Boss Life (15 page)

Aside from a frosty relationship with the boss, Steve has one other weakness: he is not innovative. I can't rely on him to look at operations, identify possible improvements, and implement them. I don't know whether he doesn't care enough or isn't capable of it. He doesn't seem to spend any time making sure that the other workers do things the best way. I often see workers making choices on how to build a project that will get them into trouble, and I wonder why Steve doesn't set them onto the right path. He clearly doesn't like to interact with anyone beyond the bare minimum to divide the work up. So the shop is stuck. We don't identify best practices, don't make sure that everyone does things the same way. I'm too busy trying to deal with customers and administration to take over shop management myself. I'm mystified. Does he already have too much work to do? Does he have plans that he can't implement for some reason? I have no idea.

I think that he's unhappy that the shop has shifted from making a range of furniture items to just conference tables. I sympathize to a certain extent, but we can't make any money doing this and that. It's not efficient, in either marketing or production. If all my people were willing to work for ten dollars an hour, maybe we could survive. When everyone wants a high wage, and they all need to make mortgage and car payments, we have to face reality. Conference tables work as a business. Fine furniture does not. I've never heard him comment on whether he likes making conference tables but his demeanor speaks for itself. Always grim. The jokes and smiles have disappeared. He arrives, does his job, and then goes home.

The firing of Eduardo brings his failings into sharp focus, but I have to take some responsibility as well. I have done a very poor job of managing Steve. His resistance to any interaction with me has kept me away from him, but I have not put any effort into teaching him what I think a manager should do, nor made much comment on his style of running the shop. I have been lazy, or intimidated, or maybe overwhelmed by my other duties. And now I face the consequences.

First thing: I decide that this is not going to be Steve's last day. But I still need to talk to him. I send Emma out to find him, and he arrives a few minutes later. He sits and looks at me, silent.

“I just fired Eduardo.” No reaction. “He was falsifying his time sheets.” Silence. “Apparently this was brought to your attention? And you did nothing?”

He shrugs and replies, “I was busy.” Pause. “Getting work done.”

Now I'm getting angry. “Do you realize that in any other company, you would be fired for this? You are in charge out there and you ignored an incident of theft? I should fire you right now.” I wait for a few seconds, but he just stares at me. Unbelievable, but, as usual, I fill in the silence.

“I'm not going to fire you today. I'd love to, but I have to take some responsibility for your weakness as a manager. I never told you what to do when something like this happens. I didn't think I would need to tell you, but apparently I do, so it's on me. So here's what you do: you have a problem you don't want to deal with, just bring it to me. It's not so hard. I have to be the one to fire someone anyway. From now on, when you have an issue, I want to hear about it. You got that?”

His only reply: “Yes.” Then he sits like a stone.

“OK, we're done here,” I tell him. He stands, turns, and heads back to his bench without a backward glance.

My thought as he walks away: Why didn't I fire him? Why not do it and deal with the consequences? Do I need him that much? Maybe. Probably. I don't actually know. What happens if he's gone? How does that affect our deliveries? Who will replace him? Can I run the shop myself? Can one of the other guys step in? Or am I just being weak? Why do I always let this guy get away with disrespect? Why didn't I give him a better speech? You did the right thing—don't act out of anger. You're a fool—taking the blame for his failures.

I'm furious with myself for losing control of the situation, for being such a coward, furious with Steve for his attitude, with Eduardo for being so stupid and causing all this mess. And it's not even noon. For the rest of the day I can't unsee the look on Eduardo's face when he realized he'd been caught. What would I do if it were me? How would I explain it to my family? Would I even go home? I've never been fired. Could I wake up tomorrow and start looking for a job? Was I too harsh? What else could I do? My pity is accompanied by a less compassionate line of reasoning. Eduardo has done me a favor. He adjusted my workforce to fit a falling sales scenario. Our biweekly payroll will drop about fifteen hundred dollars, but over the course of the year it will yield about twenty-five thousand in savings.

The next morning, I steel myself and ask Steve who will be building bases. I don't mention Eduardo. I just want to put yesterday's mess behind me. Steve tells me that he's going to have Will Krieger do it. That's a good decision. Will is very fast, and his bench is right next to Eduardo's, so he'll be able to jump right into the work. Since I agree with the choice, I say nothing more. Steve has already turned back to the project he's working on. It's like nothing happened.

