1. Does not leak - We’re comparable, but it’s the most valuable category ($$$) for a given amount of effort.
2. Connections for hot and cold water - We’re comparable, and it’s a moderately important characteristic ($$)
3. Large enough to wash a dog - We lag on this characteristic, but it’s a small niche that would take a lot of effort to architect an acceptable solution. ($)

Given finite resources, I would prioritize the effort to be in category 1, as it’s the most valuable and where we’re the most vulnerable.  If I have extra, it would go into category 2.  While we’re superior in connections for hot and cold water, being so is worth more money than than category 3, which (in this highly-contrived example) is a distraction from what we do.

Enter Eeyore, our Vice President of Ideas, who often returns from customer visits with an excessively strong customer empathy that We Must Solve Their Problem Now By Implementing Feature XXXX.   Past examples of Feature XXXX have included jewel-encrusted faucet handles, Dolby Surround Sound toilet seats, platinum hair filter - whatever the most recent customer mentioned.  After his most recent trip, he is convinced that having a sink large enough to wash a dog is the most strategic thing we can be doing now.  (The first clue that he may not be the most credible source is his definition of strategic is “in the next three months.”)  Often, the idea will go away on its own.   Sometimes, though, I need to spend time investigating the feasibility while I’m trying to deliver the existing products on time and within budget/schedule.

Prior to his trip, two weeks ago, we decided we would not do this.  But now, we’ve re-reversed ourselves.  Anticipating Eeyore will soon convince other Vice Presidents that we must do this, I ask questions to clarify the scope like: “What kind of dogs?”   Of course, Eeyore doesn’t know, that’s my job to pursue those tactical details.  I will thus summon flying monkeys to find out, all the while getting the existing set of household products to market.   “Eeyore, how much are they willing to spend?”  Eeyore responds “no, no, this is a giveaway item for the customer to realize how Insanely Great we are.  They’ll buy more! more!! more!!!”  (I swear, he pronounces these exclamation marks.)

My monkeys will interview people with mini-dogs to determine if they just want to make that Dog Smell go away.  (For that, an ordinary sink will work.)   They’ll observe people with giant man-dogs that need to chew on the legs of ungulates.  (That’s a two-person-sized bath tub plus an ancillary refrigeration chamber for leg quarters.)   If they’re thorough enough, they’ll discover owners of beagles who have delusions of being World War II flying aces.   And in summary, “You know what, Eeyore, we have a product for that, it’s called a house.”

Gack.

Today, we went over the results, and the presentation wasn’t particularly helpful.  For example, suppose they asked “What is your favorite color?“  The marketing “researcher’s” results look like this:

What is your favorite color of toilet?
a) Red - 12%
b) Green - 9%
c) Blue - 6%
d) Other - 73%

The problem?  The “other’ responses are a huge chunk of the survey results.  From this scant information, we don’t know if this represents people naming all of the paint chips in Home Depot (e.g., seashell pink - 0.1% chartreuse - 0.07%, etc) or, more likely, there is an effed up choice selection, missing something obvious (e.g., White: 40%, Ivory: 33%, Pepto-Bismol pink: 0.000000007%)

Another component of the “research” delivered is metrics of customer satisfaction and perceived importance of several features.  This type of question is a two-parter where the “ideal” score is when a customer’s satisfaction equals their perceived importance.  For example, if we were selling sinks, “technical support” might yield an importance of 1 out of 5.  Receiving a 5 out of 5 on technical support suggests we  may be spending too much energy into that aspect of our solution.  Conversely, not leaking might be a 5 out of 5 importance.  We’d better hit that.

