No Barrier Too Big for the Team

We were running a reliability and center lining Kaizen for a vinyl siding plant in Maryland. These events often unlock 5% gains in yield and productivity and drastically reduce safety risks by 90% or more.

It was cold, so cold you could see your breath on the shop floor. Still, the team stayed focused. We spent the first two days teaching principles and establishing a center line for the process, leveling equipment, and planning the rest of the week.

Then, on day three, disaster struck. A critical water line broke, shutting down the fire suppression system. The plant was evacuated. We couldn’t even grab our tools. The event was abruptly canceled.

I left wondering: What would happen to the half-done work? Would the changes help or hurt? Would the team lose momentum?

One week later, the plant was operational again. Two months after the shutdown, we were back. Not only to finish the first line but to tackle a second. We had mostly the same team, plus a few new faces. We did a quick refresher on reliability principles and techniques and then went to Gemba. I was amazed. During the downtime, the team had already improved results using what they’d learned. They were fired up and ready to go.

We deployed most of the team to the new line, which had many of the same reliability issues. A smaller group returned to the first line to finish what we started. Over the next few days, we aligned, leveled, and pinned every critical element on both lines.

By day three, both lines were running better than anyone could remember. We locked in improvements and implemented the Wheel of Sustainability to ensure long-term results.

The approach has now been replicated throughout the plant and across their entire network of four additional sites. Better yet, they’ve built a workforce that believes in improvement and is hungry for more.

Even when the plan falls apart, a committed team can rise to the challenge. Reliability work is about precision and attention to detail. Culture is about perseverance and the drive to get things done.

The Ultimate Leadership Commitment

When I engage with new clients, I always gauge one thing up front: Do they have true Leadership Commitment? Without it, even the best Kaizen efforts will fizzle. With it, anything is possible and sustainable.

One example I’ll never forget came during a follow-up 5S Kaizen in a New Jersey manufacturing plant. Our first event had reduced tool and supply search time by 90% and lit a fire in the maintenance team.

Not everyone had been part of that first event. Some sat out to keep operations running and were skeptical their voices would be heard. But once they saw the results, they were eager to join round two.

We expanded to new areas: the electrical repair shop, outside storage, a mezzanine, even a pair of old shipping containers in the parking lot. Deep into “Sort” on Day one, we got word of a serious chemical upset in the plant. Our team leader, the Maintenance Manager, had to leave. I assumed the Kaizen would be put on hold.

But the leadership team made a bold decision. They would personally handle the crisis. They donned hazmat suits and tackled the environmental emergency so our team could stay focused on improvement. We got the Maintenance Manager back quickly.

It wasn’t easy for our team leader to stay on the sidelines. Normally, this was his job. But the plant leaders valued the Kaizen event enough to step in themselves.

Yes, we lost a team member here or there for the emergency effort. But by the end of the week, the crisis was under control, and our Kaizen team had cut “find time” by over 70%.

The biggest breakthrough was the clear alignment and support that the team received from their sponsors. They felt like they were working on something important and they were. I have no doubt that their results will live on and more employees will want to engage in similar work. They now know that their leaders have their backs.

Leadership isn’t just about solving problems—it’s about creating space for others to do their best work. When leaders show up for their people, their people show up for the work.

Conference Challenge Accepted

In the early days of my entrepreneurial journey, I ran a lot of experiments. The biggest? Seeing if people would actually pay for my Kaizen Ninja approach. Spoiler alert: they did.

Once I had a small, but loyal client base, I wanted to grow. Then came the offer: speak at the Business Transformation & Operational Excellence Summit (BTOES) in Orlando.

I was skeptical. Why me? Was it legit? And how much would it cost?

I spoke with Jeff, one of the conference reps. He explained the audience, the platform, and the opportunity to sponsor. It came with a booth, a book signing, and two workshops. After some negotiation and soul searching, I signed up.

I talked to my marketing mentor. Her advice: “Don’t expect to get business by speaking. You’ll only be disappointed.” Challenge accepted.

I set three goals:

1. Have as much fun as possible.

2. Meet great people.

3. Land one new client.

I had no idea how to set up a booth, but I figured it out. I even brought dozens of Ninja squeeze toys to draw people in.

At a networking session, I met a guy with great energy. We hit it off instantly. When he asked what I did, I told him: “I get $!&% done!” He laughed and kept finding me throughout the conference.

That man was Ronald, the CEO of a hydrogen startup. By the end of the week, he told everyone I was going to help him. And I did. For the next year, I supported his growing company and built a great friendship along the way.

Opportunities don’t always knock, sometimes they whisper. Be bold enough to say yes, and prepared enough to follow through. That’s how doors open.

Turning the Factory Upside Down

When a packaging company reached out to me about facilitating a 3P (Production Preparation Process), I was intrigued. It’s the most advanced Kaizen approach I offer. They wanted this to be their very first experience.

Fortunately, I had an ally. Brett, a longtime colleague from my Armstrong days, had joined the company and believed 3P was the only way to address the plant’s design and operational constraints. The plant was bursting at the seams, and their lease made change feel impossible. But Brett believed they could break through.

Our goal: Develop 1–3 bold options to get the plant back on budget and positioned for growth, without relocating, if possible.

As expected, day one brought skepticism. In 3P, we ask people to suspend their constraints and imagine possibilities no one has yet seen. That’s a tall order.

The team followed the process, even when it didn’t fully make sense to them. At one point, I had to give tough love to a company veteran who wanted to skip a step and revert to his usual methods. He didn’t talk to me for a few hours, but by day three, everything changed.

The energy flipped. They saw it. They believed it. They were building something new and it could work.

