Don't Go Down the Rabbit Hole

Kaizen Snapshot

Setting: Armstrong World Industries – St. Helens, Oregon plant
Challenge: Multiple simultaneous operational issues overwhelming leadership
Stakes: Safety, uptime, morale, and credibility
Approach: Prioritization, delegation, team ownership
Outcome: Clear focus, aligned action, stronger leadership discipline
Key Lesson: You don’t win by fixing everything. You win by fixing the right thing

The Situation

One thing you learn quickly in manufacturing is this:
Even when things are going well, there’s no guarantee they’ll stay that way.

People, processes, equipment, weather, raw materials, any one of them can tip a good day into a bad one.

At the St. Helens ceiling tile plant, we were in the middle of one of those weeks. Equipment downtime was high. Safety concerns were surfacing. People issues were piling up.

As Operations Manager, I felt responsible for all of it.

What Was Getting in the Way

I approached the situation the way many engineers do, by trying to solve every problem at once.

I believed:

• Every issue mattered equally

• I needed to stay on top of everything

• Speed meant touching everything personally

In our morning review meeting, I rattled off dozens of problems.

What I didn’t have was a clear direction.

The Moment That Changed Everything

As I started diving deep into a relatively small issue, one that wasn’t driving major loss, Olivia, our plant manager, stepped in.

“Adam, stop worrying about all the little details.
Let’s focus on the key problem, build the plan, and execute it.
Then we’ll move on to the next.”

It was obvious. And I had completely missed it.

What Changed

Olivia had the team identify the top three problems for the day.

Then she did something even more important. She had them self-assign ownership.

Suddenly:

• Focus replaced overwhelm

• The team leaned in

• Progress accelerated

I took one of the assignments myself and learned more about leadership that day than I had in months.

The Takeaway

Trying to fix everything is a fast way to fix nothing.

Strong leaders create focus, trust their teams, and resist the pull to dive into every detail.

Why This Matters

When leaders chase every problem, teams hesitate.

When leaders create clarity, teams act.

Focus isn’t avoidance, it’s discipline.

Ready to Build Focused Improvement?

If your organization feels overwhelmed by competing priorities, Kaizen may not be the problem, focus might be.

Tearing Down the Monuments of Poor Leadership

Kaizen Snapshot

Setting: Armstrong World Industries’ Lancaster, Pennsylvania vinyl flooring plant
Challenge: Low morale, poor discipline, and eroding trust
Stakes: Productivity, safety, and plant survival
Approach: Visible leadership action, standards reinforcement, symbolic reset
Outcome: Behavior change, improved discipline, productivity lift
Key Lesson: Culture changes when leaders make standards visible and non-negotiable

The Situation

When I became Business Unit Manager at Armstrong’s Lancaster vinyl flooring plant, the history was obvious.

Demand was down. Trust was low. Discipline was inconsistent.
And when people lose confidence in the future, they find ways to disengage.

During a leadership rotation through all shifts, we decided to experience the plant the way every employee did, including nights.

That’s when I found something I didn’t expect.

What Was Getting in the Way

During an overnight walk, I noticed lines running with missing crew members.

Breakrooms were empty. Work areas were quiet.

So I started looking in unused areas of the facility, nine floors of old industrial space.
On the sixth floor, I found stacks of fabric arranged into makeshift “beds.”

The rumors were true.

What We Did

Instead of calling people out, accusing, or lecturing, we took a different approach.

We formed a “bed-hunting” team and searched the facility. Over several days, we found six sleeping areas.

On a Wednesday morning, without announcement, we gathered all the beds and dragged them outside where everyone could see them.

Then we destroyed them in a controlled burn.

No speeches.

No accusations.
Just a clear message: this is not how we work here.

What Changed

Sleeping on the job stopped.

Productivity improved.
The mood lifted.
People saw that leadership was serious about standards.

Sometimes discipline, applied consistently and respectfully, creates stability that people actually crave.

The Takeaway

Culture doesn’t change with posters and speeches.

It changes when leaders remove the monuments to poor behavior.

Why This Matters

When standards are unclear or inconsistently enforced, people fill the gaps.

Visible, consistent leadership resets expectations and restores trust.

Ready to Reset Culture?

If inconsistent standards are holding your organization back, disciplined Kaizen can help reset expectations.

How I Accidently Became a Paid Speaker

Kaizen Snapshot

Setting: EPA Continuous Improvement Conference in San Francisco
Challenge: Transitioning from practitioner to professional speaker
Stakes: Personal credibility, brand growth, new opportunities
Approach: Coaching, preparation, value-driven content
Outcome: Paid keynote, workshops, expanded visibility
Key Lesson: Growth happens when you say yes before you feel ready

The Situation

I’ve spent decades in continuous improvement and nearly eight years as a business owner.

I’m known for Kaizen Ninja Facilitation and the Wheel of Sustainability, not for public speaking.

So when the EPA emailed me about speaking at their conference, I assumed it was a mistake.

What Was Getting in the Way

They found me through Google and the Gemba Academy podcast.

I was skeptical. They thought I spoke on sustainability. I don’t do environmental sustainability.

But curiosity won.

What We Did

I spoke with a professional speaker friend who coached me on pricing, scope, and positioning.

He gave me one piece of advice that stuck:

“Whatever price you set will feel too high to them.”

I proposed a fee. They negotiated. We agreed.

I also offered workshops and they accepted immediately.

The Moment on Stage

I prepared obsessively.

I opened with:

“I just read on the plane that the best speeches are 20 minutes or less—so I’ll be quiet for 70 minutes, then we’ll get started.”

They laughed. I relaxed.

The talk landed. Workshops were full. Conversations flowed.

What Changed

I realized something important:

People valued my perspective enough to pay for it.

And I enjoyed it.

The Takeaway

You don’t have to feel ready to take the next step.

You just have to be willing to step forward.

Why This Matters

Leaders often wait for perfect confidence before acting.

But confidence usually follows action, not the other way around.

Want Me to Speak or Work With Your Team?

If you’re looking for a speaker or facilitator who brings real-world Kaizen stories and practical frameworks:

What do you do when you’re the Industry Leader – you Improve!

Armstrong World Industries is the global leader in suspended ceilings. That might not seem like much to you, but when you sell over a billion square feet of ceiling tile and the grid to suspend it every year, you’re making a big impact in the construction and housing market.

One of the things that sets Armstrong apart is innovation and forward thinking in all of the things they do. Although other competitors are trying to influence building codes, Armstrong has the strongest presence and is leading the way in making sure office and other spaces are the healthiest, most energy efficient, and quietest they can be.