Now, suppose the results look like this:

Sink Quality	Rank	Importance	Satisfaction	Delta
Does not leak	1	5.0	4.6	-0.4
Stain-resistant finish	2	4.5	4.2	-0.3
Connections for hot and cold water	3	3.8	3.9	+0.1
Technical support	4	1.5	1.9	+0.4
…	…	…	…	…
Large enough to wash a dog	10	0.5	0.3	-0.2

I’d conclude we should be focusing our resources on ensuring the “sinks do not leak” and “stain resistant finish.”  They’re the most important and exhibit the biggest gap in satisfaction. The market researchers see it differently, recommending we should focus on making sinks “Large enough to wash a dog.”  When pressed to explain, they trot out several statistical metrics to nine digits of precision: Cramer’s V, Wilks’ Lambda, chi-square, df, eigenvalue and canonical correction.   I don’t know what most of these are, nor should I need to.  The meeting kept getting hung up on questions like:

Us: Why is the “Smells of bacon (-0.440)” is ranked between the “2-inch drainpipe (0.512)” and “Magneto-optical soap holder (0.393)?”

They say: “Gaussian Globorfrotz is absolute value.”

Me: “Well, why didn’t you just take the sign off?  [Secretly wanting to ask: Did you guys make up Globorfrotz?  It gives me flashbacks to El Jefe."]

The raw data I received is separated into one file per question.  It’ll take me about four hours to assemble, but the results will be more useful.

1) Sure, this will provide fodder for my blog for at least six weeks!

2) Can I throw up on you now?

Because I don’t want this to be easily googlable, I have changed some of the wording, but the structure and message are pretty darn close to the original.  Frighteningly so.

VALUE-CENTRIC DNA: DEFINING TRAITS OF A WORLD-CLASS ENTERPRISE

The presentation has the Money Title.  What business abhors value?  (None!)  What business wants to be world class?  (All of them!)  He links both with DNA, which is like sooooooo science! This reminds me of an incredibly stupid book someone gave me a few years ago that used the term “Marketing Physics.”  It, too, contained a secret code in the back that offered a computer-based assessment of your go-to-market plan.

In this engaging and enlightening presentation, Con Sultant offers pearls of insight on how the planet’s elite companies use the value experience to boost business performance and create distinction in the marketplace.  Important issues covered include:

• The key characteristics of the planet’s leading value-driven companies
• Building an organization built for excellence

I didn’t make that second bullet up at all.

• The link between mission statements, company culture, and value-driven experience
• Dispelling the five greatest myths in value-driven service today
• The five things every customer must be able to say to become unswervingly loyal

But to keep the “science” (note my use of air quotes) from being boring, the information is distilled into a set of lists, unverifiable anecdotes and parables. Lists are fun!

Con Sultant reveals the little-known and strategic reasons why certain companies have transcended their industries and become the benchmark nirvana for achievement in the field of value excellence.  Whereas other programs merely speak to case studies on what premier companies do differently, Con Sultant offers practical experience and an insider’s perspective from his important work within the galaxy’s best.

So at this point, I’m wondering what this miracle worker’s qualifications are. Segue to the supplied biography:

Biography: Con Sultant is the founder of Extreme Performance Strategy Awesomeness Group, a consulting firm specializing in value service and enterprise etiquette.  He is a former director of submerged container weaving and Executive Whisperer for the [Awesome Brand Name Company You Only Wish You Had The Money To Do Business With, Though You Wouldn't Because You'd Rather Pay Your Mortgage And Feed Your Cat] and was instrumental in launching a new [Famous Vendor] store.   Sultant has been training professionals for more than 12 years and the [Awesome Brand Name Company] that achieved a #1 rating in Excellence under his training and thought leadership.

How fortunate for us that this guy just happens to run his own consulting company.  Do you think it’s possible that his organization would be willing to accept our money in exchange for his help?  Bueller?

Please welcome Joe Jargon as our new Messiah.  Joe brings 5 billion years of experience in [our field] as a layman, architect, sanitary engineer, foreman, and billing clerk. Over the past five years, as a consultant for Buzzword Partners, Joe has been a Executive Whisperer.   Joe has been working with [co-founder] to develop a plan for building flying invisible unicorns and hiring his friends from other companies.  Welcome, Joe!

Joe Jargon will continue to work with his other client until year’s end — four days a month of travel plus fifteen minutes of him yelling into a cell phone each morning.