By week’s end, we had two viable plans. One that reconfigured the current space and one that required a new building. Both met the business goals and sparked new thinking across the team.

At the report-out, the excitement was contagious. Brett strengthened his credibility and standing in the company. The team felt empowered. Some have since moved on, but they still reach out to say how much that 3P experience shaped them.

Breakthroughs don’t come from doing what you’ve always done. When you trust the process and your people new possibilities come into view.

Our Quest for the Holy Grail

This might sound dramatic, but in the world of suspended ceilings, we had a Holy Grail: a ceiling that looked like drywall but performed like an acoustical system. No visible grid. Total sound control. Full accessibility.

For decades, teams tried and failed. The problem? Suspended ceilings require grid for structure and access. Drywall doesn’t offer that and it also lacks acoustic performance.

Then our innovation manager had a bold idea: use the 3P Kaizen (Production Preparation Process) to tackle the problem. He knew we might not solve it in one go, but believed 3P could reveal the path forward.

I was asked to facilitate. The first sessions focused on hiding the visible grid. After many sketches and prototypes, the team landed on a clever idea: use overlapping fabric between tiles. It wasn’t perfect, but it disguised the seams better than anything we’d seen.

Some were disappointed it didn’t fully solve the challenge. But that first step revealed the next: develop a coating that could bind tiles together and create a seamless look without destroying acoustical performance.

The next 3P sessions pushed us farther. Dozens of experiments later, the team found a spray coating that did the trick. We brought in drywall contractors to test it. With their feedback, the final system was born.

After decades of struggle, we had invented a seamless, acoustical, accessible ceiling system. Within months, it hit the market. Today, that innovation drives a growing product category and is a cornerstone of the company’s success.

Breakthroughs rarely come in one giant leap. They’re built through persistence, process, and problem-solving. Sometimes the “Holy Grail” is one prototype away.

Pick Your Winning Team

I’ve told many stories from my time at Armstrong, especially about improving board flow in our Macon plant. This one’s about something less technical but equally vital: choosing the right team.

After years of helping improve various lines at Macon, leadership asked me to focus on their highest-demand line. I agreed on one condition: I wanted to hand-pick my team.

Their first response was, “Why? Can’t you just use a few operators and mechanics like you always do?”

I said, “Sure, but this time I want the best. No training, no convincing. Just execution. And we’ll need less downtime to make it happen.” They immediately said yes.

At the top of my list was Kevin. He was the most creative mechanic I’d ever worked with. He could build or fix just about anything. He wasn’t in that role anymore, but I convinced him to come out of “retirement” for this project.

We added two more top-tier mechanics, three experienced operators, and an operations manager I’d worked with before. That was our team.

Day one was spent reconnecting and joking about how I pulled Kevin back in. Then, we walked the line and laid out our plan: establish fixed “zero points,” align the equipment to those references, and lock everything down so it couldn’t drift.

Each equipment adjustment was done faster than expected. The team didn’t need to be sold. They were already bought in. And because the operations manager was on board, we had no roadblocks getting the downtime we needed.

I was amazed at how smooth it all went. Less oversight. Fewer obstacles. More results.

These days, I still love giving new people Kaizen opportunities. But when the stakes are high, I hand-pick the team. To this day, I encourage my sponsors to pick their winning team to tackle the most critical issues.

The Birth and Quiet Death of Definitions

Early in my career, I was the Quality Assurance Manager at the Sparrows Point, Maryland ceiling grid plant. Grid is the metal framework that supports ceiling tiles, and it’s a product where precision matters. The slightest variation in length—thousandths of an inch—can keep the tiles from fitting correctly, especially in long ceiling runs like you’d find in airports or large office buildings.

Most of the time, ceiling grid is meant to disappear into the background. Our corporate team was working on a product they believed would change that—a grid that would intentionally stand out. The idea was to improve the aesthetics of the ceiling using a three-dimensional face.

The product was called “Definitions.” It was a plastic cap, molded into various profiles, designed to snap onto the face of the ceiling grid to give it a bold, new look. Marketing was confident they could sell millions of feet of it. Our plant was chosen to be the first to bring it to life.

There was a technical challenge. Ceiling grid is made of metal and produced in a continuous process—roll formed, pressed, and finished all in one line. The plastic cap couldn’t be added as part of that process. It would have to be applied in a separate, manual operation.

We cleared out a section of the plant and set it up as the Definitions production area. Because the white plastic cap was highly susceptible to dirt and grime—and our main lines used lubricants—we enclosed the area with plastic curtains to keep it isolated and clean. Finished grid would be brought over, the caps snapped on, with the final product packaged and stored in a dedicated warehouse area.

Our first attempts to attach the plastic caps were unsuccessful. It wouldn’t locate properly and stay on the grid. Eventually, we designed simple fixtures to help guide and secure the cap during the process. Once we figured that out, we developed standard operating procedures and set up a two-person team: one to place the caps in position on the grid, and the other to apply the pressure, using a special piece of equipment.

Even with the process in place, everything had to be almost perfect. The cap had to be placed with pinpoint accuracy, and its width had to match the grid within .002” (less than the width of a human hair) or it would pop off.

Progress was painfully slow. Contamination, inconsistency, tight tolerances, and poor productivity constantly worked against us. Producing Definitions took many times longer than making standard grid.

We produced 250,000 linear feet of the product. By the time we wrapped up the first run, every operator on the line made it clear—they didn’t want to do it again. It was just too tedious, too frustrating, and too slow.

The product sat in our warehouse for years. If anyone ever bought a box, I don’t remember it. Feedback from installers was brutal: the caps were too delicate, required gloves to handle, and slowed them down so much that using it actually lost them money.

