Why Would You Treat Your People that Way?

Our fiberglass ceiling tile plant in Ohio got their board stock from another company (let’s call them Vendor X). They had some problems with the quality of some of the boards they received. As Vendor X was a critical partner, they decided to co-host a Kaizen event to eliminate the quality problems.

The first day, we met at the ceiling tile plant and laid out the issues we were experiencing. Walking through the receiving and production areas, we identified several quality issues that could be rectified from the plant’s internal processes. We then agreed to walk the Vendor X process on the second day.

Walking through Vendor X’s factory, we saw many impressive safety ideas we could emulate back at our factories. One was the painting the bottom stair red, so everyone would know it was the last stair before reaching the ground. This idea was implemented after they learned some of their people were missing the last step and had tripped or fallen. Once implemented, these issues went away.

The process to make fiberglass panels was fascinating and somewhat like the process to make mineral fiber ceiling tiles. We learned how molten fiberglass was spun into fibers and formed into long panels. Then, the panels were cut to finished lengths and stacked at the end of the line. Then, I saw something I wasn’t expecting. Instead of a barrier for the panels to hit and be stacked, they were hitting a worker.

This worker was taking the blow of the panel on his waist or stomach and letting it bounce off and then drop into a stack in front of him. I asked if this was a temporary situation and was informed it was a “normal” job in the factory.

This company, which was known for its focus on safety, was clearly missing a huge opportunity to eliminate a safety risk. They told us they had tried to automate it in the past, but it didn’t work and their employees preferred the current method of stacking. I couldn’t believe it could be okay to put their people at risk like this. It was clear their Leadership Commitment didn’t reach to this area of their process. I can’t imagine people are still treated that way in their factory these many years later. But, when I am having a bad day, I think back to that tour and realize that someone is always having a worse day! The lessons here: 1. No matter how good you think you are, there is always room for improvement; 2. Put yourself in the position of your people; and 3. Even someone who says they’re “OK” with a current process deserves to have it improved, if possible.

Alignment is Vital to a Successful Relationship

During a virtual Lean summit, I met the CEO of a large furniture retailer from Florida. He had implemented Lean in his business for 15 years and was reaping the rewards of it. During our conversation, we talked about Kaizen events. He regretted his company had stopped conducting them a few years earlier and missed the energy, excitement, and engagement they created.

I told him I knew a “guy” who could help him get his Kaizen “mojo” back – me! After a site visit, we signed an agreement to conduct one Kaizen event per month for the following year. This was the first long-term contract I had ever signed with a client. I wanted to make sure I was doing everything possible to set us both up for continued winning experiences throughout the year.

Meeting with their top CI leader, we reviewed the prior approach to Kaizen events. While they had many successful events in the past, it appeared to me that some of the structure they used limited the ownership and engagement of the Kaizen teams. For example, in my Kaizen events, teams stay focused on the work until the end and then immediately report out their results and findings to an audience. They have minimal homework, implementing improvements during the event, rather than making assignments for after the event. In the furniture company’s events, the report out was conducted at a later time, after the team disbanded. It also appeared that many improvements were implemented after the Kaizen was over.

Although we had differing styles, he agreed to let me run the Kaizen events using my approach. After all, this is what I was hired to do. Now, I had to learn the ins and outs of their company, so that I could properly integrate into their culture.

We set up a 1-week immersion visit, prior to the first Kaizen event. During that time, I learned about their approach to Lean. I also found my way around the offices and the distribution center. I got to do a ride along with an order picker and spend time in the truck loading area. After an executive review of their Hoshin plan (strategy, to non-Lean folks), I knew they were well ahead of most clients I deal with. I also knew I needed to speak their language.

For the first Kaizen event, I changed my training to fit their approach to Lean. When we went out into the distribution center for our Gemba walk, I used my standard process for understanding the current state. We identified many improvement opportunities and mapped them on a Value Stream Map. At the end of the second day, we had a very clear picture of the current state and started working on the highest value improvement opportunities.

After the team had left for the day, the head of CI stopped by the meeting room. He expected a structured discussion about the team’s progress. I hadn’t created one, so we just had a review of what they had accomplished. He was really impressed with the progress, but was concerned we weren’t using a disciplined approach to engage leadership.

He was right, of course. I had to change my approach to fit the culture of leadership and engagement they had worked so hard to achieve. Through the rest of the week, I tried to improve the leadership engagement process. There were some glaring gaps in my approach, however. Even though the team was going to win during their Kaizen event, I knew I had to do better for the second one.

After the Kaizen event was over, leaders joined me for a reflection session. It helped me identify the gaps and corrections for the next event:

1.      A daily documented feedback session with the team, identifying the plusses and deltas to help leadership understand how the team was feeling.

2.      A live “check/adjust” review with selected leadership team members, to keep them engaged in the process.

3.      And a few others.

Under the CI leader’s guidance, I made the necessary changes for the upcoming Kaizen events. I am sure they will make the process more engaging and robust. In the view of the Wheel of Sustainability, we were able to create Clear Benefits for the team and organization. Their needs come first. My job is to assure their needs are met.

Even the Weather Couldn’t Beat the Team

Recently, I facilitated a Changeover Reduction (SMED) Kaizen event for a leading whiskey bottler and distiller at their facility in Indiana. Their goal was to reduce changeover time by 50 percent or more, while improving safety and not negatively impacting quality or customer service.

As this was the first Kaizen event in the plant’s history, I prepared the team leader and sponsor for what was to come. Essentially, they would have to be flexible enough to perform changeovers when we requested them on Days 1 through 4. The first day, it would be performed by the crew and observed by the team. Days 2 and 3 would be performed by the team. On Day 4, after all improvements were implemented by the team, the crew would execute the changeover using the new procedures and tools we provided to them.

After Lean and Changeover Reduction training on the first day of the Kaizen event, the team walked out to the production line, prepared to observe a changeover. We gathered the crew, explained what we were going to be doing, and reminded them to execute the changeover as they normally would. We wanted them to be safe and tried to stay out of their way as much as possible. For almost seven hours, we watched the crew struggle with the changes required to go from one size bottle to another. It was painful to watch, but we had to understand the current process. Following the changeover, we went back to the meeting room to review our observations and generate ideas to make things better the next day.

After a really long day, I sent the team home. Once everyone was gone, I was told an ice storm was forecasted  later in the week. I was hopeful it would be a non-event and not disrupt our plans. I also hoped I would be able to fly home on Friday evening.

Based on six months of data, our baseline for changeovers was just over seven hours. Following each changeover, it took days for the line to get stable. We had to get better. Our goal was to reduce changeovers to just over 3 ½ hours.

On the morning of the second day, the team broke into four sub teams and worked diligently on four key projects:

1.      Parts and equipment preparation

2.      Visual standard work

3.      Resource coordination

4.      Specialized equipment changeover programming

By lunchtime, we were ready to try our first improvements. With the crew and part of the team observing, team members executed the changeover in just over 2 ½ hours. This was a big win and we were amazed at how much simpler the changeover was to execute. We identified more improvements to make. Back in the meeting room, the team planned out improvements for the morning of the third day.