Paul, the head of codes and standards, was a big fan of my support to other areas of the technology department. We had many conversations on how Lean was helping his colleagues improve their processes and we often wondered how I could support his team’s efforts.

One day, we were talking about codes and standards and how Armstrong’s competitors were making inroads influencing the critical changes for building health and safety. Paul said it seemed Armstrong was losing its leadership position. People were participating on committees and submitting white papers, but weren’t moving the needle in the right direction. He felt we needed a breakthrough to retake our leadership position.

We both realized, almost at the same time, a strategy session could help drive the changes that would maintain our leadership presence. We agreed a Value Stream Mapping (VSM) session was the approach to take.

We plotted and planned. We chartered the event. We invited critical team members, including our internal customers, Sales and Marketing, manufacturing plant representatives, selected engineers and scientists, and members of Paul’s staff.

Our CEO kicked off the event and gave his support to the team. He told us what we were doing would be vital to the successful future for the company. No pressure at all! The team was enthusiastic and energized. But many of them wondered how using Value Stream Mapping would help them create a future that was any different than the path they were on.

There are two critical moments in any VSM event. The first is when you take a Gemba Walk (going to see) through your process. During this walk, the team saw many aspects of the current process that were overly complex and had opportunities for improvement. Many ideas were written down and shared.

The second critical moment happened when the team visibly mapped the current state process on a wall. There were so many steps and delays. There was waste and opportunity beyond anything they had imagined. Now that they could see it, they could do something about it. The ideas flowed even faster. There were so many things within the control of the team, and they prioritized the ideas they thought would make the most difference and could be implemented.

We built plans to attack the most impactful opportunities to drive codes and standards leadership. By the end of the week, we had a roadmap to distance ourselves from our competitors. Everybody won, as the changes would strengthen the health and safety of everyone who inhabits the office, school, and other business spaces. And, because of the alignment of the team and their sponsors, their customers would receive those benefits quickly.

Raising the bar for quality

Armstrong World Industries and Worthington Steel combined forces to create the number one ceiling grid manufacturer in the world. It didn’t start out that way, as employees of both companies were feeling their way through the combination of cultures.

I had been a team manager (shift supervisor) at our plant near Chicago. We shut down the plant and I moved to the Baltimore facility as the Industrial Engineering and Quality manager. It was a critical moment for our new company and my career. We had to establish ourselves as a quality leader, in order to build consumer confidence.

I spent many hours on the factory floor, understanding where we stood in regard to production reliability and quality control. We had each line leader measuring the grid that was being produced and comparing it to  product standard drawings. My early observations were that each person was interpreting the drawings differently and also measured based on their “feel” for the product. This meant somebody might think a product was within tolerance limits, even though the customer didn’t agree. This was reflected in a higher than industry standard return rate. We were at risk of losing customers unless we corrected our quality problems quickly.

I reviewed the product quality drawings and realized they were confusing and written for engineers, not production workers. Also, depending on how hard the measuring device was handled, people could make their measurements vary by up to .020” (twenty thousandths of an inch). This was a huge problem for ceiling grid, as tolerances could be as small as .010”.

I reviewed my plan with the plant manager. I would reformat the product quality drawings so they would be easy to understand and interpret as intended. At the same time, I would develop a measurement training program to help all employees measure the same way, with the same “feel.” I got approval for new measuring equipment, that was more repeatable and accurate than what we currently had at the plant. I was off and running.

I did an informal survey of many of the production technicians to help me understand how to format the product quality drawings to be easily understood by them. Specifically, I wanted them to understand the tolerance limits for any critical measurement. Previously, an example measurement would say 24.025” +/- 0.15”. This forced employees to add and subtract and sometimes make errors. Through their feedback, I changed all measurements to look like this (for the prior example): 24.010” – 24.040”. Now there was no confusion. As long as the measurement was within the range shown, it was a good product.

There were literally dozens, if not hundreds of drawings to correct, so I prioritized my work by the products that ran the most frequently first. Then, time permitting, I would correct the lower frequency products. Sometimes, I would have to change my process, as a rare product would be ordered, and we didn’t want to take the chance it would be measured incorrectly.

Now it was time to improve measurement reliability. Some people had a “hard” hand, meaning they would squeeze the measuring device against the bar of grid with much force. Others had a “soft” touch, meaning they barely touched the bar with the measuring device. I had to come up with another way to consistently find the correct measurement and then verify the variation between operators would be acceptable.

After many tests and trials, I developed the 2-step touch technique. Basically, the technician would squeeze the measuring device to find the bar, then back it off, and then bring it back to just “touch.”

No matter how hard or soft a hand people had, they were very consistent when it came to the second touch. In fact, the variation between operators was reduced from .020” to .003”. I instituted an audit and follow-up process to ensure we sustained our consistent measuring technique.

Over time our returns rate was reduced drastically, and we became the number one grid producer in the world. I learned that systems must be designed for the people who use them, rather than the people who create them.

Never tell someone their baby’s ugly

I have been influenced by many pop-culture references over the years. During my Kaizen events, words or phrases come out of my mouth that are my attempt to make the situation relatable to the team and make them feel better about the situation they’re in and the problem they’re facing. I want them to realize it’s not the first time something bad happened in business and their problems aren’t insurmountable. I wasn’t always this way – maybe you can learn from my mistakes!

Many years ago, I was taking a Gemba walk with a team from Armstrong’s Pensacola plant. During the walk, I saw build-up, dirt, and clutter on and around the production equipment. It really bothered me and I said out loud, “we should be ashamed of the way we are maintaining and operating our equipment.” I was immediately taken off to the side by the plant Lean manager and told I shouldn’t say these things out loud. I, of course, got respectfully defensive. Not really. I said, “Look at the state of the equipment. What does it say about how we feel about our employees, by setting such a bad example of leadership expectations?”

That didn’t sit well, and he walked me to the Plant Manager’s office. We had a mostly one-sided conversation. I was told I needed to watch my words and not make people feel bad about their working conditions. It wasn’t productive and brought down the mood of the team.

To this day, I still feel the same way about difficult working conditions, but I don’t speak my feelings out loudin front of the team. Instead, I think about how to get them to see their situation as unacceptable and motivate them to do something about it.