While Definitions itself was a failure, it sparked a line of thinking that led to real innovation. The idea of a dimensional grid look lived on—and eventually, we developed new products that achieved a similar aesthetic directly on the main manufacturing lines. Those products were far easier to make, faster to install, and went on to become successful alternatives to standard grid. They’re still sold today.

Working Like a Business Owner

During my career at Armstrong World Industries, I had the opportunity to travel across the U.S. and to many places around the world. I met impressive people everywhere, but the team I met in Team Valley, UK still stands out as some of the most invested employees I’ve ever encountered.

I was part of a four-person team visiting several of our European manufacturing plants to benchmark best practices and bring ideas back to our local manufacturing plants. The group included the industrial engineering manager, the capital engineering manager, a project engineer, and me.

As we visited plants across Germany and the Netherlands, we saw great examples of things we could adopt back home. We had some fun adventures, met interesting people, and saw some incredible sights.

Our final stop was the ceiling tile plant in Team Valley UK, which had a reputation for best-in-class performance, strong leadership, and a highly engaged workforce.

As we walked the plant floor in the morning, it was immediately obvious why the plant ran so well. Everyone was actively working to keep things running smoothly, following standard work, and using simple, effective tools to maintain operations. Operators and mechanics weren’t just doing their jobs—they were fully involved in improving them.

In the afternoon, we sat in on a technical review by the company’s leading dryer scientist. The room was full, and the discussion dove deep into the science of curing ceiling tiles. I was completely lost in the technical details—and I would’ve dozed if not for the energy in the room.

What kept it alive was the engagement. The most insightful, animated questions were coming from hourly operators. They weren’t there just to listen—they were trying to understand every detail so they could run their lines better. At one point, the scientist even told them, “You all understand this better than I do.” I don’t know if it was true, but it sure felt like it.

It was clear the leadership had built a culture where people truly cared. Not just about doing their jobs, but about understanding why things worked the way they did. Everyone from hourly operators to engineers was fully invested in the success of the plant.

That experience solidified something for me: the way we lead directly shapes the culture and performance of an organization. It’s not a new concept, but seeing it in action left a lasting impression. It still influences how I approach leadership and team engagement today.

Butt Ugly by Friday

I’ve collected a lot of sayings over the years I use during Kaizen events. Some are pretty familiar, like “Go to Gemba” or “Don’t let best get in the way of better.” But the one that seems to get the most attention and sticks with teams long after the event is: “Butt Ugly by Friday.”

Let me explain what it means and where it came from.

Kaizen events I facilitate run for a week or less, typically wrapping up on a Friday. By the end of the week, the team reports out to an audience and gets to show off the changes and improvements they’ve made. The challenge of Kaizen is: teams usually have more ideas than time. They want to improve many things, but they can easily get bogged down trying to make each one change perfect.

Years ago, I was facilitating a Kaizen in Pensacola, Florida. One of the teams was stuck on the same problem for two or three days. During a check-in with the local Lean manager, I mentioned the issue. His response changed the way I coach teams to this day.

“Adam,” he said, “you’ve got to tell them to get it Butt Ugly by Friday. That’s what we always say at the plant. It helps shift the mindset from perfection to progress. It doesn’t have to look pretty; it just has to work.”

I took his advice and helped the team move forward, even though their solution wasn’t perfect. It still made things better. Kaizen isn’t about perfection. It’s about improvement.

I use the term “Butt Ugly by Friday” in my introductory training with Kaizen teams on Day 1. It sets the tone right from the beginning. We’re not chasing perfect. We’re chasing better, safer, smarter, and faster. It gives teams permission to try things, test quickly, and learn fast. By the end of the week, team members remind me that they have improved things and made them “Butt Ugly by Friday.”

The phrase is simple, silly, memorable, and effective. People feel comfortable experimenting and are willing to fail quickly. Instead of waiting until the end of the week to find out if something works, they find out now.

Continuous improvement should be so simple and accessible that anyone can do it. More importantly, they actually want to. That’s how to build a culture where improvement can happen anytime, anywhere, from anybody.

An Incorrect Measure of Success

As a small business owner, customer acquisition is my biggest challenge. How do I make sure people can find me, understand what I do, and see how my services could help them?

In the early days of running my own business, I was thrilled to have clients who were willing to pay me to help them improve their business processes. I’d meet them at their facility, map out improvement opportunities, and aim to secure a paying engagement.

Sometimes, I’d get the purchase order. Other times, I wouldn’t. It was all on me. If I could paint a clear picture of how I could help, and it resonated with their needs, I’d land the job. If I couldn’t make that connection, the opportunity slipped away.

When I did win the business, I was ecstatic. It felt like a validation. People valued what I brought to the table. And if I did a good job on that first engagement, surely more work would follow. It didn’t always work that way.

I can still remember an engagement with a steel slag producer. Steel slag is the waste product from steel mills, repurposed for things like roadbeds and other construction uses. I facilitated a value stream mapping session to support their strategic planning process.

The team was extremely engaged. My sponsors seemed satisfied with the outcome. Although there were some challenging moments during the week, I thought we’d worked through them together and ended with a great result.

Surely, they’d bring me back. But they didn’t. I followed up multiple times—emails, phone calls, check-ins but got little to no response. The crickets were chirping.

That’s when I realized that acquisition is not the objective. Customer retention is the true measure of success. When you can align your approach to the needs of your client and design to fit their needs and not yours, there is a much better chance for continued collaboration.