The weather forecast was getting worse. The ice storm was now predicted to dump a ½ inches of ice on Thursday. I tried to be optimistic, but I knew we had to plan accordingly. We had a discussion, and the team was so excited by their progress they essentially ignored the weather report. No one wanted to stop the progress.

On Day 3, the team executed the improved changeover process and completed it successfully in just over 2 hours and 20 minutes. They knew they had something repeatable and sustainable. But would the crew be able to repeat our success on Day 4? The team set to work following the changeover to ensure nothing would keep them from winning. The weather report was still predicting Day 4 would be a problem. Team members reaffirmed their commitment to be there on Thursday. This was the day that the crew would perform the changeover. We’d soon find out if the crew was as committed as the team.

Early Thursday morning, the sleet started coming down. The plant manager called a meeting with his staff and developed a plan for the employees’ safety. They would be allowed to leave anytime during the day, without penalty. Only one of our team members left. He had a long distance to travel home. Most of the other employees went home. We wondered if anyone would be left to try our improved changeover.

We worked on improvements until lunchtime and did a survey of people remaining at the plant. Only two from the line we were helping were willing to stay. This wasn’t enough to truly test our changes. We surveyed other lines and got three more to join us. Two of them had never participated in a changeover of any kind on any line. This would be our ultimate test.

We spent an hour pairing up team members with crew members. Team members would give training and coaching on the new procedures to their assigned crew members. They weren’t allowed to do the work for their partner, but they could remind them of the new procedures and tools to help them execute the changeover in the improved way.

Once the training and coaching was completed, we started the changeover. It flowed so smoothly. Even those unfamiliar with the line were able to easily follow the new procedures and use the tools created for their benefit. The coaches made sure the crew followed the procedures as written and kept reminding them of the next steps and how to do them safely and efficiently. Two hours and three minutes later, the changeover was complete, and the line was running.

The team was amazed. All their hard work had paid off. Due to the weather, they got the best test they could have asked for. We reconvened quickly in the meeting room and then sent everyone home, hoping things would clear up enough for them to return for the final day of the Kaizen. I drove through the ice storm to my hotel. Waffle House was the only restaurant open. I was happy to be inside and have a warm meal.

On Friday, the roads were clear and the team reconvened. They were so proud of their results and determination to beat the weather and their goals. They implemented the Wheel of Sustainability to lock in all of the improvements. At the report out, attendees were amazed at the huge amount of time reduction achieved, while improving the safety and simplicity of the changeover. The team proved their new method was easily taught and trained and the rest of the plant could apply what they learned. Their determination to win was stronger than the ice storm.

Blow It Up

Here’s a mining story from my time at Dal-Tile that involves blowing up a hill!

We were invited to an annual mining training event (required MSHA training) at our talc mine in Van Horn, Texas. To get there, we had to fly to El Paso and then drive 120 miles in the middle of nowhere to our mining operations. Once we got there, we met Junior, the mining operator. He had spent his life out in the hot Texas sun and you could tell it by the condition of his skin. He lived on the mining property with his wife in a trailer and was one of the nicest people I have ever met.

After a day of training, we went out to dinner and spent the evening sharing stories, drinking, and dancing. Wayne, my boss, tried a shot of vodka with tabasco sauce on top and forgot to open his lips wide enough to avoid the burn. We all had a laugh at that.

On the second day, after a few hours of training, we were treated to a mining demonstration. We were going to clear some overgrowth on a hill by blowing it up. The only things I had blown up in the past were fireworks on the Fourth of July, so I was excited to see how it was done.

When we got to the hill, we were told there were 159 sticks of dynamite placed in three rows. They would be used to clear the growth and expose the talc for mining. Wayne and I got the opportunity to string the fuse through some of the sticks, while being assured by the mining operator we were perfectly safe to do so. I strung two sticks. Wayne was having such a good time, he strung around a dozen.

Then we were asked if we wanted to light the fuse to blow up the hill. I knew I did, and Wayne deferred to me. Since I had never blown anything up of this magnitude, I asked the operator what safety precautions we should follow. He pointed out the two vans with the motors running. Each one had enough capacity to take all of us away, should one of the vans fail.

Next, he told me the fuse between the sticks of dynamite took milliseconds to burn, but the main fuse I would be lighting had enough time on it to get us into the vans and approximately ½ mile away, where we would be safe.

I was a bit nervous, but I told myself the mining operator had done this many times before, so I would try to hide my anxiety. My natural inclination was to run as soon as the fuse was lit, but I thought that would make me look silly. So, I decided to do whatever the mining operator did. If he walked, I would walk. If he ran, well then …

He lit a cigarette, took two puffs and handed it to me. I bent down, held the cigarette to the fuse, and watched it light. Time stood still. I cleared my head and saw the mining operator walking slowly to the van. And that’s what I did. Wayne ran like a scared child and jumped into the van.

Once we were all in the van, we drove to the other side of the site and watched as the 159 sticks of dynamite exploded with a precision that took the face of the hill down exactly as planned.

We got back to the training room and poked fun at Wayne and any of the other folks who ran to the van. I would have too, but I had convinced myself to not panic. Was this the right call? I don’t know, but at least I had some fun at my boss’ expense!

These days, I work with teams to develop standard work to keep them safe and productive. To be sustainable, it needs to make sense to them. Although I don’t recommend lighting a fuse with a cigarette, it worked for the mining operator in Van Horn Texas.

Knowing Your Product a Bit Too Well (Story of the Clay Eaters at Dal-Tile)

In 1995, Dal-Tile bought a majority stake in the American Olean Tile Company, who I was working for at the time. I was offered an Industrial Engineering position at their corporate headquarters in Dallas, Texas. Always up for a challenge, I moved my family, for the fourth time in my career, from Olean, New York.

When I arrived at the corporate center, I learned I would be helping the company improve its environmental, health, and safety performance across its manufacturing facilities and mining operations.

I knew very little about mining, so I was intrigued by this opportunity. Ceramic tiles are formed using various natural ingredients, such as talc and clay. I took many courses on mining regulations. I realized I would be more helpful if I understood things from the perspective of those doing the work.

We leased some land in Mississippi on which we mined kaolin clay. I arranged a visit with the mining operator. My goal was to learn as much as possible by participating in a mining operation out in the field. I envisioned large pits and explosions. What I found was quite different.

On the first morning of my visit, I met the mining crew at their trailer on a piece of land that didn’t look much different than a field or someone’s backyard. Not sure what I was looking at, they directed me to ride in the back of their pickup truck. They were going to explore the land to find pockets of kaolin clay to mine.

