1
I come through the gate this morning at 7:30 and I can see it from across
the lot: the crimson Mercedes. It’s parked beside the plant, next to the offices.
And it’s in
my
space. Who else would do that except Bill Peach? Never mind
that the whole lot is practically empty at that hour. Never mind that there are
spaces marked "Visitor.’’ No, Bill’s got to park in the space with my title on
it. Bill likes to make subtle statements. So, okay, he’s
the division vice-
president, and I’m just a mere plant manager. I guess he can park his damn
Mercedes wherever he wants.
I put my
Mazda
next to it (in the space marked "Controller’’). A glance at
the license as I walk around it assures me it has to be Bill’s car because the
plate says "NUMBER 1.’’ And, as we all know, that’s absolutely correct in
terms of who Bill always looks out for. He wants his shot at CEO. But so do
I. Too bad that I may never get the chance now.
Anyway, I’m walking up to the office doors.
Already the adrenalin is
pumping. I’m wondering what the hell Bill is doing here. I’ve lost any hope
of getting any work done this morning. I usually go in early to catch up on all
the stuff I’m too busy to do during the day, because I can really get a lot done
before the phone rings and the meetings start, before the fires break out. But
not today.
"Mr. Rogo!’’ I hear someone calling.
I stop as four people come bursting out of a door on the side of the plant.
I see Dempsey, the shift supervisor;
Martinez, the union steward; some
hourly guy; and a machining center foreman named Ray. And they’re all
talking at the same time. Dempsey is telling me we’ve got a problem.
Martinez is shouting about how there is going to be a walkout. The hourly
guy is saying something about harassment. Ray is yelling that we can’t finish
some damn thing because we don’t have all the parts. Suddenly I’m in the
middle of all this. I’m looking at them; they’re looking at me. And I haven’t
even had a cup of coffee yet.
When I finally get everyone calmed down enough to ask what’s going on,
I learn that Mr. Peach
arrived about an hour before, walked into my plant,
and demanded to be shown the status of Customer Order Number 41427.
Well, as fate would have it, nobody happened
to know about Customer
Order 41427. So Peach had everybody stepping and fetching to chase down
the story on it. And it turns out to be a fairly big order. Also a late one. So
what else is new? Everything in this plant is late. Based on observation, I’d
say this plant has four ranks of priority for orders: Hot ...Very Hot ...Red
Hot... and Do It NOW! We just can’t keep ahead of anything.
As soon as he discovers 41427 is nowhere close to being shipped, Peach
starts playing expeditor. He’s storming around, yelling orders at Dempsey.
Finally it’s determined almost all the parts needed are ready and waiting—
stacks of them. But they can’t be assembled. One part of some sub-assembly
is missing; it still has to be run through some other operation yet. If the guys
don’t have the part, they can’t assemble, and if they can’t assemble, naturally,
they can’t ship.
They find out the pieces for the missing subassembly are sitting over by
one of the n/c machines, where they’re waiting their turn to be run. But when
they go to that department, they find the machinists are
not
setting up to run
the part in question, but instead some other
do-it-now job which somebody
imposed upon them for some other product.
Peach doesn’t give a damn about the other do-it-now job. All he cares
about is getting 41427 out the door. So he tells Dempsey to direct his
foreman, Ray, to instruct his master machinist to forget about the other super-
hot gizmo and get ready to run the missing part for 41427. Whereupon the
master machinist looks
from Ray to Dempsey to Peach, throws down his
wrench, and tells them they’re all crazy. It just took him and his helper an
hour and
a half to set up for the
other
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