Over the years, I’ve had my fair share of “one and done” clients. And while I’m grateful for those opportunities—and I’d like to think I helped them in a meaningful way—they’ve been some of my greatest learning moments.

Fortunately, I’ve also developed a few long-term client relationships. These are the ones where there’s alignment in approach, trust in the process, and a shared belief in the power of continuous improvement. These partnerships are where the real magic happens.

At the end of the day, quality beats quantity. If you focus on alignment, collaboration, and shared outcomes, you won’t just win business, you’ll build something that lasts.

Shining Like a Star

I love facilitating Kaizen events. They can be life-changing. Some team members grow so much over the course of a single week, it’s hard to believe they're the same person by Friday. This is the story of one such transformation, a moment that left people amazed.

Our team was working on a critical issue in the maintenance shop and support areas. It took over 20 minutes to find the parts, tools, or equipment needed for a repair. That might not sound like much, but when a maintenance technician has to go back and forth seven times for different tools or parts, the time adds up fast. It has a direct impact on equipment downtime.

We chartered and scoped the event to cover the inside maintenance shop, an upstairs storage area, a heavy-duty outdoor rack, and a shipping container (about 50 feet long) sitting on the pavement behind another building. Along with improving safety, our goal was to reduce "find time" by at least 75%, with a goal of 5 minutes or less.

The team consisted of four hourly maintenance technicians, their leader, my sponsor, an engineer, a maintenance planner, and the HR leader.

We kicked off bright and early at 6 a.m. Monday, which was the team’s normal shift start. They were quiet, skeptical, and clearly not ready for what was about to happen. I brought the energy, and a few of them perked up a bit during our Lean and 5S overview. We would be utilizing 5S (Sort, Set in Order, Shine, Standardize, Sustain) as the approach to meet our goals.

During our Gemba walk, everyone was jotting down ideas on Post-its. The spaces were packed with clutter. I could already tell we’d hit our goals easily, but the team wasn’t so sure—they were still stuck in their current state mindset.

When we walked out to the shipping container, I noticed Steve, one of the mechanics and a big, strong guy, writing furiously.

Me: “Steve, looks like you’ve got a lot to say about this container. What’s on your mind?”

Steve: “Adam, I’m in here all the time—sometimes at night, in the rain. Look at me—I sweat just walking in during summer. And it’s pitch black at night. I can’t see anything.”

Me: “What are you usually looking for?”

Steve: “PVC parts. There are thousands of them. They’re all mixed up. Sometimes it takes me hours to find what I need.”

He wasn’t exaggerating. Some of these parts were barely an inch long, mixed in boxes with all kinds of unrelated items. I wasn’t sure why they were even stored outside, but I hoped we could fix that.

After our walk, we got together to share improvement ideas. Our first step was Sort. We broke the team into three groups: one for the shop, one for the upstairs storage area, and one for the shipping container.

I volunteered for container duty. Most folks were happy to avoid it. The weather was cold but clear. The engineer joined me, and we got direction from Steve and the maintenance lead on what to toss and what had to be kept.

We filled two dumpsters with obsolete filters. It turns out a vendor handled all filter replacements now with their products. This was an easy win.

Next, we tackled the PVC parts. We loaded them onto carts and brought them inside. It was a job that took the remainder of Day 1 and part of Day 2.

Steve couldn’t believe we were actually following through on this. He started to envision a setup with labeled bins in the upstairs storage area. That night, he volunteered to present our progress update. When he stood up in front of the group, jaws dropped.

Apparently, Steve never spoke in meetings or even said much to his coworkers. He was friendly and hardworking, but mostly kept to himself. No one remembered him speaking in front of a group during his time at the plant.

The rest of the week, the transformation continued. Steve was laughing, cracking jokes, and fully engaged in every discussion. He found his spark.

By Friday, the container had been repurposed for outdoor equipment. Signage was clear and easy to follow. All the PVC parts were inside, organized, and labeled in bins. We did a test with six people who didn’t know the space, and their average "find time" was under three minutes.

During our final report-out, Steve shared what the changes meant to him. “I don’t have to go out in the dark, in bad weather, and dig around. I know exactly where everything is now. We need to do this in other places, too.”

Steve and the rest of his team will never look at clutter or wasted time the same way again. His growth didn’t just help the team, it made a difference for him personally. And that’s what Kaizen should be all about.

Value for the Customer

I’ve been helping a leading consumer brand company through their Lean journey since I started my business over six years ago. These days, they’re mostly independent. They don’t call me unless the topic is complex, strategic, or I help them see a major opportunity they hadn’t noticed.

About a year into their journey, they rolled out daily Gemba walks, which they call "Board Walks." These walks got leaders out of their offices, connecting with the people doing the work, surfacing issues, and strengthening engagement and alignment across the organization.

For a few years, these Board Walks looked the same across every location: a group of managers would visit a manufacturing line, listen to an operator or mechanic report on the past 24 hours, ask a few questions, and move on to the next area. It was a start, but something critical seemed to be missing.

I spoke to contacts at several locations about the current state of their Board Walks and what the next level could look like. One local contact told me his plant manager didn’t want to change anything, he was happy with the results and approach.

But another contact, who I’d worked closely with before, called to share his frustration. He knew they had made progress but couldn’t seem to reach the next level of performance.

We talked about the Board Walks and confirmed they hadn’t changed since they started. I suggested we run a Kaizen event focused on making those walks more effective, with the goal of improving safety and productivity.

He was intrigued. I told him I’d seen this work before at an Armstrong plant, where we’d redesigned the Gemba walks to serve our true customers: hourly production operators and mechanics. It resulted in an immediate improvement to safety and productivity.