—

AT THE MEETING
on Monday, I go over the numbers, then I pause. I need to say a few words about Eduardo. I've been dreading this moment all weekend. Here goes nothing: “Some of you may have noticed that Eduardo hasn't been in for a few days, and you might have heard what happened. Eduardo was fired for falsifying his time sheets. Honestly, I didn't expect this from him. I don't know why he did it. I don't care why he did it. When I find out that someone is stealing from me, I will fire that person on the spot.” I look at everyone—everyone's paying attention, even Steve. “Falsifying your time sheet is stealing from me, and stealing from all of us. If we're spending money on payroll and not getting work done in return, it weakens the company. It makes it harder for me to pay the rest of you, and to pay my bills. Not a good thing. I'd like to thank the guys who brought this to my attention. You did the right thing. I want this company to provide for all of us, and to do that, we can't have thieves here.” I pause, trying to figure out how to wrap this up. “I don't think, with this crew of guys, that we will have this problem again. I hope not. If we do, I'll fire that person, too.” Speaking off the cuff is not going well. I'm not finding a way to turn this into an inspirational address. “Anyway, we all have work to do. That's the meeting.” It's the worst pep talk I've ever given. I turn and walk away. One of my special powers as boss: when I stop talking and leave, the meeting is always over. And the flip side is that when I go, I can't see what I'm walking away from. I'll never know what my people really think about Eduardo. I hope that I did the right thing.

—

AFTER LUNCH
I take a break from spreadsheets and e-mails and go out to the shop. Ron Dedrick has started building the Eurofurn prototype table. All the parts have been cut on our CNC, and he is gluing a strip of solid walnut to one of the top pieces. As I anticipated, this is a very complicated clamp setup. Ron sets each clamp in position, then tightens the screw handle to just the perfect amount of pressure. When he's done, I ask him how long it took. “With prep for clamping? That took a good hour. Milling walnut took about half an hour. This is the second top blank, and it went better than the first. The edge on the first cracked and I had to rip it off and start over. All morning, and I just have two done.” I take a good look at the first top piece, which is still in clamps. It's going to take him much of the day to do this operation. I saw a machine at Eurofurn do a similar operation in a couple of minutes. I should qualify that statement. A machine that Jens told me cost $740,000 did it in a couple of minutes. And if I borrowed the money to buy that machine and paid it back over time? Ron is still cheaper, per hour. For that much money, I can employ Ron for more than fifteen years. And he can switch from one type of product to another very easily, and make sure that the wood on every one is beautifully arranged. What he can't do is turn out hundreds of tops a day. If we need to build tops that fast, I'll have to find a better method than the one he's using right now.

Over the next couple of days, Ron completes the prototype. The removable panel in the base is very tricky. It needs to fit precisely into the opening in the base. Even a tiny fraction of an inch too wide, the latches won't work. Ron completes it in two days after the top is finished.

My shop drawings show a hole in this panel that can be used to get a grip on it. Without the hole, there's no indication that the panel comes off, and no place to grip and pull it. Ron has cut the panel to exactly the right size. He has mounted the hardware and pressed the panel in place. Then he comes to get me. All three panels—two permanently glued, one removable—present a smooth, unbroken surface. No gaps anywhere between the panels and the solid pieces that make up the sharper corners of the base. A triumph of craftsmanship. But I can't tell which panel will open. The hole at the top of the removable panel is invisible unless I get down on my knees to look for it. Hmmm. Nobody is going to do that. You should be able to look at this base from a standing position and, at a glance, know what to do and how to do it. I ask Ron how well the latches work. He smirks. “Try it.” I have to put a lot of oomph in exactly the right place to pop the panel off. And when it finally releases, I have been pulling so hard that I nearly fall over backward. Ron's smiling with his special “this is a stupid design, even though I built it perfectly” face.