Sign #2 this is going to be a bad weeK:

June 25: CIO: “Your new laptop will be here Friday!”

June 30: Captain Sarcastic: “Can I have my laptop now?”
IT lackey: “I just need to configure it.  I won’t be able to do this until [insert name of other, delayed project here]”

July 11: Captain Sarcastic: “Hey, I have an international trip coming up the week of the 21st.  Will you be able to deliver the laptop?”
IT lackey: “Sure, no problem!”

July 18: IT lackey: “Your new laptop is not going to be ready next week. We have a lemon DVD drive so we are going to have to send it back and get another one.  This is a first.”

July 19: Captain Sarcastic: “What kind of time frame?  Can I just have it without the DVD, then we put it in when the part comes in?”

(Today) July 21: IT lackey: “At this point we are having to ship the laptop one back. I’ll speak with [CIO], and see what Dell says about time frame for them to send a replacement.”

Fuck, it’s only Monday.

“New machine is scheduled to be installed tomorrow morning. Get your coffee while you can. We will not have filtered cold water for several days.”

Oh, the horror - people will have to drink Source Municipal at room temperature!

First update this morning, 7:30 a.m.:

“The new machine should be installed this morning, the coffee technician is on the way to the office right now. Plan on coffee being available by 10:00.”

Not the actual coffee maker

The Coffee Technician arrives at 8:00 and proceeds to plug everything in.  Around 9:00, I overhear him instructing the HR department on the use of the machine, making statements like:

“The Coffulator DMC-12 needs latinum mesh wiring — which you already have — otherwise, its flux capacitor will have to be recalibrated, which [whistles] gets pretty hairy.”

It takes conscious effort to not laugh at this guy explaining things at the nano-scale to an audience that Does Not Need To Know This Level of Detail.  At 10:45, the VP of HR sends out an email to everyone in the company: “Coffee training.  Breakroom.  Now!”

Bat Crazy Doris is tasked with translating the two hours of edumacation from the Coffee Technician, who’s sitting down on a table in the room, chatting away on his wireless.

Aside: As much as I hate cell phones in public places, the wireless bluetooth headbud things are fucking creepy because you never know if the person chatting away is a psychopath or just being an asshole.

Now, to supply a visual, the machine looks a bit like the “Astra Super Mega II Automated Commercial Espresso Machine & Coffee Center” shown to the right.  It’s difficult to see the buttons, but it’s pretty obvious how this should work:

1. Put a coffee cup under the spout.
2. Select what you want.
3. Press start.
4. When the scalding hot liquid stops flowing, remove cup and enjoy your beverage!

Doris is trying to recount the information as best as she could.  When she pauses to breathe, the Coffee Technician takes occasional breaks from his phone conversation to interject Arcane Coffee Technician Knowledge, intended to woo the crowd.  We want a cup of coffee, not a Masters in Caffeinology.

Tired of waiting, I push ahead and make a latte.  Two buttons and thirty seconds while everyone watches in eager attention.  Before I am allowed to return to my desk, I am obliged to take a sip there, and make my informed judgement as to its authenticity.

The email updates continued! This nugget:

The milk in the refrigerator by the coffee machine is ONLY for the coffee machine. Please do not use this milk for your cereal, for a glass or milk, making flan, ice cream or any other purpose.

unfortunately started a torrent of cross-email, sucking the productivity of half the smart-assery in the building:

I have a question about the “glass of milk” prohibition. Why is the company willing to provide a latte, but not a glass of milk, which is simply a latte minus the coffee ?

HR promptly answered this:

Starting Monday there will be a 25¢ “donation” requested for lattes, cappuccinos or any milk based drinks. This minimal charge will help offset the milk expense and may change from time to time.

But then:

Requiring the coffee with the milk will limit the amount of milk you consume, thus ensuring that enough milk is available for the coffee drinkers, which I presume is the objective.

What if we used two cups, one for the coffee, one for the milk?  I could give the coffee to Charles.

What if we filled our cereal bowls with lattes instead of milk?

