by Ann McMan
I was quitting.
It wasn’t that I didn’t consider all the things T-Bomb—and El—had pointed out about what might change and improve once the Krylons were gone. I thought about all of that. Even though it strained credibility, I tried hard to believe that it might be possible to implement a better, safer, and more worker-centered operational model in a manufacturing facility that was firmly planted in the middle of a right-to-work state.
I wanted to believe it, but I didn’t. Deep down, I knew it was a lost cause. Just like my odds at having any kind of a future with El. I was giving up on that fantasy, too.
It was time for me to move on. After I delivered my response and worked out my notice, I was going to collect what was left of my savings and my self-esteem, and I was going to find temporary housing in Louisville so I could finish my MBA as quickly as possible. Then? I wasn’t sure about what I’d do after that. But I was pretty certain that whatever it was, it wouldn’t involve staying on in Princeton.
Not in this factory, anyway. I was sure that I had value to add some place, but it wasn’t going to be here . . . not at a place where aspirations to be the best we could be were sacrificed on the altar of the least we could get away with. I was tired of living my life like a lemming, with no better sense or prospects for a brighter tomorrow. Enough was enough.
I was getting out, and that’s all there was to it.
As soon as I stepped inside the door, I realized that something was different. For one thing, it was quieter. There was still a mild cacophony of machine noise, but it was nowhere near as deafening as usual. And there were sizeable groups of people standing around in random locations.
I walked to the time clock to punch in and noticed something attached to my card.
You gotta be kidding me . . . not again?
I pulled my card out of its slot and read the folded paper clipped to it.
ATTENTION
ALL LINE SUPERVISORS AND PROCESS MANAGERS
Please be present in the company cafeteria at 7:15 a.m. for a mandatory meeting with Mr. Tam Shigeta, Director of Operations, Ogata Torakku USA. He will share important information about the future of this manufacturing facility. Your prompt attention is appreciated.
Oh shit. This couldn’t be good news.
I looked around. Judging by the expressions I was seeing on most of the faces around me, everybody else shared the same opinion.
What the hell had happened? And when did Tam Shigeta get here?
This had to be about Ruthie.
Along with their somber expressions, most people inside the plant seemed to be wearing the pink, felt hearts that had been passed out in the parking lot. It was like a curious double entendre: a memorial for Ruthie and a talisman for whatever was about to befall us all.
I didn’t see Buzz or Joe, but I did see Luanne. I walked over to where she stood holding up a section of wall near the canteen entrance. I thought she looked a little pale. No doubt Ruthie’s death, and whatever was happening here this morning, had taken some of the shine off Jailissa’s victory on Saturday.
I held up the notice. “Do you know anything more about this?”
She shook her head. “Only that a crew of big dogs from Tokyo came roarin’ in here like samurai warriors yesterday.” She lowered her voice. “I heard that Buzz Sheets got canned . . . and Earl Junior.”
I was surprised. “Really?”
She nodded. “I took a casserole by the house last night, and Wynona told me that this Shigeta fella personally walked Don K. out to his car.”
“Don K. is gone?” I was incredulous.
Luanne scoffed. “Him and his golden damn parachute. Good riddance, if you ask me.”
I didn’t know what to say. Don K. was gone? Buzz and Earl Junior, too? And now this mandatory meeting about the future of our plant?
And why was it so damn quiet in here?
“Are they shutting us down?” I asked.
“You tell me.” She clucked her tongue. “It don’t look good. Half the lines ain’t runnin.’ They started a phased work stop last shift.”
A work stop at seven-thousand dollars a minute was a big deal. A very big deal.
“Where’s Joe?” I asked.
She made an oblique gesture. “He came stormin’ back here after he heard about what happened to Ruthie. Him and Don K. had words, and Don K. fired him.” She slowly shook her head. “Jailissa is all to pieces about it . . . we ain’t heard nothin’ from Joe since last night.”
“Good god. Don K. fired Joe?”
She nodded. “Joe never wanted Earl Junior to get that warehouse job, but nobody in the front office would listen to him. You know, he’s worked with them Miles girls for nearly ten years.”
Maybe I wouldn’t have to worry about handing in my letter of resignation. Maybe there wouldn’t be anyone left to receive it.
I glanced at my watch. It was seven-ten. “I guess we need to get in there and find out what’s happening.”
Luanne sighed. “I wish I had time for a smoke.”
I didn’t tell her that I had a feeling she’d soon have all the time she wanted.
We followed a somber and morose-looking group of men and women toward the meeting location. As our group narrowed to file through the doors that led into the cafeteria, it occurred to me that we probably looked like sheep being led to the slaughter.
Once inside, I saw three people wearing khakis and dark blue Ogata polo shirts standing together on a low riser near the steam tables. Tam Shigeta was easy to pick out. He was tall and handsome, and looked exactly like every photo of him I’d ever seen in Bloomberg Business Week. I had no idea who the other two were. They were not Japanese. Something about the woman reminded me of El . . . she looked small, but powerful. They all appeared calm and composed, which put them all miles ahead of us.
Once we had all found a place to sit or stand, Tam stepped forward.