“OK, we need to make this easier to operate. I'll get Andy to find different hardware. I want enough of a gap to show that the panel is removable. And we can add a notch to the base behind the panel so that we can get fingers behind it to pull. That should do it.” These modifications make it much easier to remove the panel. It would work even better with another hole or a knob at the bottom of the panel, but that will clutter up the clean surfaces that Eurofurn loves.

The hatches that cover the power/data ports on the tabletop are also problematic. In Germany, they use a small, sleek, precise hinge and have custom machines to cut the special holes required. Those hinge cutters cost fifteen hundred dollars each, and you need two of them to cut left and right holes. The hinges we've chosen don't require special equipment and they are invisible when the hatch is closed, giving us that very clean, very sleek Eurofurn look. But when opened, the hinges are quite prominent. Our solution isn't as elegant as the German hinges, but we've shown what we intend to do in our shop drawings. And they approved the design. Ron builds these hatches exactly as shown in the drawings. They work fine.

I'm tired of paying good money to rent a PT Cruiser, so on Thursday I head to a local Toyota dealer—I'll call them Automall Toyota. I got an online quote for a Prius at five hundred dollars under list price, but the dealer that sent me that quote is a hundred miles away. I thought that I'd stop by Automall and see whether they would match it. My experience is a stark contrast to Urban Toyota. A receptionist greets me immediately and a salesman is at my side within a minute. He's about my age, about my height, slim and professional looking. His name is Steve. I tell him that I want to see the big Prius. He returns with keys within three minutes. Once we are in the car, he insists on going over the controls and draws my attention to three buttons between the two front seats that change the driving mode. Driving mode? Yes, this car can transform instantly from an eco-friendly fuel sipper to a howling rocket sled, with an intermediate step in between. We head off in the eco mode, and I recognize the sluggish golf cart that I drove the week before. Steve leans over and punches the power-mode button, and suddenly it's an entirely different car. It handles a steep highway on-ramp without difficulty. We take it out onto the local expressway and it drives very well.

Back in the showroom, I pull out my price quote. “Here's an offer from WayFarAway Toyota, for the car at $27,100. I'd rather not drive a hundred miles, so if you can match this, I'll write you a check right now.” Steve checks with the manager, and a couple of minutes later, he's back with the paperwork. Deal.

Automall Toyota seemed to know exactly how I wanted to shop: they clearly explained the product, showed some flexibility on the price, didn't waste my time, and got my money. I picked up my new car the next day. Could I have gotten an even better price? Maybe. But I like to buy things, enjoy them, and not look back. I'm still wondering why Urban Toyota didn't seem interested in my business. Oh well, their loss.

My sister solves the minivan problem. She's selling her 2009 Sienna. My nephew is just starting college, and she can't handle tuition bills and a car payment at the same time. She wants $14,000. Done. Solving my car problem cost me $44,000. I still have $34,000 to live on for the rest of the year. As long as Peter doesn't start college in the fall, I'll be OK.

—

MY
MONTHLY VISTAGE
meeting falls on Tuesday, May 15. We all start the session at a whiteboard, giving scores for both our personal life and business prospects. We're using a scale from 1 (suicidal) to 10 (euphoric). I can give myself a reasonable personal score, but how should I rate my business?

It's a tough question. I'm trying to organize an unruly set of facts into a coherent story. This narrative needs to be both an assessment and a prediction, combining recent events with what I think will come next. I have all kinds of material to work with, but my mind returns consistently to a number of distressing trends. Inquiries seem to be drying up. Halfway through May, and we have booked just $71,321 in new orders. We stand at $787,550 for the year, far behind my target of $900,000 for this date. The Germans think I'm special, but they also told me that Europe is suffering from a dismal economy. And the newspapers tell me that the United States might be headed for another recession. We sell to a very wide range of customers, and every day Google tells me that thousands of people search for our product. Where are they? Who are the people who might have clicked, might have called, might have bought, but didn't? What changed their minds? Am I about to become victim to another crash? As in 2008, I don't have a lot of money on hand, and can't expect much more in the near future. I don't have a pipeline full of orders. I survived the last crash by laying off workers and cutting everyone else's pay. I'm not sure that I have the stomach to go through it again, and I'm not sure that we'll survive another down cycle. I rate my business prospects: three out of ten. My score is by far the lowest one on the board.