My theory is the coffee machine milk has some special property that makes it work better with the coffee machine.  Perhaps coffee machine milk contains some kind of expensive coffee machine lubricant that the company doesn’t want to spend money on unless you are actually using in in the coffee machine. Or perhaps said lubricant is toxic unless combined with caffeine.  Although if that were the case, the problem of coffee-machine milk theft would eventually work itself out.

Argh.  I need to get out of the office… maybe I’ll walk to the coffee house with the cute barista.

Our first coffee machine had a power plug. After adding a filter and spooning in an appropriate amount of ground coffee, one would pour water in the top, flip the rocker switch to “1″ and wait.  Maintaining coffee fullness required an arbitration algorithm known as “Finish the pot, start the next one. Or you will die.” The machine lasted a few years.

The next three coffee machines became increasingly more complicated, requiring a water source, special disposable coffee packages and regular cleaning. When the machine broke down, HR would absolutely freak out, calling upon Saint Robusta to make blessings and exorcise the evil spirits (spilt coffee grounds) from the intricate mechanism. Hourly status updates would accompany this.

The new machine does not merely make “coffee.” (Hell, if you wanted just coffee, you could go to Dunkin’ Donuts. Be sure to bring me back a Bavarian Creme™-filled donut!) No-siree! Our machine will make cappuccinos. And lattes. And espresso. Iced or hot. With a batallion of flavor syrups, an option for version 2.0, we will have within our grasp the power to make anything… except Frappuccinos™, a registered trademark of the Starbucks corporation. (We wouldn’t want the Seattle Coffee Mafia paying us a visit to “explain their licensing options,” if you know what I mean.)

The new apparatus was delivered in components.  Once we were judged worthy, we gutted our break room, wiring up special Ethiopian Electricity and running pipes for the Columbian Water Cascade feeding into the Java of Life vestibule. There is a new, dedicated refrigerator for storing the twelve kinds of milk that are used in essential to running our business.  We also have an ice machine that generates the little O-shaped ice with a hollow interior.  It’s a scientific fact that Iced Cappuccinos taste better on curved, frozen water.

Mails from this week:

Monday:

The table for the coffee machine is in place!!!!  The refrigerator that will hold the milk for your lovely latte’s is also in place.  This refrigerator will be dedicated to latte’s milk only.  (This means you, Captain Sarcastic!!!)  It is currently locked.

The [dedicated] ice maker is being installed. It will sit on top of the [dedicated  milk] refrigerator.

Tuesday:

I forgot to mention that you will need to be certified before you are permitted to use the new machine.  I am circulating a sign-up sheet for training on its use and maintenance.

Wednesday:

We are testing the refrigerators to determine how loud they are and how fast they will [chill milk to 33 degrees F/make fancy ice with holes in it, respectively].

Thursday:

Coffee beans are being purchased based on a recommendation of [some coffee snob who works for us] who knows “this guy who can get things.”  I can’t say more, except we will have regular, decaf and semi-caf.   We are investigating pricing of shade-grown, free range, organic coffee bundled in symmetric hemp.

Friday:

The coffee machine will NOT be ready today. We have been rescheduled for the customized installation to sometime next week, probably Wednesday.   Cliff is aware of the situation.  Please remain calm.  Please relay concerns to your division’s vice president.

Immediately, I sent email to my foremen telling them I would be out of the office until “sometime next week, probably Wednesday” to search the building for pods.

The stuff he was supposed to have printed on Friday afternoon wasn’t ready when I went into the office Saturday afternoon.  In response to my call, he claimed there was a “misunderstanding.”  He would have them ready before my 6 a.m. flight Sunday.  Uh-huh.  “Why don’t you send me a message when you’re done?”  I was really thinking: “Bite me.  Like I need to get up any earlier?”

The stack of photocopied lead sheets and a small picture was waiting for me.  The thing that struck me was how utterly fucking trivial the work was: lead generation forms on half-pages (so two per page), no perforation.  He could have easily done them on the office copier and use the office machete to cut them.  Or, if the vellum paper was truly necessary, print to a Kinko’s in the destination city.  (And while I’m on a rant, why the hell do people always ask for FAX numbers.  Faxes are so 1985.)

