations. They always work at the same pace. That’s one of the reasons
we bought the damn things—consistency. And I thought the main reason you
went to see this Jonah guy was to find out what to do about the robots.’’
"It’s okay to say that fluctuations in cycle time for a robot would be almost
flat while it was working,’’ I tell him. "But we’re not dealing just with a
robotic operation. Our other operations do have both phenomena. And,
remember, the goal isn’t to make the robots productive; it’s to make the
whole system productive. Isn’t that right, Lou?’’
"Well, Bob may have a point. We’ve got a lot of automated equipment out
there, and the process times ought to be fairly consistent,’’ says Lou.
Stacey turns to him. "But what he’s saying—’’
Just then the conference room door opens. Fred, one of our expeditors, puts
his head into the room and looks at Bob Donovan.
"May I see you for a second?’’ he asks Bob. "It’s about the job for Hilton
Smyth.’’
Bob stands up to leave the room, but I tell Fred to come in. Like it or not, I
have to be interested in what’s happening on this "crisis’’ for Hilton Smyth.
Fred explains that the job has to go through two more departments before the
sub-assemblies are complete and ready for shipment.
"Can we get them out today?’’ I ask.
"It’s going to be close, but we can try,’’ says Fred. "The truck shuttle leaves
at five o’clock.’’
The shuttle is a private trucking service that all the plants in the division use
to move parts back and forth.
"Five o’clock is the last run of the day that we can use to reach Smyth’s
plant,’’ says Bob. "If we don’t make that trip, the next shuttle won’t be until

---

tomorrow afternoon.’’
"What has to be done?’’ I ask.
"Peter Schnell’s department has to do some fabricating. Then the pieces have
to be welded,’’ says Fred. "We’re going to set up one of the robots to do the
welds.’’
"Ah, yes, the robots,’’ I say. "You think we can do it?’’
"According to the quotas, Pete’s people are supposed to give us the parts for
twenty-five units every hour,’’ says Fred. "And I know the robot is capable of
welding twenty-five units of this subassembly per hour.’’
Bob asks about moving the pieces to the robot. In a normal situation, the
pieces finished by Pete’s people probably would be moved to the robot only
once a day, or maybe not until the entire batch was finished. We can’t wait
that long. The robot has to begin its work as soon as possible.
"I’ll make arrangements to have a materials handler stop at Pete’s department
every hour on the hour,’’ says Fred.
"Okay,’’ says Bob. "How soon can Pete start?’’
Fred says, "Pete can start on the job at noon, so we’ve got five hours.’’
"You know that Pete’s people quit at four,’’ says Bob.
"Yeah, I told you it’s going to be close,’’ says Fred. "But all we can do is try.
That’s what you want, isn’t it?’’
This gives me an idea. I talk to the staff. "You people don’t really know what
to make of what I told you this morning. But if what I’ve told you is correct,
then we should be able to see the effects occurring out there on the floor. Am
I right?’’
The heads nod.

---

"And if we know that Jonah is correct, we’d be pretty stupid to continue
running the plant the same way as before—right? So I’m going to let you see
for yourselves what’s happening. You say Pete’s going to start on this at
noon?’’
"Right,’’ says Fred. "Everyone in that department is at lunch now. They went
at eleven-thirty. So they’ll start at twelve. And the robot will be set up by one
o’clock, when the materials handler will make the first transfer.’’
I take some paper and a pencil and start sketching a simple schedule.
"The output has to be one hundred pieces by five o’clock— no less than that.
Hilton says he won’t accept a partial shipment. So if we can’t do the whole
job, then I don’t want us to ship anything,’’ I say. "Now Pete’s people are
supposed to produce at the rate of twenty-five pieces per hour. But that
doesn’t mean they’ll always have twenty-five at the end of every hour.
Sometimes they’ll be a few pieces short, sometimes they’ll be a few ahead.’’
I look around; everyone is with me.
"So we’ve got statistical fluctuations going on,’’ I say. "But we’re planning
that from noon until four o’clock, Pete’s department should have averaged an
output of one hundred pieces. The robot, on the other hand, is supposed to be
more precise in its output. It will be set up to work at the rate of twenty-five
pieces per hour—no more, no less. We also have dependent events, because
the robot cannot begin its welding until the materials handler has delivered
the pieces from Pete’s department.’’
"The robot can’t start until one o’clock,’’ I say, "but by five o’clock when the
truck is ready to leave, we want to be loading the last piece into the back. So,
expressed in a diagram, this is what is supposed to happen . . .’’
I show them the finished schedule, which looks like this:

---

"Okay, I want Pete to keep a log of exactly how many parts are actually
completed by his department hour by hour,’’ I say. "And I want Fred to keep
the same type of log for the robot. And remember: no cheating. We need the
real numbers. Okay?’’ "Sure, no problem,’’ says Fred.
"By the way, do you actually think we’ll be able to ship one hundred pieces
today?’’ I ask.
"I guess it’s up to Pete,’’ says Bob. "If he says he can do it, I don’t see why
not.’’
"Tell you what,’’ I say to Bob. "I’ll bet you ten bucks we don’t ship today.’’
"You serious?’’ asks Bob.
"Sure I am.’’
"Okay, you’re on,’’ says Bob. "Ten bucks.’’
While everyone else is at lunch, I call Hilton Smyth. Hilton is at lunch as
well, but I leave a message for him. I tell his secretary the sub-assemblies will

---

definitely arrive at his plant tomorrow, but that’s the best we can do—unless
Hilton wants to pay for a special shipment tonight. (Knowing his concern for
holding down costs, I’m sure Hilton won’t want to shell out anything extra.)
After that call, I sit back and try to think about my marriage and what to do.
Obviously, there has been no news from Julie. I’m mad as hell that she took
off—I’m also very worried about her. But what can I do? I can’t cruise the
streets looking for her. She could be anywhere; I just have to be patient.
Eventually I should hear from her. Or her lawyer. Meanwhile, there are two
kids who have to be taken care of. Well, for all practical purposes, we’d
better make that three kids.
Fran comes into my office with another message slip. She says, "One of the
other secretaries just gave me this as I got back from lunch. While you were
on the phone, you got a call from David Rogo. Is that your son?’’
"Yes, what’s the problem?’’
"It says, he’s worried he won’t be able to get into the house after school,’’ she
says. "Is your wife gone?’’
"Yeah, she’s out of town for a few days,’’ I tell her. "Fran, you’ve got a
couple of kids. How do you manage to hold a job and take care of them?’’
She laughs. "Well, ’tain’t easy. On the other hand, I don’t work the long
hours you do. If I were you, I’d get some help until she gets back.’’
When she leaves, I pick up the phone again.
"Hello, Mom? It’s Alex.’’
"Have you heard from Julie yet?’’ she asks.
"No, I haven’t,’’ I say. "Listen, Mom, would you mind staying with me and
the kids until Julie gets back?’’
At two o’clock I slip out to pick up my mother and take her to the house
before the kids get home from school. When I arrive at her house, she’s at the

---

door with two suitcases and four cardboard boxes filled with half of her
kitchen.
"Mom, we’ve already got pots and pans at my house,’’ I tell her.
"They’re just not the same as mine,’’ she says.
So we load the trunk. I take her and her pots and pans over to the house and
unload. She waits for the kids to come home from school, and I race back to
the plant.
Around four o’clock, at the end of first shift, I go down to Bob
Donovan’s office to find out what the story is on Smyth’s shipment. He’s
waiting for me.
"Well, well, well. Good afternoon!’’ says Bob as I open the door and
walk in. "How nice of you to drop by!’’
"What are you so happy about?’’ I ask him.
"I’m always happy when people who owe me money drop by,’’ says Bob.
"Oh, is that right?’’ I ask him. "What makes you think anybody owes you
money?’’
Bob holds out his hand and wiggles his fingers. "Come on! Don’t tell me you
forgot about the bet we made! Ten bucks, remember? I just talked to Pete and
his people are indeed going to finish the hundred units of parts. So the robot
should have no problem finishing that shipment for Smyth’s plant.’’
"Yeah? Well, if that’s true I won’t mind losing,’’ I tell him.
"So you concede defeat?’’
"No way. Not until those sub-assemblies get on the five o’clock truck,’’ I tell
him.

---

"Suit yourself,’’ says Bob.
"Let’s go see what’s really going on out there,’’ I say.
We take a walk out on the floor to Pete’s office. Before we get there, we pass
the robot, who’s brightening the area with its weld flashes. Coming the other
way are two guys. Just as they pass the welding area, they stop and give a
little cheer.
"We beat the robot! We beat the robot!’’ they say.
"Must be from Pete’s department,’’ says Bob.
We smile as we pass them. They didn’t really beat anything, of course, but
what the hell. They look happy. Bob and I continue on to Pete’s office, which
is a little steel-sided shack among the machines.
"Hello there,’’ says Pete as we walk in. "We got that rush job done for you
today.’’
"Good, Pete. But do you have that log sheet you were supposed to keep,’’ I
ask him.
"Yes, I do,’’ says Pete. "Now where did I put it?’’
He sorts through the papers on his desk, talking as he hunts for it.
"You should have seen my people this afternoon. I mean, they really moved.
I went around and told them how important this shipment is, and they really
put themselves into it. You know how things usually slow down a little at the
end of a shift. But today they hustled. They were proud when they walked out
of here today.’’
"Yeah, we noticed,’’ says Bob.
He puts the log sheet down on top of a table in front of us.

