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same conclusions as everyone else and that means I'll have no truer understanding of what's going on than I do now.
I'm stuck.
I turn away from the window. Behind my desk is a bookcase; I pull out a textbook, flip through it, put it back, pull out an- other, flip through it, put it back.
Finally, I've had it. It's late.
I check my watch-and I'm shocked. It's past ten o'clock. All of a sudden, I realize I never called Julie to let her know I wasn't going to be home for dinner. She's really going to be pissed off at me; she always is when I don't call.
I pick up the phone and dial. Julie answers.
"Hi," I say. "Guess who had a rotten day."
"Oh? So what else is new?" she says. "It so happens my day wasn't too hot either."
"Okay, then we both had rotten days," I tell her. "Sorry I didn't call before. I got wrapped up in something."
Long pause.
"Well, I couldn't get a babysitter anyway," she says.
Then it dawns on me; our postponed night out was sup- posed to be tonight.
"I'm sorry, Julie. I really am. It just completely slipped my mind," I tell her.
"I made dinner," she says. "When you hadn't shown up after two hours, we ate without you. Yours is in the microwave if you want it."
"Thanks."
"Remember your daughter? The little girl who's in love with you?" Julie asks.
"You don't have to be sarcastic."
"She waited by the front window for you all evening until I made her go to bed."
I shut my eyes.
"Why?" I ask.
"She's got a surprise to show you," says Julie.
I say, "Listen, I'll be home in about an hour."
"No rush," says Julie.
She hangs up before I can say good-bye.
Indeed, there is no point in rushing home at this stage of the game. I get my hard hat and glasses and take a walk out into the
plant to pay a visit to Eddie, my second shift supervisor, and see how everything is going.
When I get there, Eddie is not in his office; he's out dealing with something on the floor. I have him paged. Finally, I see him coming from way down at the other end of the plant. I watch him as he walks down. It's a five-minute wait.
Something about Eddie has always irritated me. He's a com- petent supervisor. Not outstanding, but he's okay. His work is not what bothers me. It's something else.
I watch Eddie's steady gait. Each step is very regular.
Then it hits me. That's what irritates me about Eddie: it's the way he walks. Well, it's more than that; Eddie's walk is symbolic of the kind of person he is. He walks a little bit pigeon-toed. It's as if he's literally walking a straight and narrow line. His hands cross stiffly in front of him, seeming to point at each foot. And he does all this like he read in a manual someplace that this is how walk- ing is supposed to be done.
As he approaches, I'm thinking that Eddie has probably never done anything improper in his entire life-unless it was expected of him. Call him Mr. Regularity.
We talk about some of the orders going through. As usual, everything is out of control. Eddie, of course, doesn't realize this. To him, everything is normal. And if it's normal, it must be right.
He's telling me-in elaborate detail-about what is running tonight. Just for the hell of it, I feel like asking Eddie to define what he's doing tonight in terms of something like net profit.
I want to ask him, "Say, Eddie, how's our impact on ROI been in the last hour? By the way, what's your shift done to im- prove cash flow? Are we making money?"
It's not that Eddie hasn't heard of those terms. It's just that those concerns are not part of his world. His world is one mea- sured in terms of parts per hour, man-hours worked, numbers of orders filled. He knows labor standards, he knows scrap factors, he knows run times, he knows shipping dates. Net profit, ROI, cash flow-that's just headquarters talk to Eddie. It's absurd to think I could measure Eddie's world by those three. For Eddie, there is only a vague association between what happens on his shift and how much money the company makes. Even if I could open Eddie's mind to the greater universe, it would still be very difficult to draw a clear connection between the values here on
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the plant floor and the values on the many floors of UniCo head- quarters. They're too different.
In the middle of a sentence, Eddie notices I'm looking at him funny.
"Something wrong?" asks Eddie.
When I get home, the house is dark except for one light. I try to keep it quiet as I come in. True to her word, Julie has left me some dinner in the microwave. As I open the door to see what delectable treat awaits me (it seems to be some variety of mystery meat) I hear a rustling behind me. I turn around, and there stands my little girl, Sharon, at the edge of the kitchen.
"Well! If it isn't Miz Muffet!" I exclaim. "How is the tuffet these days?"
She smiles. "Oh... not bad."
"How come you're up so late?" I ask.
She comes forward holding a manila envelope. I sit down at the kitchen table and put her on my knee. She hands the enve- lope to me to open.
"It's my report card," she says.
"No kidding?"
"You have to look at it," she tells me.
And I do.
"You got all A's!" I say.
I give her a squeeze and big kiss.
"That's terrific!" I tell her. "That's very good, Sharon. I'm really proud of you. And Til bet you were the only kid in your class to do this well."
She nods. Then she has to tell me everything. I let her go on, and half an hour later, she's barely able to keep her eyes open. I carry her up to her bed.
But tired as I am, I can't sleep. It's past midnight now. I sit in the kitchen, brooding and picking at dinner. My kid is getting A's in the second grade while Tin flunking out in business.
Maybe I should just give up, use what time I've got to try to land another job. According to what Selwin said, that's what ev- eryone at headquarters is doing. Why should I be different?
For a while, I try to convince myself that a call to a head- hunter is the smart thing to do. But, in the end, I can't. A job with another company would get Julie and me out of town, and maybe fortune would bring me an even better position than I've got now although I doubt it; my track record as a plant manager hasn't
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exactly been stellar.) What turns me against the idea of looking for another job is I'd feel I were running away. And I just can't do that.
It's not that I feel I owe my life to the plant or the town or the company, but I do feel some responsibility. And aside from that, I've invested a big chunk of my life in UniCo. I want that investment to pay off. Three months is better than nothing for a last chance.
My decision is, I'm going to do everything I can for the three months.
But that decided, the big question arises: what the hell can I really do? I've already done the best I can with what I know. More of the same is not going to do any good.
Unfortunately, I don't have a year to go back to school and re-study a lot of theory. I don't even have the time to read the magazines, papers, and reports piling up in my office. I don't have the time or the budget to screw around with consultants, making studies and all that crap. And anyway, even if I did have the time and money, I'm not sure any of those would give me a much better insight than what I've got now.