Waldo also left a briefcase containing our metal and glass display rack.  Boy Genius didn’t send this with the demonstration materials, and now expects me check it.  So much for my doing a carry-on. When I arrived in Awesomeville, the bag is missing from the carousel.  In the “lost luggage” department, I see it sitting way in the back.  It’s completely destroyed and apperas as if it fell from the plane.  Really, it’s that bad.  I call Waldo to get an estimated value for the case plus rack, and file a claim with Awesome Airlines.

Two hours later, I check into the posh hotel and ask if they have the packages waiting for me.  They don’t.  Waldo gives me a name and signing date.  The hotel has never heard of this person.  I call Waldo again, “Did you send them to the correct hotel?”  On a lark, I walk over to the meeting hall and ask around.  Lo!  The materials are there:

• A 5′ tube containing our pretty visual display (only it has the 2006 model year plumbing facilities).  The zipper on the tube failed sometime during the Eisenhower administration.  The seal is maintained by pounds of clear tape.  I have nothing to cut with, so I ask the hotel for scissors.  The unfurled display is 7′ tall, half occluded by the table top we’ve rented.  I set this up in a corner, blocking the line of sight to one of my competitors, returning the favor from a previous event.

• A fourth-generation Dell Workstation box held together by layers of clear, duct, and masking (!) tapes.  The box has lost all of its rigidity, making it extremely hard to wield.  In fact it was easier just to open it there with the hotel scissors, pull stuff out, and drag it across the hall.  Whomever packed this — and I have a good guess — literally threw everything in there half-assed.  The black table cloth with our company logo is wadded up, impregnated with hundreds of loose staples that fell out of the box of office supplies.  A set of 3×5 note cards is strewn along the bottom of the box, hard to pick up without occasional impalement from staples.  There are also a stapler, scissors(!) and a roll of clear tape.

The supreme irony is he sent all of this via second-day air for an event that was approved over six months ago.   Bat Crazy Doris went, well, bat shit crazy when she saw the invoice.  Doris normally does all the shipments with an eye towards frugality.  Waldo waited until she was out of the office before convincing someone else to do the shipment.  Even more incensed was the Vice President of Whining, three heads above Waldo’s spot in the organization.  Waldo is apparently going to receive the “job threatening performance” review when he’s back from vacation.

And unlike our previous web designer, the stuff Waldo delivers … late … is crap.  For example, we did a product re-launch of our new heated toilet seat line.  The venue for this launch is engraved in granite, laminated with gold, then placed in a tasteful pearl setting.  In other words, there was no ambiguity… because we’re sending a half the company to this event.

Waldo had been working on our web site.  The October launch date soon became Octobuary.   It went online the same day as our announcement.  Not only was the content unencumbered by “facts” or “vetting with the people who know,” there was no capacity planning of site infrastructure.  After alcohol helped analysis and customers process Cliff’s big announcement, they hit our site.  If more than three wanted to access “content,” the server shat itself.  A hilarious game of “Where’s Waldo” ensued.

And here we are in June.  Waldo is coordinating a marketing event that I drew the short straw for.  He was supposed to have a stack of pre-copied lead generation forms done weeks ago.  Friday, he comes in:

Waldo: “Will you be staying late today [Friday]?”

Captain Sarcastic: “No fucking way, Waldo.  I’ve been sick all week.  I only came in today to pick up [these stupid fucking forms]”

Waldo: “Oh, well, then I’ll have them done this evening.  You can just pick them up tomorrow.  Or whenever you’re on the way to the airport.”

This morning, I’m already radiating anti-joy beams because:

1. I have to come into the office on a Saturday…
2. because I’m going to a marketing event…
3. that’s going to take all Sunday to fly to…
4. and I’m feeling ill.  [When I can stop coughing long enough to talk, my voice is three octaves lower than normal, giving me the super power of causing oobleck locomotion. (This is arguably very cool, just don't ask me to repeat what I said.)]
5. and the asshats sponsoring the event scheduled the opening for the extreme end of Monday.   Adjust for the three hour time zone change, and it’s cruel.  I’m going to be the walking undead trying to be cordial.