We drove for half a mile to a field that had a number of metal rods sticking up in the ground. I asked what they were and was told that they represented the boundaries of a suspected pocket of clay that was anywhere from on the surface to around ten feet below it.

It all looked the same to me, of course. I asked how they were able to tell where the “good” clay was. One of the workers, Bob, said, “Here, let me show you.” He jumped off the back of the pickup truck and put his hand down in the dirt. “This here’s good clay.” I said, “How do you know?” “Because it tastes like good clay.” And he proceeded to take a bite of it.

I wasn’t sure if he was kidding or serious. Then he told me, “You can tell the sand and clay content by how it chews. This piece is not too sandy and the consistency is just about right for our tiles. Take a bite.”

What could I do? I took a bite! I could tell what he was talking about. There was a little graininess and the rest felt pretty thick and chewy. I didn’t swallow it.

He said this was the screening test. They would send samples back to the lab to verify his suspicions. The mining operator said Bob was rarely wrong and he could sniff out good veins of clay better than anyone. We would start mapping the veins that day and then excavate the clay once we had confirmation from the lab.

The rest of the week was spent finding more veins and securing samples from various areas on the land. I also noticed one of the workers was taking small amounts of the clay and placing them in plastic bags. I asked him if those were also going to the lab. He told me he was getting them for his wife, who was a “Clay Eater.” She had an aluminum deficiency and had cravings for clay of this type. I didn’t question any of this. I was glad I didn’t have a deficiency and wasn’t interested in eating dirt.

It turns out that you don’t need fancy equipment to get the job done, just the willingness to sink your teeth into your work.

One Call is All That Was Needed

I spent the early part of my career working at Thomasville Furniture as an Industrial Engineer. I was responsible for supporting our veneer plant. One of the most valuable lessons I learned from my time in this role was a stark example of never, ever overlooking the simple or the obvious – in this case a single phone call could have saved 18 months of work from being. Here’s the story.

In furniture, veneer is used to create a unique look on the surface of the furniture, which would be impossible with solid wood. In many cases, veneer panels are stronger and more stable than solid wood. The veneered surface is glued to an inner core to create a “sandwich” of wood plies. This is where the term plywood comes from.

To make patterns, slices of wood are placed side by side with tape applied at the edges to hold them together, prior to gluing to the core board. After gluing, the tape is sanded off. This reduces the thickness of the veneer. Although the surface is thinner, the bond is stronger, as the tape has equalized the moisture in all the types of wood prior to gluing, resulting in a very stable and strong surface.

It always bothered me that we had to sand the expensive veneer surface after the plywood was formed, but I was assured that there was no loss of strength or durability of the veneer surface.

One day, I was invited to a meeting at our corporate offices. An R&D team from our parent company, Armstrong World Industries, had traveled to North Carolina to show us a breakthrough technology that they said was going to revolutionize the veneering process.

Seated around a conference table, we were introduced to three scientists who supported us from Armstrong’s corporate office in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Most of us had never met them or heard about them, but they had been working on a veneer project for one and a half years.

They worked on an idea to eliminate the need to tape the veneer together prior to gluing to the core board. They used a sonic adhesion technique. They thought that by eliminating the tape, we could eliminate the need to sand the veneer and keep things stronger and more stable. This would also reduce the labor required to produce the finished products.

They gave us a demonstration of the sonic attachment method. Then they asked if we had any questions. Our veneer buyer asked if they understood the benefits of taping and how it equalized the moisture content of the different species of wood as they were spliced together. The R&D team looked puzzled and asked for more information. He told them if the moisture content wasn’t equalized, the different veneer species would grow and shrink at different rates, due to their natural moisture content. This would be most problematic during the gluing process.

The R&D team members looked dejected at this point. Then, one of the other members of the Thomasville team asked them if they had ever called anyone at the furniture company. They hadn’t. At that moment they realized they had wasted 18 months of effort. If they had just placed one phone call, they would have found out a critical detail, which would have changed the course of their project entirely!

They took their equipment and samples and went home. We never heard from them again. The lesson in all of this is to communicate with your customer and learn critical details about their process, rather than assuming you know more than you do.

Not Everyone Thinks the Same

I’m an engineer. Please don’t hold that against me. I’d like to believe I think logically, solving problems in a scientific way. I was taught this way as I was growing up. I assumed everyone else thinks this way. How wrong I was!

My first job out of college was as an Industrial Engineer for Thomasville Furniture. After many job changes and promotions within Armstrong, I ended up as a Senior Industrial Engineer at the corporate office in Lancaster PA.

I was having a lot of success helping teams solve critical manufacturing problems all over the world, using my own brand of facilitation techniques. Feedback on my approach was mostly positive, but there were some who thought I was a bit heavy-handed and not listening to team members as much as I should.

Our project managers were all required to attend a problem solving and facilitation course in Buffalo NY. It was highly regarded. My boss thought it would be a good idea for me to attend. I was happy to have the opportunity, and it also sounded like a nice week away from the office.

On the first day of the course, 25 people sat at tables of 4 or 5 and introduced themselves. We were told we would learn dozens of problem-solving and facilitation techniques. Before we did, we had to understand how people think. That seemed reasonable. But didn’t everyone think in a logical, straight-line way, like me?

We were instructed to draw a picture illustrating how we solve a problem. After we had a few minutes to complete our task, we were asked to share our results with others at our table. Being the logical engineer, I drew a series of boxes and arrows showing the steps I took from problem identification to resolution. It was essentially a straight line and made a lot of sense to me.

When I reviewed my process with the group, a few looked at my picture with concern in their eyes. Then, one member of the group showed her drawing. It looked like a dust cloud, with an unhappy face on one side and a sunny day on the other side. She described how when a problem comes to her, she goes to a dark place to think until the answer presents itself on the other side, which made her happy.

This couldn’t be a more opposite approach to mine. But it was hers. It’s how she dealt with problems and it worked for her. I realized for possibly the first time that not everyone thinks like I do. I now knew the purpose of the exercise. We can’t assume everyone thinks in the same way. If we do, we won’t be sensitive to their needs and therefore can’t help them through our facilitation efforts.

I became more open to learning as many different facilitation and problem-solving techniques as I could possibly use. Having a full arsenal allows me to modify my approach to the needs of the people I am working with. This simple exercise opened my eyes to the obvious. I’d like to think it made me a better facilitator and someone who can help anyone solve problems.

My Stuff’s not going to fit in that box

I was the Business Team Manager for a vinyl flooring manufacturer in Lancaster PA. The business I was responsible for had been in a death spiral for many years. Consumer tastes had shifted, investments in the business had shrunk, and new product introductions were rare. The day I arrived at the plant I noticed a hand-made sign declaring the plant would be shut down in the next month or two. This was not very encouraging.

The employee union and management had a combative relationship and the business difficulties didn’t help create alignment or trust. The day I was introduced to the Union President, he told me he couldn’t trust me, because he couldn’t trust the people before me and expected that I wouldn’t be there long.

