CHAPTER 1
The Problem
Monday, Day 1 of 28
I was invited to join an executive-level meeting the same day I walked into Electronicaās building for the first time. All I knew about Electronica was that it was a medium-sized company headquartered just outside of metro Detroit with factories in the United States, Mexico, China, and Poland. I also knew that there was probably a good reason why I was here. Electronicaās CEO, Bill Rasor, insisted that I attend the meeting and essentially pushed me into the conference room where everyone else was already gathered. My entrance was met with sudden silence and suspicious eyes of about 10 individuals. The sea of designer suits should have made me feel intimated, but this was not my first rodeo. I wore an old tweed suit jacket for this exact purpose. Even though I was only 49 and looked closer to 40 because I exercised and took care of myself, the jacket gave me the look of a tenured professor that took everyone back to their college days and gave a proper measure of intimidation. To put a final touch on it, I had inserted my University of Michigan pin into the lapel of the jacket, which seemed to imply that maybe I was someone important or at least that I had some brains.
āLetās get right to it, gentlemen,ā said Rasor before anyone could introduce themselves to me. He sat in a luxury leather chair at the top of the long mahogany table, and the sea of suits quickly got into their chairs. He was a tall man with a demeanor of a dictator, so it looked like he was sitting at a throne even though he had a table in front of him. There were no chairs left at the table, so I sat in one of the chairs along the wall. If I was not an outsider before, I sure felt like one now.
āSo?ā continued Rasor. āWhat is Voltaās response to our last quote?ā
A handsome dark-haired man spoke up right away seemingly anxious to grab the spotlight from Rasor. āThey donāt think weāre competitive.ā
A wave of sighs rose up from the room. The luxury leather chairs started to swing from side to side as people nervously looked around the room. Volta Motors was the largest electric car and truck manufacturer in the world, with over eight million vehicles sold annually, and it seemed Electronicaās future was on the line.
āDamn it!ā shouted Rasor. āWhy the hell not?ā
āBill,ā spoke the handsome man again, āas I said before, our previous quote was thirty percent off Voltaās target and I asked the team here to sharpen their pencils, but our latest quote is still twenty percent too high. I think their target is real, so I canāt sweet talk Volta into giving us the business unless I get better numbers from everyone.ā
So, that establishes the corporate culture I will be dealing with; shed the blame and point the finger at everyone else. Not unusual in the high-stakes business like this, but it will make my job more difficult. It will be tough to get the truth out of people. I took out my notebook and wrote down.
āISSUE #1: Sharpening pencils to get to the numbersā
āWhat happened, George? I thought you squeezed the cost out of every bucket?ā asked Rasor of a nerdy looking man sitting next to him. The manās body seemed like it would be more comfortable in a laboratory frock than the designer suit he was wearing. Or, maybe he was just not comfortable with the question.
āI did, Bill,ā said George, ābut our plant wonāt budge any further on new investment or processing cost and purchasing said that we canāt squeeze more out of the supplier quotes, so thereās not much more I can do. I already lowered our profit down to six percent. Anything below that would have to go to the board of directors for approval.ā
Here we go with some more deflection and finger pointing, I thought. Shit rolls downhill, I wonder who the plants and purchasing are going to blame. My answer came quickly.
āIf engineering could design a product that is common with our current products, then I wouldnāt need new machines!ā shouted a heavy-set man who probably represented manufacturing.
āOr smaller and less complex parts. Iām already buying at the lowest prices that I can,ā said another short man with a Spanish accent, obviously representing purchasing.
āThatās enough!ā shouted Rasor before any more fingers can be pointed. āLet me remind you again that if we donāt win this business, we are finished.ā
Rasor let the word finished hang in the air before continuing. āWe havenāt won any business in two years. Our capacity utilization is down to fifty percent. Our profit is down to two percent. Our cash flow is almost nothing. How long do you think we have before some changes are made around here?ā Nobody dared to answer this question. All the heads were hung low avoiding eye contact with Rasor. āIāll tell you how long. The final round of quotes is due to Volta in four weeks. You have exactly that long to turn this around, because if we donāt win this business, then thereās nothing else and we might as well close the doors.ā
Rasor stood up and walked over to the nearby refrigerator built into a small butlerās pantry. The silence hung in the room as he poured himself a ginger ale. He pulled something from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, but he turned his back to everyone, so I could not tell what it was. Whatever it was, he hung it over his glass then put it back into his suit jacket. I guessed it was some sort of fire water, and I could have used some myself as Rasor walked over to me.
āWhat do you think, Doug?ā he said to me. āWhat is our problem?ā
The luxury leather chairs swung toward me, and I felt daggers flying at me from the suits. I was stunned by Rasorās questions, and so, I just stared at everyone while trying to formulate an appropriate answer. I felt stupid for not having a quick and witty response. Fortunately, Rasor gave me more time by breaking up the awkwa...