Guess what wasn’t there?  Waldo’s forms aren’t rocket science.   I send him a terse email, Cc’ing his manager.   I am tired of this defer commitment until the last irresponsible minute bullshit.

10:00 a.m. – 10:15 a.m. Registration - the only reason you’d come early is if you want to score a generic pastry or a seat up front. It’s generous they have this later in the morning because it means attendees can take a leisurely morning arriving — which is precisely what I did.

10:15 a.m. – 10:30 a.m. Welcome/Introduction of products - This is the first sales pitch… but only after the A/V equipment gods are pleased. Soon, it becomes audience participation time: “No, press fn-F8.” “Try it again.” “We need batteries for the remote.” “Where’s this cable go?” “Edit your config.sys” Yes, even in 2008, these things are still finicky. When the planets achieve harmonic convergence, a computer image is projected. The presenter logs in to reveal a desktop is littered with a thousand little icons. Oh, the humanity! It reminds me of another presenter who had interesting names like “naked.avi” scattered among business documents. <shudder>

The presenter has a thick, distracting accent. His company is the local reseller, the one actually sponsoring the event. Godzilla Corporation received all the billing, as they are the main draw. Otherwise, his presentation is like every other where he throws up a slide with his company information and map of local offices:

“Hi we are Tiny, LLC. Blah blah blah. We partner with our customers. Blah blah blah synergy. Blah blah blah partner.”

Dude, it’s a partnership if we both share in the profits and losses. If money flows one direction, which it does, then it’s a client-vendor relationship. (Our guys do the same spiel and this is what I’m thinking.)

“I would like to introduce [Tom, Dick and Harry, who are all sitting in the back row, observing the crowd and eating the generic pastries.]“

Given the reactions of a couple of people in the audience, Tom is a sales engineer they’ve worked with. No clue who Dick and Harry are, nor why I should care.

“Tiny, LLC, was established in [...]“

If this question ever comes up on Jeopardy!, then I’ll kick ass. Otherwise: I. Don’t. Care.

“We also have affiliate offices in Detroit, Philadelphia, Dallas and Los Angeles.”

And since I don’t live in these places, I care because? At this point, I regret not bringing my laptop. I zone out for a few minutes until this guy’s done.

10:30 a.m. – 11:30 a.m. Product pitch - This was the actual thing I came to see. The guy enunciated well, he was mildly entertaining, and he managed to stroke the egos of the Knowledegable Users by playing the game “Do you remember in version [n-3] where [some characteristic].” Old farts nodding their head, countering with another attribute that’s improved since version [n-4]. Users dig that stuff.

11:30 a.m. – 12:30 p.m. Lunch - Lunch serves dual purposes beyond the obvious “feeding people.” First, it’s an opportunity for the sales critters to deploy among the group, hitting them up for information:

So, do ya have a budget for this year? Who would be the best person to contact in your organization? Say, is [some name from their customer relationship management system] still at your company?

They’ll use this to fine tune the demonstration scheduled for later. Sales guys who can do this without making it obvious are amazing to watch.

The second purpose is constructing the schedule this way is to give the illusion of a large audience while actually “dividing and conquering.” The sales people know that Bob, a mid-level IT managers from Megalon Heavy Industries, is in attendance. Bob has no doubt told his boss he’ll be attending an all-day, free educational seminar, but has the full intent of heading home after lunch. The subtle part: everyone’s okay with this!

The sales critters at Godzilla Corporation look upon this as an opportunity to give the illusion of a full crowd at the beginning, so as not to spook the two actual prospects in attendance who’d otherwise find themselves outnumbered by “sales engineers” four to one. Even though Bob’s not in the corporate purchase food chain, they’ll use the opportunity to inflate his importance by calling on him during the presentation.