I am reminded of one of my favorite Seinfeld episodes, “The Hamptons.” The gang (Jerry, George, Kramer, and Elaine) goes to the Hamptons to see the new baby of their mutual friends, Carol and Michael. The baby is so ugly that upon seeing him, Kramer does an exaggerated double-take and says the little girl looks like Lyndon Johnson, who wasn’t attractive. The rest of the episode is about the gang trying to not make the parents feel bad about their baby. Hilarious, but it shares a parallel with my approach to improvement teams.

I want my team to see their baby, their process, as ugly, and then do something to it to make it beautiful. The way I do it now is to show an outrageous photo from the internet (there are so many of them) of a group of people doing something obviously unsafe. When I show the photo, I have the team members describe the safety risks they see. There are obvious ones, such as don’t put a ladder on top of another ladder  on the forks of a forklift, in order to change a light bulb  thirty feet in the air.

After they laugh at the absurdity of the photo (many of these are real situations), I point out the people doing the work think what they’re doing is ok and if we were to tell them we think it’s unsafe, they would probably run us off or worse. Then I tell the story of the Seinfeld episode and make the analogy that we can’t call the baby “ugly.” Once we make that connection, I tell them by the end of the Kaizen event, we will see our original process as the “ugly baby” and our job is to turn it into something beautiful we can be proud of.

This approach has improved the alignment and engagement of the team and has kept me from making my team members feel bad about their processes. By the end of the week, they’re talking about how they made their baby a beauty to behold and they own the changes that made that transformation.

The Ship that Didn’t Sail

Sometimes, even though you know you could help a prospect, they don’t feel the same way. This is one of those stories about my inability to create alignment with a business leader.

I was referred to a yacht brokerage by the CEO of CITY Furniture and after a few months was able to set up a meeting with their CEO. We seemed aligned around my approach and soon he invited me to visit him at his business during one of my upcoming trips to Florida.

We met for dinner the evening before the official visit. He brought his second in command along and we quickly found common ground and shared stories about past work and personal adventures. When dinner was over, we parted ways and I was excited at the possibilities of helping a company who was focused on something I had zero experience with: yacht sales brokering. My only experience with yachting is the old Looney Tunes cartoon, where Bugs Bunny convinces Elmer Fudd that he’s “Elmer J. Fudd, millionaire, who owns a mansion and a yacht.”

The next morning, I met the CEO at his office, and he introduced me to his staff. Throughout the day, I had meaningful conversations with many of the people who worked there and learned about the biggest pain points they were facing. These included:

• The lack of overall aligning metrics across the business – how did they know if they were winning?

• The complexity and length of time it took to close a yacht sale – many of these transactions included more than one country, which multiplied the effort immensely.

• Utilizing the in-house resources to identify and solve problems – this business was family operated and run by a few trusted executives. Others did their work to the best of their ability but didn’t get to make empowered decisions or changes.

I knew I could help, if only I could convince the CEO he could cede control of some critical decisions and let his employees be part of the improvement efforts.

He seemed interested and by the end of the day showed what I thought was a desire to operate his business differently in the future. We left with a plan to reconnect and develop a path forward.

Except that it never happened. I stayed in touch with the CEO for a while, but then realized my approach wasn’t aligned with his vision of how work should get accomplished. Even though he never told me directly, I knew he wouldn’t pursue further meetings with me. It would have been a huge leap of faith for him, and my image of continuous improvement couldn’t overcome years of management-engrained behaviors.

My approach isn’t for everyone. I have to understand that even though I know I can help many of the prospects I visit, they don’t always see it the same way as I do. Maybe I’ll get on a yacht one of these days. It would be fun to pretend to be “Elmer J. Fudd, millionaire.” Until then, I’ll continue to navigate the seas of change for clients, steering them in new and unchartered directions, knowing that if they’re willing, I can help bring them to a great destination.  

Surviving a Brutal Work Environment

I have experienced two mergers/joint ventures in my corporate career at Armstrong. The first one was a ceiling grid venture between Worthington Industries and Armstrong. It was extremely positive and productive and is still doing well to this day. The second one was a ceramic tile venture between Armstrong’s American Olean Tile and Dal-Tile, based out of Dallas Texas. This one didn’t go nearly as well. I learned many lessons from the Dal-Tile experience, mainly about my ability to survive.

When the “merger” was announced, I investigated other opportunities for my career, including a chance to go back to Thomasville Furniture as an assistant plant manager in Winston Salem, and an offer to do work at Armstrong’s corporate center. My recent experience with the Worthington and Armstrong joint venture was positive and I learned a lot at the beginning of the venture, so I thought I would see a similar approach to this combination of companies. Boy was I wrong.

Our Plant manager left us without saying a word. We only found out a week or so later he had gone to the Dal-Tile headquarters to prepare for the merger through a mysterious sounding voicemail. On the official first day of the merger, executives came to our plant and told the acting plant manager he had to fire five staff members by the end of the day.

I was the industrial engineering manager at the plant, and the only way I survived was that I was named as a supervisor. Dal-Tile only staffed their plants with plant managers, supervisors, and ceramics engineers. Any other staff was excess in their view.

I took the supervisory role because I was promised a job at the corporate headquarters in Dallas Texas. My favorite manager from American Olean would be my manager in Dal-Tile corporate. Even though things were challenging at the plant, I had something exciting to look forward to.

When I got to Dallas Texas, I found out we were in charge of assuring environmental, health, safety, and mining compliance across the entire company. There was a department responsible for this already. But they weren’t very helpful to the manufacturing and mining sites. The VP of operations put us in the middle of the plants and them.

We tried to work with the existing EHS and mining group, but they went to great lengths to avoid us. One time, my manager and I walked over to their offices to meet with them impromptu. Instead of meeting with us, they locked their offices and refused to talk with us. What a culture!

Another thing Dal-Tile was proud of was their firing practices. The employee manual started off with a paragraph explaining that Texas was an “at-will” state, which meant they could fire you at any moment, with or without justification. This was on the first page of the manual! I met many people who had been fired and then re-hired and then fired again. Amazing.

I knew the only way I was going to survive this brutal culture was to make myself as valuable and helpful as possible. I took every assignment, put in outrageous hours, and traveled at the drop of a hat, to support any of our twelve manufacturing facilities and multiple mining sites.

I had good relationships with the plant staff. Once they got to know me, they trusted me. They didn’t trust the EHS and mining group, that was for sure. They knew when I arrived, I would be there to help. Nothing more and nothing less.

I had many amazing experiences I would never have had in a more positive working environment. But, after 18 months, I was free to return to Armstrong (there was an agreement that we were off limits for that period of time). I made a few calls and was able to join the corporate group in Lancaster, working for the same manager I followed to Texas. He had left a month or so earlier and was able to convince his manager to hire me.