During my first few months, there was a corporate leadership transition. We were under intense pressure to reduce our costs. Our business and jobs were on the line. The Vice President of Operations threatened people with termination many times during my time at the plant. His face would turn beet red as he yelled at the current person that was in trouble.

We did our best to keep our people safe and focused on making the best possible product for our shrinking customer base. It felt like a losing battle most of the time. Every so often, something good would happen that would keep us moving forward.

In the Fall, we were approached by the corporate New Product Development (NPD) team. They wanted to develop and introduce some new, radically different products. Were we up for the challenge of bringing these new products to life through intensive testing and process modifications? We were and dove into the work with renewed energy and passion.

We asked our Marketing Director what we could do to make a greater impact at the new products’ launch. We collaborated and decided we would invite a select group of customers to the plant and showcase the new products and the people that produced them.

Even though employee/management relations weren’t ideal, everyone understood we had to make the best possible impression on our precious customers. We cleaned up decades of filth and clutter, created tour routes and brochures, and designated hourly employees as tour guides for the hundreds of customers who were coming to the plant.

The plant shined. We heard feedback from many of our guests about how committed our employees were to the products they produced and to their customers. We were very proud of our organization and hoped the goodwill generated would lead to increased customer loyalty and better relations in the plant.

It never happened. The market wasn’t thrilled by our new products and as the months went by, orders continued to shrink. The overall negative feeling in the plant returned, as people realized this was likely our last shot at turning the business around.

Two months later, I was told to be in my office at the end of the day. The Operations VP was coming to the plant and wanted to talk with me in the Plant Manager’s office. I immediately wondered if my resume was up to date.

As I waited in my office for the meeting time, I saw the VP walk past with a box in his hands. My first thought was, “my stuff won’t fit in that box!”

When I got to the Plant Manager’s office, I noticed the entire plant staff and VP were seated around a conference table. Was I was going to be terminated in front of an audience? After some pleasantries, the VP started talking about the customer tour and the many positive comments he received about it. I realized that maybe this wasn’t my last day in the plant. Then, he pulled the box onto the table and took out a football signed by NFL great Dan Marino. He wanted me to have it as recognition of our efforts to make the customer tour such a great experience. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it was something about our team effort and that I was taking my ball and going home!

It was gratifying to know that our hard efforts to create a positive customer experience were recognized and brought improved support and credibility for our business. I only wish that it translated into a better outcome for the business. At least we give our best effort.

Voice of the COWstomer

In 2014, I attended the Shingo Conference in Ohio. This was my first opportunity to network with and learn from continuous improvement practitioners and leaders from all over the world. I was determined to get as much learning and experience as possible.

Throughout the week, I attended presentations, roundtables, and networking events. By the end of the week, I felt I had acquired as much classroom knowledge as I could handle. I was ready to get away from the conference hall and visit one of three companies that offered benchmarking visits: Goodyear Tire and Rubber, the Cleveland Clinic, and the John Amstutz Dairy. I had heard of the first two. They were world renowned for their application of Lean. But a dairy? I was intrigued. I decided to visit them.

Fifteen other conference-goers boarded a bus for the 1 ½ hour trip to what looked like a typical farm out in the country. At first, it seemed that way. We were met by a farmer in coveralls. He told us how he was applying Lean to his dairy farm, with the help of a consultant. He was initially skeptical that Lean could be applied to his situation and thought all of the automation he had was helping him be as productive as possible.

Through study and observation, they realized that many of the practices on the farm were counter-productive. The automation actually made conditions worse for the cows. In a 24-hour period, they converted the milking parlor (where the cows get milked) to a non-automated system, that was healthier and easier on the cows. The conversion had to be completed quickly, or the cows would get sick from not being milked. It was like a Kaizen event on steroids.

Once the changes were made, production went up, sickness went down, and the cows were able to give milk for a longer period of their lives.

Essentially, they made all changes to optimize the experience for the cows. They found out a number of things from just listening to what their cows had to “say”:

- The straw that the cows were sleeping on was uncomfortable. It was replaced with a softer, recycled material, and the cows got more restful sleep.

- The milking machines were hurting the cows’ udders. When they were attached, the cows would “dance.” This indicated they were in pain.

- Air was being vented poorly and the cows were “complaining” by mooing a lot. The fans were repositioned to move the methane out of the breathing space and the cows calmed down.

Then the farmer said something that I’ll never forget: “Cows don’t lie. They tell you exactly what they think.” That is so true and applies to the customers and people we serve. We should be actively seeking out feedback on the changes we make. If we get the honesty of cows, we’ll design better systems for our customers.

If you can’t stand the heat, get out!

I was the Industrial Engineering manager at a ceramic tile factory in western New York for two years. During that time, I participated in many improvement projects. As a member of staff, I was responsible for various administrative and plant coverage duties. One of the most critical responsibilities I had was holiday coverage for the tile firing and curing process.

Our tile was mosaic, meaning the color went all the way through. After the raw materials were combined, they were pressed into 1 x 1-inch or 2 x 2-inch squares and placed into ceramic containers with sand. The containers were loaded onto cars that travelled through a kiln. The kiln cars, which weighed hundreds of pounds, spent 36 hours travelling through extreme heat (>1900 degrees Fahrenheit). At the end of their journey, the tiles were fully cured.

Sometimes, cars jumped off of the tracks and got stuck in the kiln. Someone had to get them back on track, so they could exit the kiln. We had personnel who were able to get the cars back on track before there was a major pile-up or wreck in the kiln. If they weren’t able to, we would have to let the kiln cool down to room temperature, which took days and caused most of the tile to be scrapped.

These pile-ups were rare and unpredictable. As a member of staff, I had a responsibility to assist the team while they were trying to get things back to normal, during times when there was no coverage at the plant, such as a major holiday.

On Thanksgiving I was responsible for kiln coverage. I got a call late in the afternoon that one of the cars had jumped off the tracks in the pre-heat section. Fortunately, that’s where it’s just two hundred degrees, rather than thousands. Still, that’s pretty hot.

I dropped what I was doing at home and drove to the plant. When I got there, I met the team that was going to go into the pre-heat section and put the car back on the track. They were gearing up, putting on Tyvek suits, gathering pry-bars and a cooler of water and Gatorade.

My job was this:

1.      Keep them alive

2.      Keep them hydrated

3.      Limit their exposure to the heat

4.      Stay out of their way

The team went into the pre-heat section and started using the pry bars to put the car back on the track. They walked in like it was no big deal. After three minutes of effort, I thought they should take a break. I tried to walk into the pre-heat section to tell them to come out. As soon as I did, the intense heat physically pushed me out of the area. I’d never felt anything so hot in my life. And there was the team: fully inside, wearing Tyvek suits, and using pry bars to move the massive kiln car back onto the tracks. Unbelievable!