---

"There you are,’’ he says.
We read it.
"Okay, so you only got nineteen pieces done in the first hour,’’ I say.
"Well, it took us a little longer to get organized, and one guy was late coming
back from lunch,’’ says Pete. "But at one o’clock we had a materials handler
take the nineteen over to the robot so it could get started.’’
"Then from one to two, you still missed the quota by four pieces,’’ says Bob.
"Yeah, but so what?’’ says Pete. "Look what happened from two o’clock to
three: we beat the quota by three pieces. Then when I saw we were still
behind, I went around and told everyone how important it was for us to get
those hundred pieces done by the end of the shift.’’
"So everyone went a little faster,’’ I say.
"That’s right,’’ says Pete. "And we made up for the slow start.’’

---

"Yeah, thirty-two pieces in the last hour,’’ says Bob. "So what do you say,
Al?’’
"Let’s go see what’s happening with the robot,’’ I say.
At five minutes past five o’clock, the robot is still turning out welded sub-
assemblies. Donovan is pacing. Fred walks up.
"Is that truck going to wait?’’ asks Bob.
"I asked the driver, and he says he can’t. He’s got other stops to make and if
he waits for us, he’ll be late all night,’’ says Fred.
Bob turns to the machine. "Well, what the heck is wrong with this stupid
robot? It’s got all the parts it needs.’’
I tap him on the shoulder.
"Here,’’ I say. "Look at this.’’
I show him the sheet of paper on which Fred has been recording the output of
the robot. From my shirt pocket, I take out Pete’s log and fold the bottom of
it so we can put the two pieces of paper together.
Combined, the two of them look like this:
I tell him, "You see, the first hour Pete’s people did nineteen pieces. The
robot was capable of doing twenty-five, but Pete delivered less than that, so
nineteen became the robot’s true capacity for that hour.’’
"Same with the second hour,’’ says Fred. "Pete delivered twenty-one, the
robot could only do twenty-one.’’

---

"Every time Pete’s area got behind, it was passed on to the robot,’’ I say.
"But when Pete delivered 28 pieces, the robot could still only do twenty-five.
That meant that when the final delivery of thirty-two pieces arrived at four
o’clock, the robot still had three pieces to work on from the last batch. So it
couldn’t start on the final batch right away.’’
"Okay, I see now,’’ says Bob.
Fred says, "You know, the most Pete was ever behind was ten pieces.
Kind of funny how that’s exactly the number of pieces we ended up short.’’
"That’s the effect of the mathematical principle I was trying to explain
this morning,’’ I say. "The maximum deviation of a preceding operation will
become the starting point of a subsequent operation.’’
Bob reaches for his wallet.
"Well, I guess I owe 
you
ten bucks,’’ he says to me. "Tell you what,’’ I say.

---

"Instead of paying me, why don’t you give the money to Pete so he can
spring for a round of coffee or something for the people in his department—
just a little way to say thanks for the extra effort this afternoon.’’
"Yeah, right, that’s a good idea,’’ says Bob. "Listen, sorry we
couldn’t ship today. Hope it doesn’t get us in trouble.’’ "We can’t worry
about it now,’’ I tell him. "The gain we made today is that we learned
something. But I’ll tell you one thing: we’ve got to take a close look at our
incentives here.’’ "How come?’’ asks Bob.
"Don’t you see? It didn’t matter that Pete got his hundred pieces done,
because we still couldn’t ship,’’ I say. "But Pete and his people thought they
were heroes. Ordinarily, 
we
might have thought the same thing. That isn’t
right.’’

---

18
When I get home that evening, both of the kids greet me at the door. My
mother is in the background, with steam pouring out of the kitchen. I presume
it has something to do with dinner and that she has everything under control.
In front of me, Sharon’s face is beaming up at me.
"Guess what!’’ she says.
"I give up,’’ I say.
"Mommy called on the phone,’’ Sharon says.
"She did!’’ I say.
I glance up at my mother. She shakes her head. "Davey answered the
phone,’’ she says. "I didn’t talk to her.’’ I look down at Sharon. "So what did
Mommy say?’’ "She said she loved Davey and me,’’ says Sharon. "And she
said she would be away for a while,’’ adds Davey.
"But that we shouldn’t worry about her.’’
"Did she say when she would be coming back?’’ I ask. "I asked her that,’’
says Davey. "But she said she couldn’t say right now.’’
"Did you get a phone number so I can call her back?’’ I ask him.
He looks down at the floor.
"David! You were supposed to ask her for the number if she called!’’
He mumbles, "I did, but . . . she didn’t want to give it to me.’’

