“So, what has to change?” I asked again. The schedule was staring at Miguel. The blank squares were screaming to be filled with someone’s name.

“I know, as the manager, I should be doing other things. But I can’t get to them until I get this schedule done. And no one else can do this schedule,” Miguel fired back.

“And why can’t anyone else do this schedule?”

Now, that was a barn stopper.

Miguel sat back again. “Because.” He stopped. “Because, I haven’t trusted anybody to do it.” He stopped again. “But, if I am going to have a life, and if I am going to run an 18 hour shift with double the headcount, I am going to have to trust someone.”

“Here’s the challenge,” I responded. “You haven’t had a heart attack yet, so you can work more than two hours a day. But I don’t want to see you scheduled for more than 45 hours per week, and I want to see your personal schedule. And on that schedule better be some time to coach two other people on putting the team schedule together.” -TF
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Miguel sat back in his chair. “If you are not going to hire another manager to take over the additional chores, to make sure this place runs the way it’s supposed to, then I have to change some things around here.”

“Miguel, if you had a heart attack (which is the way you are headed, by the way), and the doctor said you could only work two hours per day, and only from your hospital bed, how would you keep this place up and running?”

Miguel almost snorted, stifling a laugh. “There’s no way,” he chided, shaking his head from side to side.

“I know. But if there was a way, how would you do it?”

“Well, first of all, I would have to have some eyes and ears in here, watching and monitoring. I would have to get the daily production numbers, to make sure things were okay.” Miguel stopped. He knew this was impossible, but he had started to think.

“And if you had spent your two hours for the day, and your doctor had shut off the phone, and there was a problem on the plant floor, what would have to happen?”

“Well, someone would have to be able to make a decision, and the team would have to be trained to handle the most likely problems.”

“So, Miguel. Look down at your desk. What are you working on? Are you working on a person, to help them learn how to make decisions? Are you figuring out how to get your team trained to handle a little chaos?”

Miguel looked down at the ballpoint pen, laying across an unfinished work schedule. He looked sad. “No, I can’t get to stuff like that until I get this schedule done.”
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Miguel was stunned. At some point, he thought I was a nice guy, but now he was not so sure. He was already working twelve hour days running a 10 hour staggered shift. We were about to expand to an 18 hour swing shift and expected Miguel to run the whole thing. Welcome to management.

“But I am already working as hard as I can,” Miguel protested. “How can you possibly expect more?”

“I expect more, because you are capable of more,” I replied. Miguel’s face turned blank. He was tired of fighting. He was tired of fighting the twelve hour days, he was tired of fighting me, but mostly he was tired of fighting his own thinking.

“I can’t work this way any longer,” he resigned. “Something has to give. I am already in trouble with my wife. I hardly get to play with my kids. My golf clubs have rust on them.”

“And I want you to manage a longer work process with about double the headcount you have now. What are you going to change?” -TF

Miguel looked at me, then back to the schedule on his desk. He put the pen down and let out a sigh.

“It’s not going to get any better, is it?” he asked. We had been talking about the 12 hour days he had been putting in since becoming a manager. I didn’t say a word. Miguel continued.

“But, it’s my responsibility. I feel guilty if I’m not here and something goes wrong.”

“Miguel, you are in charge of this work area, running two shifts on staggered schedules. What if I told you, we were planning to ramp up production in two months, to add another shift to run 18 hours per day? What would you do, then?” Miguel’s eyes got wide. I raised my eyebrows in response. “What are you going to do then?” I repeated.

“Well, I don’t know, you would have to get a different manager for the other shift.”

“Miguel, you are the manager for this work area. Everything that happens here is your responsibility. I will not have another manager so you can blame each other for things going wrong. I want one person to be responsible for the area. That’s you.” I stopped to gauge his reaction.

“Well, how am I going to do that?” Miguel responded.

“That’s what I want to know, how are you going to do that?” -TF
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It was 6:30p when I stopped by Miguel’s office. “What’s up?” I asked.

Miguel picked his eyes up off the paper, holding his place on the schedule with a ballpoint pen. “Just going over tomorrow. It’s going to be another big day. Three special orders to get out the door.”

“Where is everyone, why are you still here?”

“Oh, we shut down at 4:30p. My crew is up with the chickens, tomorrow we start at 6:30a. I run a staggered shift. The first guys get the day started, then we’re full strength by 7:30a. The first wave is off by 3:30p, while the second wave picks up the pieces for the day.”

“Why are you still here?” I repeated.

“Well, there is just a bunch of little things that have to be done each day. Sort of out of control, huh? This won’t last forever. My schedule is getting better.”

“How long have you been working this late?”

“Gosh, ever since I became the supervisor, I guess. But it’s going to get better, soon.” Miguel looked optimistic.

I didn’t believe him. -TF
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