I decided it would be better just to yell to get their attention. After two more minutes, I was able to convince them to stop what they were doing and take a break and hydrate. After two more attempts in the pre-heat section, they got the kiln car back on the tracks.

As I think back on this experience, I am amazed at how people are able to adapt to the most challenging conditions and work as a team to solve the most difficult problems.

Don’t be afraid to expose your weaknesses

I was the quality control manager for a ceiling grid factory in Maryland. In my first days at the plant, I observed that quality performance was minimally acceptable. There was a lot of room for improvement. I learned from my prior experience as a supervisor in Chicago to involve more people in the process and give them the information they needed to make proper quality decisions.

People weren’t very involved in the quality process at the Maryland plant. I was determined to do something about it. The first thing I did was review all quality specification drawings for our products. They seemed to be designed for engineers, not operators. The drawings were often ignored and out of spec product was found after it had been produced, even though operators had signed off that everything was in spec. I simplified the drawings to make them easier to use and understand.

The next step I took was to train our employees to install and measure grid properly. Once they understood the mechanics of the grid, they knew they couldn’t let out of specification product end up in the hands of our customers.

One day, early in my tenure, I noticed a visitor from Underwriters Labs (UL) at the plant. He met with Dwayne, the engineering manager. They talked in the break room for thirty minutes. Then, they shook hands and the UL rep left, without going into the plant.

Me: “What was the UL rep doing here?”

Dwayne: “He was auditing our quality certification process.”

Me: “What was he doing in the breakroom?”

Dwayne: “Oh, we had a cup of coffee and talked about fishing.”

Me: “Are you telling me that all he does is visit during his visit?”

Dwayne: “Sure. We don’t want him to come out into the plant.”

Me: “Why not? Don’t we pay Underwriters Labs for their certification? Wouldn’t you want to make sure we’re actually doing what we’re supposed to be doing?”

Dwayne: “We could get in trouble if we’re not doing everything correctly.”

Me: “Not if we take steps to correct our errors.”

Dwayne: “It’s probably best if we keep these visits to the breakroom.”

I wasn’t satisfied and decided to do some research into our UL certification process. Once I was sure we were trying to do the right thing, I spoke with Alan, our plant manager.

Me: “I want to get our house in order in a quality control way and I need your support.”

Alan: “What are you thinking of doing and what are the risks?”

Me: “I want to take the UL inspector on a tour and identify anything that we might be doing wrong. The risk is that we may be doing a lot of things wrong and get cited for any issues.”

Alan: “How are you going to minimize our exposure?”

Me: “I’ve already had conversations with Joanne, our corporate UL expert. She explained what’s supposed to happen during a UL audit and the steps that must be taken if a non-conformance is found. As long as we respond in a timely and proper way, our risk is minimal.”

Alan: “Have you identified anything that we’re doing that may be out of compliance?”

Me: “I have and I think everything is correctable.”

Alan: “If that’s the case, I’ll support you and talk with Dwayne to get his alignment.”

Alan, Dwayne, and I spoke and came to an uneasy agreement. Dwayne was skeptical and worried we might be overwhelmed with issues. I knew we were doing the right thing. If we had issues, it was time to deal with and correct them.

I called the UL inspector, introduced myself, and invited him for an off-cycle review of our process. He was surprised to have someone reach out to him, but was appreciative for the interest.

One month later, he and I took a detailed walk through our quality assurance processes. He found many things that needed to be corrected. Fortunately, they were all simple and minor. For example, a label on a box of grid referenced test method 205. It should have said 205L. Most issues were similar and were corrected within 2 weeks.

Now we were confident that we were producing products that met customer requirements and were properly representing their UL certifications. In the following years, our relationship with Underwriters Labs strengthened and we became partners in the growth of our ceiling grid business.

Good Things Can Come from a Tough Situation

My first supervisory assignment was at a ceiling grid factory in Franklin Park Illinois. We had eleven operating lines at one end of the plant and a distribution center at the other end. It wasn’t unusual to produce grid in the morning and ship it out the same day. Sometimes, due to inefficiencies, we produced finished goods for customers whose trucks were waiting to be loaded on our shipping docks.

In early December, people in suits came to our plant and took a tour. They spent time on the factory floor and in the offices with our plant management. I was told they were “investors.” I didn’t know enough to question this, and went about my business, trying to produce grid as safely and productively as possible.

Our Vice President of Operations came to the plant in the middle of December and took the staff and their dates out to a nice dinner. He told us how impressed he was with us and that he was committed to the long-term viability of the plant.

Our performance was improving and the team was feeling good about their future. Early in the spring, we planned a recognition luncheon and invited employees from all three shifts to join in the celebration.

As we sat down to the meal, our Plant Manager summarized the performance improvements made over the past year. He congratulated many by name and shared how proud he was of what we had accomplished. Then, he introduced the “investors.” Everyone clapped. We had no idea what was about to happen.

One of the investors got up and added his congratulations. Then, he told us that even though we had made such great progress, our company had entered into a joint venture with his. Our plant had become redundant. We would be shut down in the next three months.

I was stunned. Good thing too. The moment the announcement was made, employees looked at me to see if I knew about the plant closure ahead of time. The look on my face told them I didn’t.

Over the next three months, we did everything possible to keep everyone safe and productive while we were preparing the plant to shut down. We lost many good crew members who found jobs in the area. But something happened that surprised me (in addition to the shock of the announcement). Performance improved beyond the levels it had reached prior to the luncheon. I think most people wanted to stay busy, rather than focusing on the eventual plant closure.

The remaining team members became closer and seemed to appreciate me more than they had before. I’m almost certain my ignorance of what was coming made them feel like I was in the same situation as them and that I hadn’t hidden anything from them.

As we shut off the lights and locked the doors on the final operating day at the plant, employees hugged each other and said their heartfelt good-byes. Our team rallied in the face of adversity and stayed strong until the end.

One Size Doesn’t Fit All

Early in my career, I worked at Thomasville Furniture. I supported the veneering operations. We were building a new plant for the plywood pressing operations. I was asked to design and purchase a storage system for the heavy wood blocks that were used to create shaped plywood in a special press.

I had two critical problems to solve:

1.      Improve the organization of the blocks and make them easy to find.

2.      Reduce the effort and safety risk of moving the blocks into and out of the press.

In the existing veneer plant, the blocks were stored on pallets on the floor. When needed, they were carried to the press and slid into place. The blocks weighed 40 to 400 pounds. The heaviest block was used to create bed canopies. All other blocks weighed 100 pounds or less. One person carried the lighter blocks to the press. Four people carried the bed canopy blocks. Clearly this wasn’t a safe practice. I knew I could improve this situation.

The first thing I did was follow the process in the old plant. I walked with the operators and helped them carry blocks to the press. They were heavy, bulky and difficult to transport safely. They were stored all over the plant. Finding them often took more time than carrying and sliding them into the press.