When I returned to Armstrong, I realized most people wouldn’t believe how we were treated at Dal-Tile. They never experienced a brutal corporate culture. So, I kept the stories to myself or commiserated with those few who survived their time in Dallas Texas and returned to Armstrong like me. Very few made it through unscathed. Those that did had some scars from the battles we fought but were also proud that we made it.

To this day, Dal-Tile is my example of “if you think your job is bad, check this out.” No one should be treated the way we were. Because of this, I really appreciate what I have and my determination to survive.

Do Your Due Diligence

Midway through my corporate career, I was a senior industrial engineer at Armstrong World Industries. I spent most of my time providing support to our many manufacturing facilities all over the world. I have always been fascinated by manufacturing and it never ceases to amaze me how good (and bad) decisions can immediately impact performance.

I thought I would someday be a plant manager and told my manager I wanted the opportunity to take the next step to get me there, as a business unit manager. I thought all my continuous improvement experience would serve me well and I would make more good decisions than bad ones.

One day, the week before Easter, my manager informed me that the plant manager at the Lancaster flooring plant wanted to talk to me about a position in his plant. I was excited for two reasons. One was my opportunity to learn manufacturing from the inside. The other was it would be a two-grade promotion. More money was never a bad thing, or so I thought!

I met Rob, the plant manager, on the Friday before Easter weekend. The plant wasn’t running, but he gave me a short tour of the areas I would be responsible for. All of the hourly workers were gone and I never met anyone on the staff. I thought it was odd, but I was enamored with the idea of the next step towards plant manager.

At the end of the tour, Rob offered me the job and told me that he wanted my answer by the end of the weekend. Even though I knew my answer, I told him I would talk things over with my family and get back with him on Monday morning.

I really didn’t think too much about it. I knew I was going to take the job. My wife was supportive and knew this new role would keep me home more. But the hours were going to be long. It was a tradeoff, but it seemed like the right choice to make. I did mention it was odd that I hadn’t met anyone during the tour, but tried not to read too much into it.

On Monday, I called Rob and told him I would take the job. My manager and I agreed on a transition plan, as I had some projects to wrap up or hand over to others. For the next four weeks, I tried to do both jobs, spending half of my time at my new factory, watching the staff conduct business.

One week before I started my new job full-time, Rob was promoted and left the plant. His replacement wouldn’t arrive for six more weeks. In addition, my counterpart in the factory who ran a different business had a three-week National Guard deployment. I would essentially be on my own, learning as I went.

I had a staff, but they didn’t know me. I also had the vice president of manufacturing to discuss issues with, should things get out of hand. I really didn’t want to have to use his support, but there were a few times that I had to. There were some union/management issues to be resolved and I didn’t have the historical perspective to help me out. So, I swallowed my pride and met with the VP. He was very helpful and supportive. He understood my lack of experience.

For the next few weeks, I barely survived. Finally, my counterpart came back and helped me deal with some issues and then our new plant manager arrived. Things got better, but they were tough. This plant had been in decline for many years and the management and union relationship was strained, to say the least. I did my best to improve things throughout my two years as business unit manager.

Would I have chosen a different path if I had known what was in front of me? Maybe. More likely, I would have tried to gain perspective on what I was agreeing to well before accepting the job. It would have eliminated some of my early bad decisions. It was an amazing learning experience. I like to think I gained twenty years of experience during my time on the job.

Leadership Commitment in a Most Challenging Situation

Last year, Dave, a network connection, reached out to me to see if I could help him in his continuous improvement journey. His wife had worked with me at Armstrong, and one evening he was talking with her about some of his frustrations at work. She said, “If you want to get the right help, call Adam. He is tenacious and won’t let you or your team fail.”

Dave invited me to his factory, which was quite large and had several furnaces that smelted and poured molten metal into ingots for high value customers. They had a problem with tools and equipment going missing, which led to significant productivity losses. He wanted to reinitiate and strengthen their 5S program. I knew I could help, and wrote a proposal for the work, which was approved quickly.

We scheduled the Kaizen event for eight weeks from my initial visit. This would allow Dave to prepare leadership and gather the proper team for the Kaizen. We had already chartered and scoped the event to cover one of the furnaces. Our idea was that our improvements could be replicated to the other furnaces in the facility.

In the meantime, I spent a day at the facility getting required safety training and preparing Dave for the event. We picked a conference room and identified the supplies necessary during the week.

Three days before the Kaizen event, Dave called to tell me he had contracted COVID. I asked him if he wanted to postpone the Kaizen. He told me no and if I could pick up the supplies from his home (in his driveway), one of the team members would fill in as team leader until he could participate at the facility. He would use Zoom to attend and participate on the first day of the Kaizen. His five-day isolation period would then end, and he could attend in person on the second day, but would have to wear a mask.

I wasn’t sure what to make of this. All my Kaizen events (up to that time) were in-person, and I didn’t really know how engaged Dave could be attending virtually. But I was willing to give it a try and make the best of it.

On the Sunday before kick-off, I met Lisa, who was going to fill in for Dave as team leader. She helped me prepare the meeting room. We talked about how we could engage all team members, including Dave on the first day of the Kaizen. We set up a laptop for Dave that we could point toward the team and the screen, so that he could engage with the team and keep up with the discussions. Luckily, he and I had spent time in the workspace, so he had a list of ideas to share during that portion of the Kaizen.

At kick-off on Monday, we introduced everyone and shared Dave’s story and said we were going to make the best of a difficult situation. For Dave’s part, he stayed on Zoom the entire time, engaging and speaking with the group at appropriate moments. When we went out to the facility floor, Dave waited for us to text him that we were returning to the meeting room. The team had many ideas and Dave was able to share his as well. When we prioritized the many ideas into a vital few, Dave was able to participate as if he were in the room. We took the laptop over to the list of ideas and Lisa voted on Dave’s behalf.

Now it was time to work on the high priority projects. Dave couldn’t really do that, so he signed off until we met to wrap up for the day. He listened intently to the team’s progress and gave them encouragement and told them he couldn’t wait to come in the next day and help them in their work.

The second day, Dave showed up with a facemask and kept his distance from the team members. He jumped on one of the project teams and was able to participate in the improvement work. Throughout the week, the team felt more comfortable letting Dave engage in the work and by the end of the week, he was able to help complete many critical tasks.