---

"Oh,’’ I say.
"Sorry, Dad.’’
"It’s okay, Dave. Thanks for trying.’’
"Why don’t we all sit down to dinner,’’ my mother says cheerily.
This time the meal is not silent. My mother talks, and she does her best to
cheer us up. She tells us stories about the Depression and how lucky we are
to have food to eat.
Tuesday morning is a little bit more normal. Joining efforts, my mother
and I manage to get the kids to school and me to work on time. By 8:30, Bob,
Stacey, Lou, and Ralph are in my office, and we’re talking about what
happened yesterday. Today, I find them much more attentive. Maybe it’s
because they’ve seen the proof of the idea take place on their own turf, so to
speak.
"This combination of dependency and fluctuations is what we’re up
against every day,’’ I tell them. "I think it explains why we have so many late
orders.’’
Lou and Ralph are examining the two charts we made yesterday. "What
would have happened if the second operation hadn’t been a robot, if it had
been some kind of job with people?’’ asks Lou.
"We would have had another set of statistical fluctuations to complicate
things,’’ I say. "Don’t forget we only had two operations here. You can
imagine what happens when we’ve got dependency running through ten or
fifteen operations, each with its own set of fluctuations, just to make one part.
And some of our products involve hundreds of parts.’’
Stacey is troubled. She asks, "Then how can we ever control what’s going
on out there?’’
I say, "That’s the billion-dollar question: how can we control the fifty-

---

thousand or—who knows?—maybe it’s fifty-million variables which exist in
this plant?’’
"We’d have to buy a new 
super
computer just to keep track of all of them,’’
says Ralph.
I say, "A new computer wouldn’t save us. Data management alone isn’t
going to give us more control.’’
"What about longer lead times?’’ asks Bob.
"Oh, you really think longer lead time would have guaranteed our ability to
ship that order to Hilton Smyth’s plant?’’ I ask him. "How long had we
already known about that order before yesterday, Bob?’’
Bob wiggles back and forth. "Hey, all I’m saying is that we’d have some slop
in there to make up for the delays.’’
Then Stacey says, "Longer lead times increase inventory, Bob. And that isn’t
the goal.’’
"Okay, I know that,’’ Bob is saying. "I’m not fighting you. The only reason I
mention the lead times is I want to know what we do about all this.’’
Everybody turns to me.
I say, "This much is clear to me. We have to change the way we think about
production capacity. We cannot measure the capacity of a resource in
isolation. Its true productive capacity depends upon where it is in the plant.
And trying to level capacity with demand to minimize expenses has really
screwed us up. We shouldn’t be trying to do that at all.’’
"But that’s what everybody else does,’’ says Bob. "Yes, everybody does. Or
claims to. As we now can see, it’s a stupid thing to try,’’ I say.
"So how do other manufacturers survive?’’ asks Lou. I tell him I was
wondering that myself. What I suspect is that as a plant comes close to being

---

balanced through the efforts of engineers and managers doing the wrong
things, events head toward a crisis and the plant is very quickly 
un
balanced
by shifting workers or by overtime or by calling back some people from
layoff. The survival incentive overrides false beliefs. "Okay, but again, what
are we going to do?’’ asks Bob. "We can’t hire without division approval.
And we’ve even got a policy against overtime.’’
"Maybe it’s time to call Jonah again,’’ says Stacey. And I say, "I think maybe
you’re right.’’
It takes Fran half an hour to locate the area of the world where Jonah happens
to be today, and another hour passes before Jonah can get to the phone to talk
to us. As soon as he’s on the line, I have another secretary round up the staff
again and corral them in my office so we can hear him on a speaker phone.
While they’re coming in, I tell Jonah about the hike with Herbie where I
discovered the meaning of what he was telling me, and what we’ve learned
about the effects of the two phenomena in the plant.
"What we know now,’’ I tell him, "is that we shouldn’t be looking at each
local area and trying to trim it. We should be trying to optimize the whole
system. Some resources have to have more capacity than others. The ones at
the end of the line should have more than the ones at the beginning—
sometimes a lot more. Am I right?’’
"You’re on the money,’’ says Jonah.
"Good. Glad to hear we’re getting somewhere,’’ I say. "Only the reason I
called is, we need to know where to go from here.’’ He says, "What you have
to do next, Alex, is distinguish between two types of resources in your plant.
One type is what I call a bottleneck resource. The other is, very simply, a
non-bottleneck resource.’’
I whisper to everybody to start taking some notes on this. "A bottleneck,’’
Jonah continues, "is any resource whose capacity is equal to or