It took nearly a year of conversations to gain enough momentum and alignment. Eventually, we got support for the Kaizen and invited representatives from four plants, with the intent that they’d take the results back home.

We kicked things off early Tuesday morning. Everyone aligned on the charter and objectives. I had hoped for more hourly participation, but we had one production operator and one maintenance technician on the team. Luckily, they were well chosen.

At 8 a.m., we joined the daily Board Walk and took notes. Everyone was scribbling on Post-its, so I expected a decent mix of observations.

Back in the meeting room, the team shared their ideas. There were plenty of suggestions, but something was missing. It didn’t feel like we had touched the core issue of customer value and engagement. I pivoted and started asking more pointed questions.

I asked, “Who is the Board Walk for?”

The manufacturing manager quickly responded, “It’s for the operators and mechanics, of course.”

Then the operator on our team spoke up. “For us? I always thought it was for management. The Board Walk does nothing for me.” That was the turning point. There were many shocked team members in the room.

We created a Current State Value Stream Map of the Board Walk, identifying every step and evaluating which ones added value from the operator’s perspective. The results were clear and painful. None of the steps provided value for the actual frontline team members.

That created a realization that the Board Walk had to be redesigned to deliver true value to the customers. Now, it became apparent what the improvement priorities would be. Any changes must improve the customer experience.

The team selected three areas to focus on: the agenda, the ground rules, and the follow-up process. During the week, they trialed these changes on one production line.

The biggest shifts in design were:

1.      A smaller, dedicated group focused on that area.

2.      The discussion shifted to what needed to happen in the next 24 hours, not just rehashing the past.

3.      Critical issues that came up would receive rapid follow-up and clear feedback.

The results were immediate. Operators felt heard. Managers were more focused. The Board Walks started to serve their true customer. Alignment and engagement skyrocketed.

Two months later, the new process had been rolled out to every line in the host plant. And at least one of the visiting sites took it back and implemented it with similar success.

This is the kind of transformation that happens when we pause to ask the right question and are willing to listen to the answer.

Does Continuous Improvement Work Have to Be Industry-Specific? You Decide.

I often meet people who are interested in the work I do, and sometimes, these conversations turn into future business opportunities. One statement I hear quite frequently goes something like this: “I see you’ve made great strides working with manufacturers in [insert industry here]. But we’re different, so I want to know what experience you have in my industry.”

Most of the time, I have to tell them that I don’t have direct experience in their industry. I know that’s not the answer they’re hoping for, so I explain that many of the principles I use are applicable across industries and situations.

The first principle I rely on is that people want to win. If there’s a problem affecting them, they want to solve it—they don’t want to be adversely impacted by it. I tap into this natural desire to win and facilitate the team toward success by engaging them and building a team-based approach to problem-solving.

All the work I do before, during, and after Kaizen events is designed to set teams up for success. I create plans tailored to tackle the specific challenges they’re facing. I also design activities and experiences that allow team members to participate, share their ideas, and take ownership of the solutions. To me, that’s the essence of winning.

Another principle I follow is that all industries involve processes that require people. As long as the team can map out the processes they’re working with and identify the waste, they have the potential to make meaningful changes. My job is to help them spot that waste and equip them with the tools and techniques to reduce or eliminate it.

My third principle is that people will always rise to the expectations we set for them. Throughout my Kaizen events, I aim to set the bar as high as possible for the team, and they almost always meet or exceed those expectations. When they do, I raise the bar even higher, and, unsurprisingly, they rise to the occasion once again.

There are many other principles I use, but in my experience, these three are enough to allow me to work effectively in any industry—no matter the complexity or my prior experience with it.

I’ll admit that I’ve missed some opportunities to help prospects just because I haven’t worked in their specific industry. But I also believe they’ve missed out on the chance to work with me and see how I could help their teams solve critical business problems in a sustainable way.

My best advice to anyone considering hiring outside help to solve critical business problems is this: rather than focusing solely on past experience, consider the approach. Make sure it fits with—and enhances—your people engagement goals and leadership style.

Hope is a Precious Commodity

In a previous story, I described how a strategy session for a building products company led to several reliability improvement Kaizen events. This story focuses on one of those events in Mississippi.

I’m passionate about helping teams improve the reliability of their processes, using basic yet effective techniques to immediately boost the performance of their manufacturing lines. The best part is that the team can see and feel the results, and the techniques I teach are easy to learn and transferable to other lines and processes within the facility.

I flew into Memphis early on a Sunday morning, with no plant commitments until the afternoon, so I decided to tour Graceland and learn more about Elvis Presley. Although I wasn’t a fan before the visit, I gained a lot of respect for the man, his philanthropic efforts, and his impressive cars and eccentric outfits. It was quite the experience.

Afterwards, I met my contact at the plant, and we set up the meeting room for the upcoming week. He mentioned that many of the team members were hourly operators and mechanics who were skeptical about what could be achieved, and whether their voices would truly be heard. We walked through the plant, and he showed me the line we would be working on. Based on what I saw, I was confident we could make a real difference and engage the team in a way that would be meaningful to them.

On Monday morning, we kicked off the session with safety expectations, introductions, a charter review, and an overview of Lean and reliability principles. I quickly learned that most of the team members had no prior experience with Lean or Kaizen, so I had to start with the basics. This typically takes about 2 to 3 hours, and I present it using PowerPoint and activities. I know that people aren’t always excited about slides, but in my experience, some foundational understanding is necessary before we take our Gemba Walk. It used to take a full day, so I think I’ve gotten more efficient at it.