At the end of the week, the team had made significant improvements to their furnace area. We did a quick estimate on the impact on productivity and changeovers and felt we had made a huge impact on both. Time would tell, of course. For his part, Dave earned the respect of the team and had his first true win in his position as Continuous Improvement Manager. I was impressed by his dedication and commitment and was thankful we didn’t have to postpone or cancel this Kaizen event. I also learned it was possible to engage remote team members in Kaizen events.

Carrying a Heavy Weight on My Shoulders

When you are in the heat of battle, you don’t realize the toll it’s taking on your health. I was the business unit manager for a vinyl flooring operation for Armstrong World Industries for two years. During that time, we were in a continual state of downsizing. This didn’t help the relationship with our union. It seemed like everything we tried to do to improve safety, cost, quality, or customer service was met with resistance.

Because our business was shrinking, we were under constant pressure to reduce costs. It wasn’t unusual for upper management to threaten your job or to be told if you couldn’t get it done, someone else would be happy to take your place.

I decided the best course of action was to open a dialogue with our shop steward, lay out the situation, and work together to make the best decisions for our employees. For the first few months, he spoke with me, but little changed in our relationship. I was as transparent with him as possible, explaining the business environment and the reasons for the changes we were making. He didn’t trust me. Apparently, prior managers had burned him a few times and he wasn’t willing to forgive and forget what had happened.

We got to a point where traditional operating schedules weren’t practical for the amount of production we were required to make. We needed to make sure everyone had equal opportunity to work full-time, but providing a 40-hour workweek required us to rotate some of our established crews and revise our overtime policies.

I knew I couldn’t do this on my own. It was going to be complicated and if anyone made errors in assigning overtime, we’d be open to employee grievances and back pay. We couldn’t afford that. I called a meeting with the shop steward and my staff. I laid out the situation and my desire to be equitable for all remaining employees (we had to lay off some of our employees, which didn’t improve people’s moods).

In the past, when everyone worked a traditional schedule, overtime was offered by seniority. If the most senior employee didn’t want overtime, the next most-senior employee was offered the opportunity. This continued until someone accepted the overtime assignment. In our new schedule, it wasn’t going to be obvious who should be offered the overtime.

The group argued for a while, and I realized it would be too easy to make a mistake offering overtime unless we came up with a set of rules we all agreed to. I said I’d take a crack at it, and we could meet again to review my efforts.

After much deliberation and advice from others, I developed a table showing the various schedules and twelve situations where overtime might be required. The idea was to check each situation in order and once you found the correct situation, it told you how to assign overtime.

It was complicated, but the team only found a few flaws that would leave us open to grievances. Once corrected, everyone agreed that if we followed it, it would be a fair approach to assigning overtime. Besides, it was so complicated most people wouldn’t understand it well enough to file grievances.

Once our shop steward saw I was fully including him in our processes and wasn’t trying to take advantage of anyone, our relationship changed. Not outwardly to the rest of the employees, as he still had to play the role of “management buster.” But we collaborated often on critical issues.

Five days after I transferred back to a corporate role, I was cutting my lawn. My neighbor came over and stopped me to say, “You look different.” I never realized that all the stress of my job was easily seen by everyone but me.

The Littlest Negotiator

There is always a compromise that can be made. You just must know what you want and figure out how it will benefit both parties. I have been negotiating since as far back as I remember. Sometimes it was bedtime, eating my dinner, or putting off homework to go outside and play. Parents don’t typically cherish those negotiations and kids rarely win (at least I didn’t most of the time).

I started collecting coins and baseball cards when I was three years old. Early on, I was able to convince other collectors (kids) that what I was offering was more enticing (or valuable) for them than what I was asking for in return. I don’t think it was always true, but it seemed to me both sides were getting what they wanted (or at least thought they wanted).

My uncle Morrie ran Zerns Farmers’ Market in eastern Pennsylvania. We used to visit him and my Aunt Adeline on their “gentleman’s farm” every summer. Uncle Morrie was a shrewd businessman, and he loved to tell stories of the amazing deals he made throughout his career. I was intrigued, and by the time I was eight, I was asking him questions that led him to think that there might be a little entrepreneur he could develop.

He was particularly interested in my love of coins. He didn’t think there was money to be made in baseball cards. This was the 1970s, after all. He told me there were three coin dealers at the farmers’ market and suggested I try to get something I wanted from them at a reduced price. “Never pay full price,” he told me.

He took me to the market and walked with me to the first coin dealer. I had ten dollars to spend. Uncle Morrie asked, “Do you see anything you like?” I told him I did, but I couldn’t afford it. It was priced at fifteen dollars. He said to the dealer, “My name is Morris Lipton, and I run this farmers’ market. I’d like to introduce you to my nephew, Adam.”

The coin dealer told me I could have the coin I coveted for ten dollars. I couldn’t believe it – he took five dollars off of the price. On subsequent trips, Uncle Morrie would walk with me to the coin dealers and encourage me to ask for a better price. I didn’t always get my price, but more often than not, I did. This built my confidence, and I learned how to determine a price that suited me, ask respectfully for it, be willing to hear the word “no,” and know when to walk away from a deal that didn’t suit me.

Eventually, I went to the various coin and baseball card dealers without Uncle Morrie by my side. I think some of them recognized me. But others were willing to negotiate with a child who was confident, respectful, and informed.

To this day, I use the same principles in all my dealings with vendors, suppliers, and customers. I understand when somebody wants to negotiate with me on my services as well. These principles have served me well and I believe they can help you too. Be willing to ask. You are more likely to get what you want if you do.

Go to the Source to Get the Correct Information

I was working at the American Olean ceramic tile facility in Olean, New York as the Industrial Engineering manager when we merged with Dal-Tile. I was offered a position as an industrial engineer at the corporate offices in Dallas, Texas. I was very impressed with the manager who I was going to report to, so I took the opportunity and moved my family south.

When I arrived, I learned our mission was to improve factory environmental, health and safety (EHS) compliance across twelve facilities in the United States. Although there was an EHS department, they weren’t hands-on or helpful for the facility managers. My manager and I would function as internal consultants and help improve the approach, relationships, and overall performance.

I had no prior experience in EHS and attended many workshops and training sessions with the EPA,  OSHA, and other agencies. We took tours of every plant and identified areas where we could help. Our focus was on annual safety training and environmental and safety reporting.

Over time, we built strong relationships with plant management at all locations, and they came to trust our work and invited us to help frequently. So much so, I got assigned the submission of the annual environmental reports for all facilities.