I was given a set amount of space in the new plant. I wanted to design a rack system to store blocks in any location on the rack, to allow for flexibility. I quickly realized that if I did this, I would need a rack that was five times bigger than the space I was given. What could I do, I wondered?

Then I had an idea: create a special rack location for the heaviest block. This location would have rollers to make it easier to move the block into and out of the rack. The rest of the shelves in the rack had wire decking which was more than adequate to safely slide the lighter blocks into and out of the rack. Using this concept, I was able to store all of the blocks into the allocated space.

Now I needed to create a system to safely move the blocks from the rack to the press. Working with a material handling vendor, we designed a cart with rollers on it and a front plate to keep the blocks from falling off. One worker was able to take the cart to the rack, slide the block from the rack to the cart, and use the front plate to keep the block in place. Once the cart was rolled to the press, the front plate was lowered and the block was moved into the press safely and with low effort.

We established a procedure for one person to safely handle any block, except for the bed canopy block. For that, we required two people to work together. This project taught me the valuable lesson that you have to understand the full problem to be solved before coming up with a solution. One size doesn’t fit all.

Alternate History

Recognition is a key element in the Wheel of Sustainability. It refers to the telling of stories to lock in commitment to a critical change. Once someone tells a story as if they were there, it’s an indication of their commitment to the change. Recognition happens in many places. Sometimes it’s in a business setting, other times it’s personal. This is a story of personal Recognition.

In my family, when one family member takes credit for something that everyone else remembers someone else doing, we call that “alternate history.”

My mother was really good at creating alternate history. The thing is, we never argued about it, because it was always a fond memory. Why spoil her fun and Recognition of a story she treasured? Here’s an example:

I met my Peggy, my wife, on a blind date, well before the days of online dating. People actually knew someone they thought you might like going out with. I worked with her sister, who set us up. How could I say no? Our first date was fun and we got along very well. We dated for over a year and people started to wonder if we would take our relationship to the next level and get married.

Peggy and I were happy to live independently. We never talked about marriage. We felt fortunate to have someone with whom we could be ourselves and enjoy being around. We had many adventures we still talk about to this day.

My parents loved Peggy and made it clear they were happy we found each other. One day they were visiting me in North Carolina. My father, who didn’t typically get too involved in my personal business, took me aside.

He was a man of few words, but I’ll never forget what he said: “Can you imagine your life without Peggy?” I couldn’t, and it wasn’t many hours later when I proposed marriage. The words came out in the middle of the mulch aisle of a hardware store. We decided to not tell anyone until we had a few days to confirm we were serious.

Over the years, the story changed. My mother took credit for saying those words to me. She was so proud she was able to influence her son, the confirmed bachelor. Peggy and I laughed about it. We never corrected Mom. Dad didn’t either. Her Recognition of her influence on me showed how much she treasured our relationship. Mom and Dad are gone now, but this fond memory remains. It’s my Recognition of the love they shared. Now I’m sharing it with you.

Peggy’s Toolbox

I’m always organizing things around the house. One winter, I cut the shapes of my tools into foam and lined the drawers of my tool box. It looked so nice, I showed it to my family so they could admire it too. They humored me, but didn’t seem very impressed.

On a trip to Costco, I bought a labeler. It seemed like something that might come in handy for one of my home organization projects. Peggy, my wife, asked me what I needed with one. I wasn’t sure, but it was inexpensive. What was the harm in having one?

Eventually, I went through the tubs stored in our basement and consolidated and disposed of things. From time to time, I got Peggy’s permission to donate or throw things away. After each tub was completed, I put a label on it to identify contents and the date it was reviewed. That way, I wouldn’t feel the need to do it again for a few years. I showed off my work. Once again, I was met with a less than excited reaction.

I took some grief for being so organized, but Peggy and I laughed about it often. She was also quietly organizing the kitchen. We’d go to a store and come back with plastic containers of various sizes.

One morning, while taking out my breakfast cereal, I noticed labels on the plastic containers in the pantry. All of a sudden, the labeler had purpose. The idea of organizing and making things visible, was beneficial to Peggy. More than that, she was committed to the idea.

I help out in the kitchen after dinner. Peggy washes the dishes and I dry and put them away. I always forget which Pyrex goes where and must be reminded often. One day, I asked why the Pyrex goes where it does and wouldn’t it be better to store it differently? I was met with this explanation:

“Don’t mess with my toolbox and I won’t mess with yours.”

From then on, I haven’t questioned Peggy’s system. I get well fed and meals always come out on time, regardless of the number of ingredients or side dishes. I don’t question the need for another container, pot, pan, or utensil. I reap the rewards.

Peggy’s fully committed to her system. She sees the value of organization and ensures everyone knows and follows the standard. And as a family, we receive Clear Benefits through the use of her toolbox!

Go With the Flow

I was engaged to help an electronics manufacturer improve the safety and productivity of a testing lab at their Breinigsville, PA location. The problem they were trying to solve was that it took too long from the time the equipment was received to the time the test report was delivered to the customer.

We took a Gemba walk of the lab. I knew that the lack of organization and visualization of the process were key contributors to the less than acceptable performance. George, the lab owner, had worked for the company for many years and had a system that worked for him, but others had no idea what was going on and how they could help.

I proposed conducting a modified 5S Kaizen event, with a focus on improving the safety, productivity, and flow in the lab. Once the charter was approved, we planned a three and a half day workshop.

I arrived the day before the event. Rich, the team leader, informed me that George had cleaned up the lab the week before. Rich was disappointed and thought it would limit what our team could accomplish. I assured him that what George thought was “cleaning” would just give us a bit of a head start on the first day of the Kaizen. It wouldn’t limit the safety, productivity or flow improvements to be made. Rich wasn’t so sure.

What’s Not Part of the Customer Experience is Waste

On the first day of the event, I taught the team Lean principles and helped them understand how to look at processes from the lens of the customer. Anything that didn’t directly impact the experience for the customer was “waste.” Our job was to eliminate as much waste as possible, so the customer could receive their results in the simplest, safest, and most expedient way. I then showed them how 5S (Sort, Set in Order, Shine, Standardize, Sustain) could help us eliminate waste in a simple way.

Next, we took a team Gemba walk of the lab. Team members were feverishly writing ideas on their post-it notes. They were seeing things in a new way. George even admitted he hadn’t realized how much clutter existed in the lab. This initial recognition seemed to assuage Rich’s concerns.

We started removing unnecessary tools, equipment, and supplies on the afternoon of the first day. This continued through the second day. In all, we removed approximately 75% of everything that had been in the lab. Now we could see what was really going on and how we might rearrange things to improve the flow of material through the lab.

There was one critical piece of testing equipment. Before we started our work, it was surrounded by clutter and other equipment. Now, it had much-needed space to work. The team identified the things that would help the testing go through the critical equipment efficiently.