During the Gemba Walk, the team members were able to connect the reliability concepts I was teaching them to the issues on the line. If they were unsure about something, I could point out specific opportunities for improvement.

Back in the meeting room, we identified and prioritized the areas we would focus on. We broke into three sub-teams, and I worked with two mechanics and an operator to begin with the most basic tasks: centerlining and leveling the equipment.

They were shocked to see how much of the equipment was misaligned and out of level. The good news is that by the second morning, everything had been leveled and centered. The better news was that when we restarted the line, it ran better than anyone could remember.

Excitement began to fill the team, and improvements were happening across the board. By Wednesday, Jake, a mechanic who had been with the plant for over 20 years and was initially skeptical, came up to me, tapped me on the shoulder, and said, “Adam, you messed up (not exactly what he said, but you get the idea)! You gave me hope!”

I told him, “I’d like to say I’m sorry, but I’m not! Now that you know what’s possible, your job is to share it with your coworkers on the other lines!”

The rest of the week flew by, and by Friday, we had achieved something we were all proud of. The difference between this line and the others in the plant was striking. Now, the only thing shutting the line down was planned maintenance.

Jake took on the role of Area Owner, proudly holding himself and others accountable for following all of the reliability and safety requirements on the line. During a recent visit to the plant, he even demonstrated the principles of reliability to my original sponsor, the vice president of manufacturing.

Skepticism had been replaced by optimism, and the plant has already begun transferring what they learned to other lines. Before long, they should have all of their lines operating at higher reliability levels.

Simpler is Safer, Lighter, and Better

I was in Florida, working with a residential building products manufacturer on our second Kaizen event together. This time, we focused on improving materials delivery to the production lines. The tasks were challenging, physically demanding, and slow, leading to high turnover in the material handling position.

Our ultimate goal was to make the job safer and easier, reducing turnover and its associated costs while boosting employee satisfaction across the organization.

We started the week with a Lean Principles workshop, followed by a Gemba Walk to observe the current processes. The good news? There were plenty of opportunities for improvement. The better news? Together, we’d brainstorm and implement solutions to reduce waste and achieve our goals.

The team divided into three sub-teams, each focusing on a specific area:

1. Delivery and loading of granular materials to the line

2. Organization of raw materials

3. Delivery and loading of rolled materials to the line

Granular Materials Team

This team observed workers shoveling materials into buckets, carrying them up a ladder, and pouring them into bins for processing—a labor-intensive and risky process. Could it be automated?

With creativity, quick thinking, and the repurposing of existing equipment, they modified a shop vacuum to draw materials directly from containers into the bins. They added a simple sensor to stop the vacuum when the bin was full and another to alert the operator when it was time to restart.

Organization Team

Using spaghetti diagrams, they mapped operator movements during daily tasks. The diagrams revealed a chaotic system: materials were stored wherever space was available, with no clear organization.

By rearranging the workspace, they created a visual and logical storage system, reducing unnecessary movement by over 75%.

Rolled Materials Team

This group tackled three main issues:

1. Placing rolls on a carrier

2. Placing the carrier on the production line’s framework

3. Moving and removing rolls when empty

To address the first issue, they replaced the heavy, cumbersome threaded rod and collar system with a smooth rod and spring clamps, similar to those used in weightlifting. This eliminated the time-consuming process of centering the roll and screwing collars into place. It also removed the need for heavy end plates, reducing the roll’s weight by over 10 pounds.

For the second and third issues, eliminating the end plates allowed them to redesign the system. They replaced the cradles on the framework with pinned locations, enabling rolls to slide directly into place and be securely pinned. This made centering effortless and eliminated the need to lift rolls over cradle points.

The Results

By the end of the event, every team had developed solutions that made the work safer, simpler, and more efficient. Even better, the changes were cost-effective and could be easily replicated across other lines in the facility.

Early feedback has been overwhelmingly positive. Employees report higher satisfaction and engagement, and we anticipate this will lead to significantly lower turnover in the material handling role.

Sometimes, the simplest solutions really are the best.

Know Your Niche

As a Kaizen Ninja, I like to believe I can help any team solve any problem. Maybe I can, maybe I can’t—but believing it was causing me to dilute my message to my target audience. Let’s face it: no one believes you can be all things to all people.

While I’ve helped businesses across many industries tackle a variety of problems, my message wasn’t resonating with the people I truly wanted to reach. It wasn’t until I came across The One Page Marketing Plan by Allan Dib that I realized the issue. Dib makes a compelling case for knowing your niche and target market. Without that clarity, it’s impossible to craft a message that will attract the right people.

I had to dig deep and figure out who I really wanted to help. It didn’t take long to land on an answer that, in hindsight, should have been obvious: I was built to help manufacturing companies.

But not just any manufacturing companies. Running a Kaizen event requires team members to dedicate 100% of their time and energy to solving a critical business problem in a sustainable way. For smaller companies, pulling key people off their regular jobs for several days can be a dealbreaker. The business might grind to a halt.

The sweet spot? Manufacturing companies with at least 50 employees. These companies typically have enough resources to pull six or more people from their daily roles without shutting everything down. With proper planning, resources can be covered through overtime or other adjustments, making it feasible for the team to focus entirely on the Kaizen process.

This realization was a game-changer. While I’ve facilitated successful Kaizen events in non-manufacturing settings, the immediate, tangible results from manufacturing events are hard to beat. On the factory floor, you can literally see the impact:

• Lines run more smoothly.

• Tasks require less effort.

• Employee feedback is positive and immediate.

There’s something uniquely gratifying about helping people in ways they can see and feel right away. That’s why I’ve honed my focus on manufacturing companies with more than 50 employees. When I visit, I can provide clear, specific examples of where I can help and the results they can expect using my Kaizen approach:

• Safety risks reduced by more than 50%.

