No meetings, no vendors, I focus and things get done;
Alas they have found me, I squint into sun.
Sorry. BSME, not BA –
Eng.
As I noted in the last post, I bailed out on the yuk of my
last job and joined up with a much smaller, more electric place to ply my
trade. It’s a start-up and my
responsibilities are much more diverse, which of course means I get involved in
more than my title would lead one to believe.
After six months, it is beginning to get more like whack-a-mole than I’d
like, though still fun as hell. Given a
few minutes for reflection, I harken back to the good old days, a few short
months ago, the halcyon times when I could work, uninterrupted, not on the
things I have to do but on the things I wanted to do.
This is where the screen goes fuzzy…and then…
My first day of work I was given a badge and a tour (which
took maybe 15 minutes). The plant
manager led me back to my new office, shook my hand, and said, “Have at
it.” Then he wandered off.
So…nobody knows me. I
know no one, except the hardy few who interviewed me for 20 minutes each (which
in itself is hilarious – how can you get a feeling for someone’s capabilities
and personality in 20 minutes, enough that you can make a decision as to
whether they can lead your team to manna?)(oh, and what the hell did I say to
make them want to hire me even though they got a just bite and not the whole
filet – can I market that bite???)(sorry – back to the story) so, really, no one knows me. I have no mandate, except to “make it
better”.
On one hand this is a scary proposition. Sure, I know I can make it better. But how do I know that the thing I make better
is the right thing? A lack of guidance
has brought down much better people than me.
But on the other…FREEDOM.
Freedom, baby, groovy. There’s a
plant out there that has a million needs and I get to decide which ones to
fill. The maintenance software has no
format – I can fix that. The process
drawings need to be edited based on what is actually out there – I can fix
that. The techs and contractors are
wandering around like moo-cows – I can fix that, too.
Learn the process.
What’s in the tanks? What happens
in that vessel? Is that a pump? Why the heck did they design it that way (btw
I’ve said that more than once, but we’ll get to that some other time)? Then walk the process. And that’s where the end of the beginning
begins.
I had not wandered far into the process when I met my first
operator. Operators like you to think
that they’re always busy (they’re not) so I kept it quick. After solid introductions, I asked a
question, listened intently for the answer, thanked him and continued on my
merry way. Later I found another (or she
found me), same routine. A bit further
on I found my first tech, working on a broken pipe. This conversation has been edited for an 8
o’clock time slot:
He: “Pardon me, sir, but may I enquire as to your purpose in
this particular location?”
Me: “I am intrigued by your methods. I have never seen anyone attempt to remedy this
sort of situation with a thumb so firmly up one’s post-digestive orifice.”
He: “I perceive that you are a comedic actor of some
sort. I suggest you find a location
other than this one. Perhaps you should
remove yourself to the office where you can write exciting memos that will be
read with great interest by all involved?”
Me: “Perhaps you could cease conversing with me and get back
to the endeavor in which you were previously engaged, but first allow me to introduce
myself. My name is Manager X. I happen to be the person to whom you are now
reporting…”
Sorry for that somewhat pointless sidebar. Too much AC Doyle as a kid… Anyway, I got to know the place and got to
know the people. I learned to curse the
name of the engineering design consultant and the original construction
contractor. With the help of my new
friends, we got started making things right.
Meanwhile, I had the time to completely overhaul the
maintenance software, identify many spare parts, figure out which vendor
supplied what parts and pieces, etc. It
was blissful. Can you imagine driving
into work, planning your day while your sub-conscious drives, and actually
getting it all done? I KNOW! It was so great it had to end.
Screen goes fuzzy again…and…we’re back to today.
Once the techs and operators figure out that you can help
them, they come in to see how you can help them. At first it’s a Saturn 5 to the ego, but when
you start missing dinners because you still want to complete your mental
checklist, it begins to feel like you’re a renter in your own house. It’s OK, because you are helping people and
improving the org. That part I can
tolerate.
And then you have the vendors. Life is a bell curve, (right?) so you have a
few really excellent sales folks who schedule their visit, look for ways they
can help, and get the hell out of the way.
The vast majority are decent.
They might stay too long, not have clue as to your needs, or just show
up in your office without any prior notice.
A few are absolutely terrible, and I had one guy who did all three of
the sins from above, several times. No PO for you. Bad
dog.
I’m not beating on the vendors here just for fun, though
obviously some should be baseballs in a home run hitting contest. I need some of these meetings because I’m dealing
with new technology and I don’t know what can help me until I see it (and oh by
the way most of the vendor websites are absolutely atrocious – I don’t want to
sign in and get your emails in perpetuity – I want info; give it up,
dammit). It’s your basic opportunity
cost – give up some time now to save some later, but if the meeting is
fruitless it’s just a cost.
Our hero is swiveling his chair, playing cribbage on his
i-phone, wishing the meeting could be over so he can get on to something
constructive. Things that took me hours
six months ago now take days. Have I
created my own Frankenstein? Am I
providing more value to the org now or was I better soon after I arrived? I have no idea. But I sure do miss the old days…
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