Focusing on Flow

On the third day, it looked like we had a nice arrangement of materials and information in the lab. The team was ready to put up signage and label everything in its optimal position. I knew we were better off than when we started, but there had been no evaluation of the flow. This was my opportunity to teach another technique to evaluate flow: spaghetti diagramming. Team members use a paper layout of the area and trace the movements of people with their pencil or pen as they do their work. When they’re done, the picture looks like spaghetti.

George took us through the fourteen steps of testing, from receipt of the materials to be tested to final report writing. We asked him to move around the lab as he would normally do. When he was done, there was a bunch of spaghetti on the papers. This told us there were many opportunities to reduce the amount of motion and effort in the process. With just a few, simple changes in the positioning of tools and other equipment, we were able to reduce the motion by half, as evidenced by the new spaghetti diagrams. This was a breakthrough.

At the report out, team members noted that by focusing on flow in the lab, they were able to make significant improvements in safety and productivity. Ultimately their customers would see and feel the improvements they implemented. Two weeks later, George was still identifying improvements he could make without any team support. He was now a true believer in the power of Kaizen.

How do you measure knowledge?

If you produce a physical product, it’s easy to see things being created. You can count them, measure them, and identify the cost to produce them. But what happens when you create knowledge or a new product idea. How do you measure your output? More importantly, how do you measure your effectiveness and identify when you need help?

The technology group of a global ceiling tile manufacturer that I worked for decided it was time to figure this out. For many years, our leaders requested resources and money for projects based on anecdotal evidence and gut feelings. In the business world, you must show a return. If you can’t, somebody else will get the resources and investment.

Resources had become scarce and there wasn’t a clear way to show the return on investment, when requests for money or people were made. We needed to come up with a metric of contribution for our group.

We had four distinct Value Streams: Innovation, New Product Development, Capital Engineering, and Business and Operations Support. Each one worked at different points in the business cycle. Innovation was at the very beginning, when an idea was generated. Business and Operations Support engaged after a project was complete. Was there any way to create a metric that made sense for all four Value Streams?

Developing a New Way to Measure Value

Our plants had a single metric of performance, called Plant Reliability. It measured final output against the maximum output achievable during a defined timeframe. This number, measured as a percentage, could be anywhere from 0 to 100. Each percentage point was worth a defined amount of value to the business, depending on the size and complexity of the plant. When the number went up, cost per unit went down and customer satisfaction rose. It was difficult to “game the system” and each plant could be compared to itself and other locations. Plant Reliability helped the business choose where to invest money and resources to improve performance.

After much discussion, I was able to get alignment of the leadership team to develop a metric based on the concept of Plant Reliability. The twist was that the four value streams would use the same metric to compare performance to themselves and to the other value streams. Then, we would make investments based on the opportunity identified. But only if we could somehow tie the metric into financial results.

Our value stream leaders were talking in terms of Net Present Value (NPV) when they discussed the efforts and results of their teams. In Innovation, for example, they would assign a team to work on a product idea with the expectation that it would generate future revenue. This information could be entered into a spreadsheet and the Net Present Value of the project was determined. These numbers were estimates, but the only way a project could be approved to proceed was using the analysis that determined the NPV.

Measure, Communicate, Adjust, Repeat

We decided to give NPV a try. Each value stream figured out how they would calculate it for their part of the business cycle. Once we approved the calculations, we needed to figure out a way to display it in a meaningful way and determine a target to achieve.

We created an overall NPV display board and each value stream incorporated NPV into their individual team display boards. Once this was done, we educated our teams, customers, and suppliers. Then, we started using NPV as a key discussion point when evaluating work and investment of resources. Instead of gut feel and emotion, we were now using facts and data. The allocation of resources and investment across value streams became a simpler decision to make. The business ultimately got a boost in outcomes from the results-focused behavioral change.

The Journey is Long

After five years as Lean Champion, my voice wasn’t being heard so well. Sure, I was able to promote and facilitate Kaizen events and help people solve problems, but I was unable to move the leadership team to take the next steps in our Lean journey. Any time I spoke to our leaders about strategy, they were too busy to consider anything that deviated from their current operating approach.

I realized that I needed to engage an outside voice. Someone with credibility, who could say the difficult things I was saying with different words. Someone who could influence our leadership team to change their behavior in a way that would support our Lean transformation.

You’re Never Too Good for Growth

Two years into our Lean transformation we had undertaken a Lean assessment to see where we were and where the opportunities existed. Looking back, it was more tactical than strategic, but was appropriate for our maturity.

Now, I had an idea. What if we tried another Lean assessment, this time focusing on the leadership and strategic aspect of our efforts? When presented to our four Value Stream Directors, they seemed satisfied with their efforts and indicated they had this “Lean thing” down. I knew right then we were in trouble!

I met with my manager, the Executive VP of Technology, and convinced him that we needed something to open our eyes to the possibilities for the next steps in our transformation. But, if we used our internal resources to conduct the assessment, we would rate ourselves too highly. We had become complacent and overconfident. Our results were impressive. The product portfolio had doubled and time to market had been reduced from eighteen to ten months.

After receiving approval, I reached out to Mike, a consultant from Shingijutsu, who I had met four years before. He taught me that no matter how good you think you are, there are always ways to improve and grow. He agreed to join us at no cost. He was interested in how we were doing and had the freedom to do what he wanted. He flew in from Seattle and I joined him for breakfast on the first day of his visit. We talked about the current situation. He assured me that he had seen this many times before. He knew he could help.

Our first meeting was with the Leadership team. As they introduced themselves, most of them talked proudly about their team’s accomplishments and how they incorporated Lean into their processes. Each time, Mike asked them probing questions about their progress and approach. He exposed gaps in their efforts and understanding of Lean in a way that was respectful, but eye-opening. Team members took many notes during the discussion.

The Beginning of Breakthrough Thinking

For the rest of the week, Mike and the assessment team participated in many meetings and activities and identified huge opportunities in our Lean journey. Mostly aligned with my prior efforts, Mike had a way of communicating to the organization that had credibility beyond any internal resource.

At the review of findings, we presented four recommendations:

1.      Learning starts at the top – leaders must demonstrate the behaviors of the change they want to make

2.      Linkage – become in lockstep with customers and suppliers to ensure that everyone gets only what they need, when they need it

3.      Stability – level the flow of work to drive the production system stress level down

4.      Cycle time and quality – deliver only what the customer wants, when they want it, at the appropriate level of quality

Although these were not new ideas, the leadership team saw them as breakthrough thinking and instantly committed to them. One Director admitted that prior to the assessment he thought he knew Lean very well. Now, he was sure that he had much learning to do to become competent.

Following the assessment, there was a renewed commitment to Lean in the organization and many breakthroughs were made over the next year. For my part, I was extremely appreciative of the time Mike gave us and the renewed interest that was generated by his visit.

Cream Rises to the Top

I was working with a team in New Jersey to implement Training Within Industry (TWI) on a critical household cleaner line. Plant leadership saw this as a key element in their strategy to improve overall line performance.