“Good morning, everyone,” he said in perfect, unaccented English. “My name is Tam Shigeta, and I am Director of Operations for Ogata Torakku, USA. I can appreciate that these circumstances seem unusual. But I hope we can clarify things in short order, and allay any fears that you or your direct reports might be experiencing due to current conditions in the plant. I’m going to read a short statement, and then we’ll do our best to answer any questions you have. Copies of this,” he held up a document, “will be made available to each of you as you leave here this morning. Please share it with employees who work in your respective areas. Additionally, a new web site, ogataUSA.com/princeton, and a toll-free information line will be up and running by this afternoon. For the near term, any notices or communications related to plant operations during this transitional period will be posted there.” He looked over the room. “Is everyone clear about that?”
He waited for a majority of heads to nod.
“Good. The web address and info line number are printed on the bottom of the statements we’ll be handing out. Encourage all of your direct reports to use it. Now, I’d like to introduce you to two people who will be helping to lead the Ogata transition team. Janice Baker.” He turned and indicated the dark-haired woman standing beside him. “Janice is a fifteen-year veteran of the automotive manufacturing business. She has a Ph.D. in industrial engineering from the Georgia Institute of Technology, and has been Ogata’s Chief Operations Analyst for the past five years. Steven Haley.” Tam indicated the other man on the riser. “Steve heads up Ogata USA’s Human Resource Development Division. He’s been with us since 1997, when we opened our first North American plant in Marysville. You’ll be seeing a lot of both of them.” He turned back to us. “Now I’d like to ask for your indulgence while I read this short, formal statement.”
He paused a moment. The only sound in the cafeteria came from frozen cubes dropping into the storage bin of the ice machine in the corner.
“Prior to the formal acquisition of the Krylon Motors Princeton Plant and its Outlaw brand several weeks ago, Ogata Torakku performed car
eful due diligence of all processes, equipment, and human factors related to the sale. We soon became aware of a series of disturbances across numerous processes that were causing plant operations to deviate from accepted and safe operating states. We also discovered that a post-acquisition/pre-transition reallocation of crucial operations and maintenance funds had occurred. Ogata intended for those funds to immediately address crucial training, process improvement, and deferred maintenance issues that were deemed likely to endanger human life or result in catastrophic consequences. That did not occur.
“We are all part of the Ogata Torakku family. The foundation of our great company is ‘Success by Purpose.’ As a corporation and as a family, Ogata Torakku is deeply saddened by the tragic loss of Ms. Ruthie Miles, and we will honor her by ensuring that no other Ogata Torakku employee is ever placed in a dangerous or inappropriate workplace situation.
“As you will soon learn, the Krylon family and many members of their senior management team are no longer associated, in any capacity, with this transition process, the Outlaw product line, or operations in the Princeton plant.
“Effective immediately, this entire facility will be put into safe state, and a team of internal and external evaluators will perform an assessment of the compliance status and associated vulnerabilities of all plant process, equipment, and personnel resources. They will work in tandem with OSHA investigators, who we expect to arrive within the next few days. This team will also consider root causes and determine immediate, near-term, and long-term response actions. The first stage of this assessment is beginning as we speak, and it will address the most critical concerns for worker and workplace safety. We anticipate, based on our initial evaluation, that we will be able to return the plant to full operation in several days.
“Until we have restored safety to the plant floor here in Princeton, Yutaka Ikeda, our esteemed CEO, has personally granted that all employees not essential for basic plant operations or those participating in our assessment, will be placed on paid leave, effective immediately.
“Unless you are contacted by Steven Haley, Ogata’s Director of Human Resource Development, you are free to leave and should plan on returning to your workstations within the next few days. Please check the web site or the toll-free information line referenced at the bottom of this memo for updates about the resumption of normal operations. Thank you.”
He lowered the paper and looked out over the room. “Does anyone have any questions?”
At the front of the room, Big Otis Fishel, a manager in the transportation unit, took off his Outlaw ball cap and scratched his head. “So, you’re really gonna pay us to sit home for a few days?”
Tam Shigeta nodded. “Yes, sir. We will.”
Big Otis still seemed dubious. “And, we’ll still have a job when we come back?”
“Yes, you will.”
“And benefits, too?” Big Otis asked. His question was like an accusation.
“Yes, sir,” Tam replied. “We will be transitioning each of you to the Ogata Torakku benefits plan during the next few weeks. You will have no loss of coverage. Once it’s implemented, we think you’ll like the new package, and the lower premium costs, much better.”
Big Otis looked around at the rest of us. “That’s all I got.”
Tam smiled at him and looked around the room. “Any other questions?”
There were no takers. After a few nervous glances at each other, we all looked back at Tam or stared at the floor.
A few more seconds ticked by. More ice cubes dropped into the stainless steel bin.
“Okay.” Tam nodded at us. “Please, enjoy this unplanned time off. We look forward to seeing you all in a few days. Remember to check the web site or the toll-free info line for updates about your schedules. Janice will meet you at the doors to hand out copies of the memo for you to share with your teams. Thank you.”
We all waited while Janice Baker made her way to the back of the room.