Being complicit with Bob’s extra time off makes Bob a valuable ally when sales heat up. “As we mentioned to Bob during our free, educational seminar last June [...]” because Bob cannot say “You know, Vern, I have no idea how or if this stuff works. I left early to go bang my wife before the kids got home from school.”

The boss knows Bob’s going to play hookey for the day, and is okay with this because officially, Bob has been attending an educational seminar. “Free” means it doesn’t come out of anyone’s budget. Besides, Vern doesn’t want to be questioned when it’s his turn to leave early for an “off-site seminar that, by sheer coincidence, is on my way home.”

12:30 p.m. – 13:30 p.m. Live demonstration - The demonstration will be customized based on information received from lunchtime reconnaissance, usually by calling out specific hot buttons for the two prospects. In the unlikely event Bob is still hanging around, there will be some nods to him. “Isn’t that right, Bob?” “Bob’s an expert in this.” Beaming, Bob will remain in check. Third party endorsements are a powerful thing.

13:30 p.m. – 14:00 p.m. Summary and close - this is the infamous “call to action.” We’ll tell you what we just told you and remind you, again, to make sure you provide your business card and contact information on the sign-up sheet so you can be entered in the drawing for a [whatever, valued at less than an hour's worth of your time].

Since Bob has definitely gone home by now, they can leverage the four-on-one time to schedule a visit and demo.

“At the People In Multiple Processes Soiree in Gotham City [some time period], [Luminary 1] was arguing with [Luminary 2] about [whatever we were just discussing in class]. After I finished the aperitif, I demonstrated my sheer munificence and intervened, convincing them both I was correct. [Luminary 2] was so impressed with [my awesomeness], [he/she/it] offered to pick up the check… until [Lumimary 1] challenged [him/her/it] to battle for the same honor.”

Or, when I started zoning out because I was bored, tired, or thinking about all the things I need to do at the office (which I did after class, leaving me very, very tired):

“When I was having lunch with Cliff last week …”

Or, he was plugging books and additional conslutting services offered by his firm:

“We have a special offering that I think you all need to attend. Since you’re valued customers [and a captive audience for this sales pitch], we will do something we have never done in the history [of the last five minutes] and [extend a 20% discount] if you [commit to signing up for a course a month with our surprisingly restrictive revolving credit terms].”

For me, the tone of the class was set on the morning of the first day when we did a waste visualization exercise. I was feeling pretty good about the direction we’re heading, especially relative to where we were when El Jefe was at the helm. The instructor was nagging us about stuff that currently doesn’t keep me up at night.

For example, suppose we have several monthly construction “cycle” during a seven month delivery cycle. (Seven is a lucky number, down from thirteen last year.) One of our projects is building a new kind of bathtub. There are many features we can provide — single, dual, or tri-water controls; ADA-compliancy; multiple colors — but each costs money to do. Rather than coming out the gate with a de luxe tub that takes eight months of construction time and cost for things our customers don’t really want, we come up with a prototype, shop it around to customers, and have them tell us what additional things are important. The calendar of events looks like this:

• January: build prototype
• February - April: work on something else while we shop the tub around.
• May: add tub features
• June: Test
• July: Ship it!

The instructor’s first beef was the long gap between February and April. Hey, I’m not happy about it either, but it takes some time to find customers willing to install a tub, take several long baths, and then tell us what else they need in a tub. When I get the results back, we learn: ADA-compliance is important, number of controls is semi-important, and nobody cares about colors. This is valuable data. And it’s not like my craftsmen aren’t working on other things.

His second beef, and the one we spent the longest time master-debating, was the time to deliver the actual prototype. Physical labor was two weeks, but we took three calendar weeks due to scheduling of plumber and inspectors. This leaves one week of “unsold inventory,” which in process parlance, is bad. Theoretically, yes. But you know, it’s nowhere near my biggest problem. If I use variable cycle length, I’ll save a few bucks, at the expense of confusing the hell out of the foremen. It’s not worth it. I have more lucrative areas to save.

There were some interesting nuggets in the class, but perhaps the most useful takeaway is we’re doing a lot of things right.