In the initial Kaizen event, I trained twelve team members to competently create standard work and train others using the TWI method. Much like my first experience with TWI, the training method wasn’t natural for the team, but by the end of the Kaizen, they had all shown proficiency with it.

One of the hourly team members, Rita, seemed inspired by this “new” method for training. The rest of the team members agreed she had a flair for it and would do quite well training others on her crew.

When I got home at the end of the week, I was confident that TWI would help the plant improve line performance. I hoped the enthusiasm for TWI would continue. Over the weekend, I received a text from Rita, who was excited by what she had learned and had done further research on TWI and other Lean concepts. While this isn’t unheard of, I am always impressed how a winning Kaizen experience can move certain team members to want to learn more.

I sent Rita a congratulatory note and provided a list of my five favorite continuous improvement books for her consideration. She thanked me. I wondered if she would continue to take the initiative to learn more.

Boosting Confidence Through Training

Over the next few weeks, line performance wasn’t improving. I was asked to return to the plant to support the TWI rollout. Other issues had taken priority and the trainers hadn’t been given the opportunity to create standard work or train their coworkers.

I suggested that we have a refresher for the trainers and then practice training their coworkers with the standard work created during the initial Kaizen. Leadership agreed, and I was assigned to four team members, including Rita. I was curious to see what she had done in the weeks between the Kaizen and my visit.

It turned out she had been training some of the people on her crew and getting really good at it. She even gathered feedback at the end of each training session, asking for the level of confidence before and after the training. When her coworkers expressed their level of confidence had risen, it reinforced how important the training was to Rita.

It Takes One Good Leader

Over the next two months I returned to the plant for a few days each week to continue the training rollout. Rita participated every time. It was clear that she had become an amazing trainer. During one session, she taught the plant manager to change over a critical piece of equipment that only the highest skilled workers had previously done. We now knew this was going to work. Other trainers saw what Rita was able to accomplish and it boosted their confidence.

The following month, the line reached its performance objective and has stayed there since. I am convinced that the training process and Rita’s leadership contributed to this success.

Words Matter

Training and Review is the second spoke on the Wheel of Sustainability. The basis for Training and Review is Training Within Industry, which was developed at the onset of World War II to quickly train inexperienced workers to produce all the necessary armaments and supplies in support of the war effort. It’s one of the reasons the US and its allies won the war.

Training Within Industry (TWI) is an extremely disciplined approach to ensure that the person doing a job learns it in the safest and productive way and never forgets the right way to do things. Recently, I had the opportunity to help a team apply TWI to a new laundry detergent line that was being installed in their factory in Ohio. The goal was to use this training approach to ensure the line started up at high-performance rates.

I had limited experience with TWI, so I did research and found a book and other materials to prepare me to deliver a winning experience for the team and the company. After reading the book about a dozen times and practicing the exercises to reinforce TWI, I was ready to facilitate my first TWI Kaizen event. The team leader and I agreed that we would follow TWI exactly as designed and not take any shortcuts.

We had 24 team members, mostly from the production floor, with a few support staff sprinkled in. On the first day, I taught the TWI approach and its key principles, including:

·        Focus must be on the learner to maximize their experience

·        Words matter

·        All training is presented from the perspective of the person doing the work, not the equipment

·        The simpler the instruction, the easier it is to follow

The Value of Different Perspectives

We practiced building standard work by making paper airplanes. This exercise illustrated how much we take for granted when we’re trying to explain what to do. From time to time, I had to correct errors in approach, as team members were getting different elements of TWI confused.

After the team successfully completed the exercise, we took a Gemba walk to identify real-life plant activities to build TWI standard workaround. As the TWI method was time-intensive, the team was directed to pick work elements that took one minute or less to accomplish.

We created six four-person sub-teams. I rotated through and coached them as they built their standard work. Because TWI was brand new to everyone on the team, each team member needed personal attention to properly build the standard work. Some caught on faster than others, and by the end of the first day, I was mentally exhausted from the coaching. I know many of the team members were tired too.

After the standard work was completed on day two, sub-teams were instructed to practice training each other using the TWI method. I planned to rotate through each sub-team to coach them through the training process. With four members on each of the six teams, they were instructed to conduct four rotations, where each team member would be able to participate as one of the four positions:

1.      Trainer – responsible to use the TWI method exactly as designed

2.      Learner – fully focused on the Trainer’s instructions and coaching

3.      Auditor – responsible to ensure the training process was followed properly

4.      Improver – responsible to look for improvements to the standard work

On my first team rotation, it was apparent that TWI wasn’t as natural as it appeared, and it took more than 40 minutes to get through one round of training (for one minute of work content). I had to step in and coach many times, as the Auditor wasn’t catching the nuances of the training process. After I completed my time with the first sub-team, I was then able to coach the second and third sub-teams before the end of the afternoon.

Knowing that I couldn’t complete all rotations before the end of the day, I brought the full team back to the meeting space and gathered their feedback. Many team members noted that it would have been nice to be corrected immediately around the TWI method, rather than waiting for me to rotate to them when available. I apologized and said I hoped that they were learning what “right” and “wrong” felt like, especially from the perspective of the Learner.

Do you really understand?

On the morning of the third day, I met with the fourth sub-team. I was in for a wake-up call, and so were they. Matt was the Trainer and Roy was the Learner. Just like the Trainers on the other three sub-teams, Matt had difficulty with the structure of the TWI. I stepped in and corrected him, and asked him if he understood my instructions. He said he did, but then made the exact same mistake in the next attempt. This went on for forty minutes. I must have corrected Matt half a dozen times. Each time, he said he understood my instructions. But he truly didn’t. I knew I had to do something, but what? Then it dawned on me.

Me: “Time out. Let’s move away from the equipment.”

Matt: “Sure thing, what’s up?”

Me: “Look, you keep telling me that you understand what I’m asking you to do.”

Matt: “Sure, I get it.”

Me: “Clearly you don’t. We need to get this right and we’re going to stay here until we do this right, even if it takes the rest of the day.”

They all looked at me as though a light had turned on – this was serious! Once I gained agreement from all four members to follow the method exactly, we started the training process again.

Focused Practice Makes Perfect

Matt was now focused. He followed the TWI method to the letter, and the training proceeded without any issues. Roy was able to concentrate on the training and demonstrated his knowledge very well. The rest of the team was able to see the value of the approach and why the words mattered. I could finally move on to the fifth and sixth sub-teams.

The rest of the event proceeded without major issues and by the end, we had not only created twenty-four TWI believers, but also developed a strategy for TWI implementation that could be supported and audited by the team and plant leadership.

When it came time to get feedback from all team members, I was pleased to hear that they appreciated the personal coaching that I provided and that my “tough love” wasn’t so tough! More than that, they realized that words really do matter, and by being focused and disciplined, they would be able to efficiently and safely train the rest of the workforce.