I looked at Luanne. “I guess we need to go and get this done.”
Her face was a study of mixed emotions. “I don’t care what time it is. I’m gonna need a cold one after this.”
From the riser, Steve Haley raised a hand. “Is Jill Fryman here?”
Luanne and I exchanged nervous glances.
“Here,” I answered.
When he saw me, he gestured toward the riser where he stood with Tam. “Would you mind staying behind for a few minutes? We’d like to speak with you.”
Great. With my luck, I’d get fired before I had a chance to resign.
I nodded at him.
“Janice will talk with your team,” he said.
I gave Luanne a forlorn look, and she squeezed my arm.
I took a deep breath and made my way toward the front of the room.
“Please sit down, Jill.”
Tam Shigeta indicated one of the plastic chairs that stood next to a round, Formica-topped lunch table. He and Steve Haley waited for me to be seated before they followed suit.
The cafeteria had emptied out. As anxious as I was feeling, it was hard not to wonder about the conversations that were going on out in the plant.
Steve Haley set a small stack of the leftover prepared statements on the table. A manila folder sat on top of them. FRYMAN, JILLIAN A. was neatly typed on a tiny label stuck to its tab.
He didn’t open the folder or pass it to Tam. I guessed they both were already familiar with its contents. I just wished I shared their understanding of what it contained. Knowing Don K. and his flunkies, it probably made for interesting reading.
Tam saw me looking at the folder. “I’m sure this feels awkward to you, Jill. But I want to assure you that this conversation doesn’t portend anything ominous.”
I raised an eyebrow at that.
Tam smiled. “Okay . . . nothing any more ominous than the announcements we’ve already made.”
I nodded. “That’s a relief.” I looked at Steve Haley. “I think.”
“What do you know about Tiger Teams?” Tam asked.
“A little,” I said. When he didn’t reply, I realized that he was waiting to hear my definition. I cleared my throat. “Well, it’s a catch phrase used to describe a group of people who are tasked to conduct oversight assessments of operations and processes. They identify vulnerabilities and recommend corrective actions. I think they’re more common to the IT and aerospace industries than they are to auto manufacturing.”
Tam and Steve looked at each other.
My nervousness inched back up a few notches.
“That’s true,” Tam said. “But we’re about to change that dynamic.”
I didn’t reply.
“I was surprised to learn that you did your undergraduate Co-Op training at Boeing in St. Louis,” Tam continued. “What kind of work did you do there?”
I was pretty sure he already knew the answer, but I told him anyway. “The program emphasis was on process improvement—Six Sigma and lean manufacturing. Most everything related to that.”
“You went through the industrial technology program at Southern Illinois?” he asked.
I nodded.
“And now you’re working on your MBA at Louisville?”
I nodded again.
“How is that progressing?” he asked.
“Slowly.”
Steve Haley chuckled. “I got my MBA at Howard while working full time, too. It’s brutal.”
“That’s why I chose Louisville. It’s a quicker and easier drive than IU in Bloomington, but still two hours each way.”
“How much more work do you have to do to finish?” he asked.
“Two terms, or four classes.” I shrugged. “Two electives and two Capstone projects.”
Steve gave me a sympathetic nod and smiled. I guessed he was about my age, or maybe a few years older. He had a kind face and an easy demeanor. I guessed that he was pretty good at his job.
“Are you at all familiar with kaizen?” Tam asked.
“I’ve
heard of it. Isn’t it a Japanese term for improvement?”
He nodded. “We call it change for the best. Know anything about how it relates to business practices?”
“Only what I read about it on the Ogata web site after the buyout was announced.”
Tam laughed. “You do your homework.”
“I never realized there’d be a quiz,” I said, in an undertone.
“I’m sorry, Jill,” Tam said it like he meant it. “That’s not what this is.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay. What is it?”
“When we received word about the circumstances surrounding the death of Ruthie Miles, we realized that we needed to expedite the transition process,” Steve Haley said. “We’re assembling a Tiger Team to address the hazards, risks, and vulnerabilities that must be corrected immediately before we return workers to the production lines.”
Tam nodded in agreement. “After that phase is completed, they’ll stay on to help us address near-term fixes and, ultimately, long-term fixes.”
The door to the cafeteria opened.
Janice Baker poked her head inside. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But could you join me for a few minutes, Steve?”
He nodded and pushed back his chair. “Sorry for the disruption.” He looked at me. “I’m sure I’ll see you later, Jill.”
I noticed that he took the pile of memos, but left my personnel folder behind.
I began to wonder if Janice’s interruption had been planned. Now I was alone in the empty cafeteria with Tam Shigeta, an icon among Fortune 500 companies.
He seemed perfectly at ease.
I think he sensed my discomfort.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why we asked to speak with you,” he said.
“To be truthful,” I replied, “I really have no idea.”
He laid his hand on top of the file folder. “I’m not going to pretend that we’re unfamiliar with your tenure here. And it’s apparent to us that you’ve been grossly underemployed at Krylon. Your education and background experience are exemplary. You’re a Six Sigma black belt with Lean Silver Certification, yet you’re still punching a time clock. Why?”