• Changeover times cut by more than 50%.

• Productivity increased by at least 5%.

• Costs reduced.

• Quality and customer satisfaction improved.

Even better, I can share real success stories from other manufacturing teams and show how I use the Wheel of Sustainability to ensure those results last.

From time to time, I still get inquiries from non-manufacturing prospects. I’m happy to help them if there’s a good fit, but they’re no longer my target audience. I don’t actively market to them or invest extra effort trying to get their attention.

This approach has made me more focused and intentional, and for that, I’m incredibly grateful to Allan Dib and his team. Their insights helped me find—and fully embrace—my niche.

Creative Problem Solving Happens at Any Age

Problems are everywhere. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed and give up, thinking there are more problems than solutions. While it’s true we can’t solve everything—and some things are simply out of our control—my advice is to focus on the problems you can solve and be willing to experiment until you get the results you’re looking for.

If you have small children, once had small children, or were a child yourself, you know they approach problem-solving in their own way. Want to build a fort but lack proper materials? A sofa and a bedsheet—BOOM—instant fort. Scribble wildly with crayons and declare it’s the solar system? Why not?

Growing up, my parents encouraged me to experiment and try things. My father was a patent examiner, and he often shared stories about the inventions he reviewed. He was also an inventor himself. Most of the time, I thought his ideas were silly, but that didn’t stop him from coming up with new ways to solve old problems.

We had a blue 1965 Dodge station wagon (yes, I’m that old). This was before seatbelt laws, and it wasn’t unusual for kids to stand up in the back seat to get a better view of the road. Honestly, it’s amazing we survived. We used the station wagon for family trips, with Mom and Dad in the front seats and my brother and me in the back. Dad had put foam mats back there to “protect” us from the road’s bumps and potholes.

Cars in those days were noisy, and it was hard to communicate from the back to the front. My brother and I, being little boys, spent most of the ride fighting, playing, and constantly needing something: snacks, drinks, bathroom breaks, or help breaking up fights. Mom and Dad couldn’t hear us over the road noise, so Dad decided to invent a solution.

After a few failed attempts, he cut a long vacuum hose down to an eight-foot length and ran it from the back of the wagon to the front seat. If we needed something, we’d speak into the hose, and Mom or Dad could (hopefully) hear us. Amazingly, it worked. For years, we had a cutting-edge communication system that no other car—or wagon—could match.

Eventually, cars got quieter, and the need for the hose disappeared. More likely, we got too big to ride in the back of the wagon, or someone finally realized tossing two boys into the back of a car without restraints wasn’t the best idea.

These days, when I facilitate Kaizen events, I encourage my team members to think like kids: try new things, embrace curiosity, and don’t be discouraged if an idea doesn’t work on the first try. There’s always something to learn, and often, they solve problems no one else has been able to tackle. Who knows? Maybe they’ll even come up with the next advanced communication system.

A Good Story Provides a Good Opportunity

I’ve always been a storyteller. Some people enjoy my stories, while others wish I’d get to the point faster. I get it—my approach isn’t for everyone. But storytelling is how I communicate my ideas. Sometimes, it even helps me get my way or stumble into an interesting adventure. Here’s one of those adventures.

I was working with a team on a project at Armstrong’s St. Helens, Oregon, plant. Our goal was to reduce changeover time across the facility using Lean techniques and some capital investments. Things were going well, but the project required the team to spend many weeks away from home.

When you travel a lot, routines develop—familiar hotels, restaurants, bars, and, of course, the facility you’re helping. But sometimes, you just want to break out of that routine. One trip, we flew into the Seattle airport, arriving midday, and didn’t need to be at the plant until the next morning.

Someone suggested dining at the Space Needle, about 30 minutes away. It seemed like a great idea, even though we didn’t have reservations. Fueled by a spirit of adventure, we decided to drive over and see if we could talk our way into a table.

On the way, we tracked down the phone number and called to see if there were any openings. Unsurprisingly, dinner was fully booked. But we weren’t deterred.

I decided to try my hand at persuasion. I told the host a bit of a half-truth: “We’ve just arrived in Seattle, traveling all the way from Pennsylvania specifically to dine at the Space Needle. Isn’t there any way you could find seating for four people who have always dreamed of dining with you?”

To my surprise, the response was warm and accommodating: “Of course we can. You’ve come all this way; we’d hate for you to be disappointed.” Thrilled, I asked for a contact name so we could personally thank them when we arrived.

Thirty minutes later, we walked into the Space Needle, where it seemed everyone knew about “the four travelers from Pennsylvania.” They were impressed that we had flown 3,000 miles just for dinner.

We stuck to our story the entire evening and soaked in the experience. The dinner was fantastic, the views from 500 feet above Seattle were stunning, and it became a memory we’d treasure for years.

As a bonus, the experience brought our team closer. We worked together more cohesively, and we started seeking out new adventures to share throughout the project.

These days, I encourage my Kaizen teams to create shared experiences during event weeks. Whether it’s through solving problems together, team dinners, or happy hours, I’ve noticed these moments rapidly build engagement and camaraderie.

I wouldn’t necessarily recommend stretching the truth often, but this felt like a victimless crime—unless someone lost their reservation because of “four travelers from Pennsylvania.” If that’s you, this story never happened!

Improving Safety from the Perspective of our Customers

Armstrong World Industries has a strong safety culture and is relentless in driving to zero injuries globally. Early on in the journey to zero, our factories focused on compliance, holding people accountable to wear their safety glasses, safety shoes, and follow various protocols. That took safety to a certain level, but the company performance plateaued. How could we get to the next level of leadership?