There were twelve reports that were all due at the same time. There were different requirements based on the state the facility was located in. Reading through all twelve documents, I noticed many similarities and some critical differences. With one month to go, I created a plan to complete all reports properly and on time. I would be signing each report and would be legally bound for completeness and correctness for the next seven years. I wasn’t willing to take any chances.

The first step I identified was to understand each form. Although I thought I knew what most of the questions meant, I decided it would be better to confirm my interpretations. The best way I knew was to call the state agencies and ask for assistance.

I started making calls, and invariably, was not able to reach a live person most of the time. I left many messages at most agencies. I put a sticky note on each report I had a question on and waited (and waited) for my calls to be returned.

When a call finally came, the first thing I did was ask the person what state they were calling from. Then, I pulled out the report for that state. Looking at the sticky note, I knew what I had to confirm. From there, getting the information was simple. Most state workers were happy to help me fill out their form, beyond my first question(s). They had a vested interest in completeness and accuracy and weren’t used to people asking for help. They were more familiar with fixing problems after it was too late.

I learned that these agencies work for us, the public. But some people don’t see it that way and think they’ll get in trouble for asking questions. I’m convinced it’s the best way to get these critical tasks done and avoid errors. I was able to complete all twelve reports on time, to the best of my ability and knowledge, and sign each document. Many years later, I am confident I provided the proper information to every agency. I also feel better knowing that the seven-year statute of limitations has expired.

Perfection Isn’t Always a Good Idea

In the 1980’s, Thomasville Furniture was the market leader in high-end furniture. They were extremely focused on process improvement in all areas of the business. I worked on a staff of industrial engineers. Each of us supported one or more of the many manufacturing facilities. We were tasked with finding ways to improve safety, quality, productivity, and customer service.

One of my colleagues worked at the plant that made tables and chairs. They took great pride in the finish of their tabletops. To achieve the desired look, many workers used powered sanding and rubbing devices. It was an extremely labor-intensive process. We had many muscle strains as a result from all the hand sanding and rubbing to get the desired look.

We heard about companies using robots to reduce labor intensity and safety risk. It seemed like an opportunity for us. If we could figure out how to get robots to sand and rub each tabletop, we could realize significant labor cost reduction and eliminate one of our top safety risks.

My colleague, Frank, connected with a robot supplier who brought in some of his robots for a 30-day “test drive.” The first few weeks were spent teaching the robots how to find the surface and perimeter of the table, apply the proper pressure, and cover the entire surface of the table consistently.

Eventually, they were able to achieve their objectives. The robot was able to sand and achieve a rubbed finish on the tabletops, without human intervention. The tabletops looked great. We were ready to roll out robots to take over the sanding and rubbing process.

Before fully committing to the robots, they decided to show the results to a focus group, to get their reactions to the results. The feedback was surprising. Initially, the group loved the finish and look of the tables. In fact, they said the finish was better than anything they had ever seen. But, after more review and conversation, there was something that bothered them. A series of questions drew out the issue: the tops were too perfect. There was no variation across the surface. We had lost the “handmade” look and feel of the furniture. Instead, the lack of variation made the tables look mechanically made, plastic, or unreal.

We couldn’t give up the thing that made Thomasville Furniture a market leader. Frank and his team went back to the robot vendor to see if he could program variability into the process. After many attempts, they gave up. The technology at the time wouldn’t allow the robots to randomize the pressures applied across the tabletops.

The team removed the robots and returned to the time-tested approach to hand sand and finish tables. Over time, robot technology improved, but it was never given another chance at Thomasville Furniture. Instead, we worked on ways to simplify and reduce the safety risk of hand finishing tables.

An Unlucky Break

Critical problems seem to happen over a holiday weekend when there is less coverage. For me, Thanksgiving provided many challenges. Early in my career, I had to come into the ceramic tile factory the day after Thanksgiving to supervise a crew trying to clear a jam in the kiln. Many years later, a water main in St. Helens Oregon broke and shut down the ceiling tile plant. Once again, I was the one covering, and had to respond quickly and deal with a near disaster.

I got a call late on Thanksgiving night. The plant had been running very well, and then water stopped flowing. In ceiling tile manufacturing, water is the main ingredient. Ceiling board starts out as 98% water, then as it passes over vacuum and then through a 400-foot dryer, the water is removed. If too much water is removed prior to the dryer, the crew must dump all materials into a pit located prior to the dryer and hope the water comes back on before the pit fills up. It can be messy and difficult to recover from.

The water didn’t come back on. The pit filled up. The crew shut the plant down and was cleaning up a big mess. Some of the material had entered the dryer and they were using 14-foot-long rakes to clear the jammed material out of the dryer.

I arrived at 10 pm and joined the crew. Nobody knew what caused the water to shut off. The EHS (environmental, health, and safety) manager was out of town. I had to figure out who to contact with the city. There was a Rolodex on her desk (I had no access to her computer). In it, I found the number of the city manager. To my surprise, he answered his phone immediately.

He told me the main water line had burst and water had to be shut off for all residences and businesses. He was trying to use back-up systems to get water on for the residents first. I reminded him we employed almost 200 people at our plant and without water we couldn’t operate. I asked him to keep me updated as they brought their back-up water system on line. He said he would and considered us a priority, as we were the number one employer in the area.

I stayed most of the night and helped the crew clean up the mess. We developed a plan for what to do when the water situation was resolved. It wasn’t just the water that we worried about, but also the pressure with which it was delivered. At too high a pressure, it could damage sensitive equipment in our process. I had several calls with the city manager and he assured me he’d let us know when the water was scheduled to be turned back on.

Except he didn’t. All of the sudden, water pressure went up and we thought we were in business again. We started up and began making ceiling board. And then the water was shut off again with no warning. I placed a call and asked the city manager to give us a warning when the next attempt to start the water system would occur. He assured me he would this time. But again, he didn’t. We devised our own plan. We watched our water meters and sent a crew member to monitor the valves in the basement of the process.

For the next 2 days, we played the “start and stop” game with the water. This kept the damage to the process and product at a minimum. In the middle of the third day, the water stayed on, and we could operate as normal.

We learned a valuable lesson about contingency planning: the more you can control in an “uncontrollable” situation, the better.

A Challenging Place to Work

During Armstrong’s Lean transformation, we took many benchmarking trips to learn from companies that were further along in their Lean journeys. One memorable trip included visits to Boeing and Nucor Steel in South Carolina on an extremely hot day in July.