The St. Helens Oregon ceiling tile plant decided to be the pilot location for behavioral based safety. In this approach, leaders demonstrated their commitment to safety by directly participating in the safety process on a continual basis. They would always talk about and demonstrate their commitment to safety through their words and actions. The plant’s safety performance improved dramatically, and the rest of the company adopted behavioral-based safety at all of the manufacturing and corporate locations.

Over the next few years, the number of global injuries was reduced by a factor of ten. While this sounds like a great improvement (it was), we still weren’t at zero, so the effort could never be reduced. I was offered the opportunity to become the production manager at St. Helens and jumped at the chance. Not only were they known for their safety approach, but also the team-based atmosphere at the plant. I had participated in many teams and projects at St. Helens prior to taking the position, so I knew firsthand what it would be like to work there. I knew I would learn a lot, while bringing my organizational skills and performance focus to the plant.

I spent many hours on the floor, getting to know the people, the processes, their approach to safety, and how I could affect performance in a positive way. One thing I quickly noticed was how everyone seemed to genuinely care about each other’s safety. I felt like a newbie, awkward in my safety conversations. The whole team was lightyears ahead of my safety understanding.

One day, I was talking to Olivia, the plant manager, about my novice level approach to safety. She told me, “Adam, you need to drop any titles and preconceived notions you have about any of your team. When you are coaching them around safety, you are equals, trying to help each other stay safe.”

That made so much sense and I wondered how she knew this was the essence of my problem. I guess they didn’t make her plant manager for nothing! I thought about it and came up with changes to my safety approach I thought would make a real difference for my team members.

I decided to be more purposeful in my interactions while on the factory floor. I wanted to find something to discuss with each team member about safety to help strengthen both our understanding and commitment to safety. I started using “Show me” questions. Here’s an example: “Show me the most critical safety risk you believe you’ll face today.” When the team member presented their issue(s), we could both engage and learn about it and even come up ways to reduce the risk. Sometimes, we could make physical changes to prevent the risk. Other times, it was just the discussion that strengthened our resolve to protect ourselves and others.

This approach to safety has helped me in all my employee interactions. Always be purposeful when working with someone, even if you just want to know about their day or their family. You can always learn something and reinforce critical information to help their efforts and lives.

Firm in our Convictions

I was promoted to business unit manager in a union facility for Armstrong World Industries. The relationship between management and the hourly employees had been strained for many years. It was so bad that on my first day on the job, there was a sign that said, “the plant will be closing in two months.” I wondered why they had so little faith in me. The shop steward told me, “Adam, even if we could trust you, we didn’t trust the person before you and won’t trust the person after you.” It was like they had given up on any form of leadership and stability.

I spent many hours on the shop floor, getting to know the employees. At least those who were willing to talk with me about something other than how horrible they thought management was. It was a very stressful time in my career. For the first six weeks of my tenure, we didn’t have a plant manager. He was relocating from Mississippi and hadn’t arrived yet.

When Bill arrived, he called his staff into a meeting to get to know each other and share our insights into the current situation. We talked about the strained relationships and non-compliance around safety and work practices. Bill listened to us carefully and asked many probing questions. Then, he told us our first priority must be to protect our employees through a consistent and strong safety program. We would go after this one requirement at a time.

The first safety compliance item we agreed to go after was the wearing of safety glasses. We had many processes that were dusty, dirty, and in some areas there was a risk of chemicals splashing on the people doing the work. So, why weren’t safety glasses already a requirement? The union proudly stated they had ended the requirement ten years ago. How was this even possible? How could management give away their rights to protect the workers, I wondered.

We couldn’t go backwards, but we could move forward. Bill met with union leadership and informed them we would be reimplementing the safety glasses requirement. The union argued vigorously, but Bill stood firm in his convictions that keeping foreign objects out of people’s eyes was more important than the additional burden of wearing the glasses. We held crew meetings to roll out the requirement. There was a two-week grace period, and then anyone who wasn’t wearing the glasses once they arrived at work would be placed in the discipline system.

Our supervisors hadn’t had to enforce this requirement for years and had looked the other way around many other safety violations. The staff agreed to be on the floor for many hours each day to help enforce the requirement and explain the thinking behind it. Early on, I received many comments similar to this one: “I hate wearing safety glasses. We never had an eye injury, and you can’t prove this will help anything.” My answer mirrored others on the staff, “I never want to wish I did something to prevent your eyes from getting injured if the unthinkable were to happen.” This answer wasn’t typically received in a positive manner.

After a few weeks, Bill called another staff meeting. We talked about how things were going. We shared the many complaints we received. Bill said, “Good. At least their talking about safety glasses, even though it’s negative. The more they talk about it, the more it’ll get into their heads.” This was an interesting approach I hadn’t thought of.

After a month and many grievances filed, employees were consistently wearing their safety glasses. Now, we were ready to roll out the next safety compliance requirement, lock-out. This caused a new furor. Lock-out was critical to preventing major injuries. Some of our equipment wasn’t even equipped to be locked out properly, so we invested a lot of money and resources to make the equipment capable of being locked out. The fuss over safety glasses subsided and the new enemy was lock-out.

Bill brought us together again and explained we would continue to roll out critical safety requirements in this manner, until we were truly compliant and protecting our workers properly. He told us the more quickly we brought a new requirement on, the sooner the prior requirement would be accepted (or at least absorbed). He was right. Over the next year, we were able to drive safety compliance while building trust of our true intentions – protecting the safety of our workers.