At the Boeing plant, we were amazed by the one million square feet of air-conditioned space where the newest Dreamliners were being assembled. These amazing aircraft were filled with the latest technologies and miles of wiring. Using Lean principles, everything came together in a choreographed way. The area was bright, everyone wore clean clothes, and no one looked like they didn’t know what to do. At the end of the tour, we were escorted through a gift shop and many of our attendees bought souvenirs to take home with them.

Our next stop was Nucor Steel. As we walked into the facility, the environmental contrast with Boeing was stark. It was dark, dirty, and hot. No air conditioning to be found. The Lean approach was almost the same as at Boeing. People were clearly aligned around critical metrics. They were following standard work, and everyone knew what was most important during their workdays.

We entered the furnace control room (which was air-conditioned) and were shown many cameras and monitoring devices that assured the steel wouldn’t have any contaminants. Everyone’s pay and bonus was dependent on the amount of quality tons of steel produced during the day. This aligning metric kept everyone focused on the most important thing their customer valued.

From the control room, I watched a worker on the deck of the furnace wearing a Tyvek suit. He was using a ladle to take a sample of molten steel to test its purity. As hot as it was in the plant, wearing a Tyvek suit had to add to the discomfort of his task. To make matters worse, there was a hole where the molten steel was sampled from. The heat coming off it almost pushed me back when I walked by.

I had to believe this task was one where workers rotated throughout the day, as no one could take the heat for extended periods of time. When I asked our tour guide about the job, he told me it was a high paying position. People in the plant coveted it. They would work anywhere from 8 to 12 hours a day.

I couldn’t believe it was humanly possible to survive a full day doing that job! I would’ve passed out in the first hour. Surely this was a mistake. I was told I could speak with the technician in-between the samples he was taking. My curiosity was strong, and I asked him about his experience. He told me it was his favorite job in the plant. He was assuring their customers were getting the highest quality steel possible. He did admit it was extremely hot, but he was used to it, having worked there for three years. I thanked him and rejoined the tour group, my mind blown.

As we walked out of the plant to our cars, I was struck by the cooling wind outside. It wasn’t until I saw the car register 103 degrees that I realized just how hot it was in the plant and the extreme lengths people go through to do their jobs.

All Night Long

Admit it. After reading the title of this story, some of you are hearing the famous Lionel Richie song in your head. This story isn’t about that, but rather it concerns a challenging Kaizen event I recently facilitated for CITY Furniture. The business problem we were trying to solve was a series of computer programs that ran after all showrooms closed each evening. There was a period of time where no revenue could be generated through their e-commerce website, until all programs completed their reconciliations. Our goal was to cut the time by 75%, so that we could free up overnight revenue generation.

I’m an early riser and am typically in bed by 10 pm each evening. My wife says I take my “pre-sleep” nap from 8 pm to 10 pm. This Kaizen event would be held overnight, as our Gemba (the work that we needed to see) happened between 9 pm and 1:30 am. I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to make it through the night.

I met with the team leader to prepare weeks before the kick-off. We agreed to start the Kaizen event at 7 pm Sunday and work through the night for four out of five days. Then, we’d take one day off to adjust our sleep schedule and rotate to day shift. Report out was scheduled for 3 pm on Friday.

I normally fly in to Ft. Lauderdale on the Sunday before the Kaizen starts. Due to starting on Sunday, I knew I couldn’t take any chances and had to figure out how to get proper sleep prior to the event. I flew in on Saturday, got some dinner, and went directly to sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night. Somehow, I was able to go back to sleep.

After Sunday breakfast, I did some work, and took a short nap. At 5 pm, I met my team leader. We set up the meeting room and discussed the Kaizen plan. She was excited to tackle this critical business problem and had assembled a diverse team of highly skilled programmers and managers. They arrived at 6:30 pm for dinner. Afterwards, we kicked off the Kaizen. Our sponsor, the chief information officer (CIO), demonstrated his leadership commitment by staying overnight with the team and participating as a full team member.

After getting to know each other and reviewing Lean topics, we walked downstairs to watch a showroom close. We saw so much waiting and paperwork being generated. We knew there was opportunity for improvement. Then, we walked back upstairs to the meeting room and proceeded to watch the computer programs do their thing. It may have been the longest four and a half hours of my life.

The team was enthralled by what they saw and wrote many ideas on Post-its™. It looked like a lot of gibberish to me. I kept telling myself all that mattered was team members seeing waste and opportunities. I had to stay awake at all costs. It would look bad for the facilitator to fall asleep during the Kaizen!

Mercifully, the Gemba walk through the computer programs ended and I stayed awake. Ninety-two minutes became our baseline for the program reconciliations that kept the e-commerce revenue from being generated. Now it was time to Value Stream map the process, identify pain points, waste, and finally, the ideas to reduce the time it took to complete the reconciliations.

The team generated many ideas and picked three they believed would drive the time down significantly and could be completed during the week. We adjourned at 4:30 am Monday morning and agreed to reconvene at 8:30 pm Monday evening.

I went back to the hotel, surprised I didn’t feel sleepy, but that was due to adrenaline. Four hours later, I woke up. I decided to exercise and work on other projects. Then, I took an afternoon nap. Returning on Monday evening, team members were excited to work on their projects. They broke out into three sub-teams and got to their work, which was all on the computer. I felt useless, but they were fully engaged. From time to time, we’d reconvene and share project status and problem solve. On Tuesday morning, the team decided they didn’t need to work through the night anymore and that we’d take a 27-hour break, reconvening at 8 am on Wednesday morning.

Now it was time to reestablish my normal sleep pattern at the hotel. I slept almost as soon as my head hit the pillow at 6 am. I woke up at 10 am. Now what was I going to do? I got up, showered, exercised, and ate lunch. Then, I worked on other things for a few hours. I decided I should stay awake until at least 9 pm. Time went by slowly, but I made it. I went to bed, and woke up around 4 am. That had to be good enough.

Everyone seemed happier to be working in the daytime. Team members felt they were making programming changes that could be implemented by the end of the day. They installed the changes to see how the system would react on Wednesday night. On Thursday morning, we learned the program ran faster than ever previously recorded. Our 92-minute process was now taking 57 minutes, a significant impact to the system. They had more changes in mind that would reduce time, but those would have to wait for the weeks following the Kaizen event.

The report out was well attended, and our sponsor remarked the initial results had saved the company considerable money. The team has implemented a follow-up process, with meetings every two weeks. The time continues to come down and our sponsor is now ready to tackle another critical business problem in his department.

Five Lessons from My First Five Years in Business

On May 15, 2018, I registered Process Improvement Partners LLC as an official business. Since then, I have had so many adventures, made lots of mistakes, and hopefully learned from many of them!

As the saying goes, hindsight is 20/20. In the spirit of continuous improvement, I have been challenged by a peer to share my top five lessons from my first five years in business (thanks Stephanie!)

ONE: Focus on meaningful relationships, not vanity metrics.

Truly valuing and connecting with the people in your network is way more important than how many followers, views, likes, and comments. Be sure to focus on what really “moves the needle” for you, and this will look different for everyone. Bottomline: you can't fake caring. If you can help even one person, you are doing important work.

TWO: This is a marathon, not a sprint.

It takes time to build up a following that values what you do and how you can help. I used to think the next activity or post would get someone to do business with me. Now, I realize people want to feel comfortable with you and the value you bring. It takes time, but once it happens, meaningful engagements follow.

THREE: Alignment is vital to a great working relationship.

The work I do is narrowly focused and isn't for everybody. I want to and should work with clients that value my approach and are ready for it. I stopped chasing money and started looking for people I can help and want me to help the way I provide value. If you like fast, sustainable results, I'm your guy!

FOUR: Experiment, experiment, and experiment some more.

I have tried writing (a book, no less), podcast interviews, speaking engagements, paid advertising, and many other things. I always learn from those experiences and know there are many more in my future. I am pretty sure that I won't write another book (never say never), but I'm glad I did. If it helps just one person, it was worth it. And I learned I can do it!

FIVE: Pay close attention, or you might miss an important opportunity.

It's easy to gloss over the last "like" on a post and just chalk it up to someone just being kind. But that person might need my help, so reaching out to someone who is engaging with my content is never a bad idea. In fact, one time it led to a meaningful business relationship. I don't follow up on every post engagement, but I definitely should!

I read that most businesses fail in the first five years, and I can believe it. Having your own business is challenging work and it's not for the faint of heart. Luckily, I have an incredible and supportive family and network. I thank you all for giving me the opportunity to serve you and look forward to many more years of doing so.

Three Principles for Funding

During my time living on the west coast, I wanted to give back to the community. Many of the staff at the St. Helens, Oregon plant participated in some way or another with the United Way of Columbia County. I was intrigued. I had participated in many United Way Days of Caring during my time in Pennsylvania.

The plant manager had been the Chairman of the Board of Directors for the local chapter, and she suggested that I volunteer on their Board in some way. I liked the idea and once I met the people in charge of the United Way, I knew I had found my place.

There were three ladies who did most of the work. They were working out an old school building that had been donated for their use and other community activities. They had a very limited budget, but they were able to get many things donated so they could touch many areas of the community without spending huge sums of money.

They accepted me onto the Board of Directors, and I had to figure out how I could best help them. I went out on many outreach efforts and noticed that no matter how much money or time we had, it was never enough.

During our annual preparation for the upcoming budget year, I noticed there were more requests for funding than the United Way could handle. It was apparent every request had merit and the board members wanted to fund everything. That would be impossible, of course. We had to come up with a way to narrow the requests for funding down to the highest priority for the allocation of resources. Now I knew how I could help.

I offered to facilitate the annual budgeting meeting and created an agenda to help make the tough decisions on what to fund and what to deny. I got each board member to name their top focus for funding and then using a prioritization technique called “multi-voting” I was able to help align everyone around the three top priorities for United Way funding:

1. Early childhood education – starting kids out on the right foot early sets them up for success in later years.

2. Food security – provide meals to those who cannot provide for themselves.

3. Home security – giving everyone a roof over their heads every day.

Once we identified these priorities, we could allocate funding to those requests that were aligned with them. Anything that didn’t fit the top three would have to be funded in another way. It made a difficult message easier to support and share. We were clear in our principles and the reasoning behind them.

For the next few years, we checked back in our priorities and adjusted where necessary. As we did our work in the community, we could verify our priorities truly aligned with the needs of the people we served.

Weld It in Place to Sustain It

Before I developed the Wheel of Sustainability, I had to find other methods to sustain the gains my teams worked so hard to develop during weeklong events. Here’s a story of the extreme lengths one team went to make sure no one could ever make a change to their improvements.

I was requested to help a team in Armstrong’s Macon Georgia ceiling tile plant. They were experiencing jams at the end of the production line. These jams caused significant safety risk and high levels of downtime that affected the productivity of the operation. I was known for my efforts to improve flow on production lines and this was an extremely high value project.

I took a tour of the line and saw many opportunities to improve flow and reduce jams. I discussed my observations with the plant manager, and he agreed to assign a high skill team of line operators, mechanics, and the day shift supervisor to assist me.

We spent the first day of our event observing the flow of ceiling tiles as they traveled around the line over various conveyers. One area stood out above the rest: the twenty foot conveyer leading up to the flipper. Tiles were turning and entering the flipper in a skewed fashion. Every so often, they would get stuck and not flip correctly, causing the tiles behind them to back up and jam. People on the line had to rush around and clear the tiles off the line. Many times, they shut the line down and threw out a lot of damaged tiles.

We adjusted the conveyers and guides and tested our changes. The tiles were now going straight into the flipper. None of the other tiles were backing up and jamming. We had our solution. Our new challenge was to keep things in this optimal situation.

We brainstormed ways to sustain our improvements. We came up with ways to mark the conveyer rollers and guides. We considered drilling holes in the guides and pinning them in location. Then, one of our mechanics asked the question, “Now that we have the best location, why would let anyone make a change to it?” We looked at him and wondered what his idea was. He said, “Weld everything in place. Nobody can ever change it without a torch!”

He was right, of course. But were we willing to take such a leap and make our changes permanent? We decided to make further observations for the next two days, doing everything we could to make sure no one changed our settings during that time. To our relief, no changes were made, and more importantly, there were no jams.

The next day, we took a leap of faith and shut the line down. Two of our mechanics welded all guides in place. Once everything had cooled down and was cleaned up, we started the line back up. The tiles entered the flipper squarely and without incident. Even though we knew this should work, we were all relieved.

We gave a tour of this and other changes we made to the line and our sponsors were impressed and pleased. Team members remarked how important it was to keep our changes in place from now on. We joked about keeping the “red wrench” (torch) out of the hands of our maintenance department, so that they wouldn’t take our welds out.

From time to time, on subsequent visits to the Macon plant, I would go to the production line and verify that the guides were still welded in place. Ten years later, everything was as we left it and the line continued its improved performance.