by Paul Downs
Will nods, and I give him my last piece of advice. “When you’re out there, I want you to do it like I do it. I may not be a rich man, but I’ve kept the doors open for twenty-six years, so I know something about running a shop. And people don’t quit, so I can’t be all that bad. Here are my rules: take everyone seriously. Don’t discount someone because of how they look, or where they came from, or because you don’t like the way they talk. I’ve had a lot of employees, and they all usually have some flaws along with their strengths. Try to get past the weaknesses and bring out their strengths. Always stay calm. Never shout, never even raise your voice. If someone does something good, tell them, right there and in public. If somebody screws up, take them to a private area to discuss it. I don’t like to spend time blaming people for mistakes. Move right to figuring out what happened and how to keep it from happening again. And don’t forget to listen. Let your people have a chance to contribute their ideas, or their excuses. Then you get the final word. That’s being a boss. Does all that make sense to you?” Will thinks for a minute and then starts to talk. As on Friday, he repeats my advice back to me, in his own words. I’m relieved—it looks as though he’s got it down. “So you’re ready for this?” is my last question. He says that he is, and heads out to the shop floor. I hope I’ve made the right decision.
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WHEN I GET HOME, Nancy has bad news. “They’ve kicked Henry off the bus. They said he attacked the driver. They wanted to kick him out of camp, but I spent all day on the phone begging them to reconsider, and got them to agree that he could come tomorrow. But we have to drive him both ways.” The driver swore that Henry grabbed him from behind and started shaking him. “While they were driving?” It seems unbelievable. He likes to look out the window and rock back and forth to his music. We agree that I’ll make the morning drive, and she’ll pick him up.
The next morning, after driving an hour, I pull up to the camp. I’m fifteen minutes early. A woman with a clipboard tells me that I need to wait in my car until camp opens at nine. While we’re waiting, buses and vans carrying more campers are showing up. The clipboard woman directs them to a circular drive, where they line up and wait. Nobody gets out. All these vehicles are packed with special needs kids, simply sitting.
At a few minutes to nine, I can see the camp staff come out of the cabins and line up near the vans. There are lots of them, mostly young women. Everyone waits, but the counselors are smiling and waving at the vans and buses. And then at nine, Clipboard Woman blows a whistle, and the first van opens its doors and disgorges about a dozen campers. This first group is greeted by about a half-dozen counselors and heads off to the cabins. The counselors are very cheerful, and most of the campers seem happy as well. The same procedure is repeated for each bus and van. There are fourteen vehicles. This is going to take a while.
I walk in with Henry, and one of the counselors, a young man in his late twenties, comes up and introduces himself. “I’m Robert. I take care of Henry. And how’s he doing today?” He takes Henry by the hand and leads him to one of the buildings. I ask Clipboard Woman what happened yesterday with the bus driver. She seems very happy to meet me. “Oh, I heard about that. It was right here, while the bus was waiting to unload.” Now it makes sense. Henry, packed in a van with a dozen other kids, waiting for some indeterminate period. A recipe for disaster. I ask her whether he is still welcome if my wife and I do the driving, and she says, “Sure, we love Henry. We didn’t have a problem with him. Just that driver.” Whew. Driving him out every morning will eat two hours of my day, but it will give my wife some relief.
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WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON. It’s a payroll week, and my AdWords credit card payment is up as well. And the other credit card, which now carries a balance of $36,644, is due next week. And one of the orders we got, from the huge bank in Washington, has net-30 terms (meaning they have thirty calendar days to pay). I won’t be getting any money from them until a month after we deliver. My cash position is not secure. I’m trying to feel confident that all my fixes are going to work, that the clump of sales that started the month wasn’t a fluke. Are all those inquiries as good as they seem?
Thursday morning finds us back at sales training. In last week’s session, Rob Sinton gave us an hour on bonding and rapport. Schmoozing the client to establish a human connection is critical when there’s repeated interaction between the buyer and the seller. That’s us. Sinton gives us techniques, but he doesn’t address something that intrigues me: charisma. Some people are just fun to talk to and be with, and others, you can’t get away from fast enough. I don’t think that I have an unusual amount of charisma. I’m not a good schmoozer, which probably comes across very clearly. It’s why our old selling process was so hands-off. Our proposals demonstrated our expertise without a lot of personal interaction. Sinton reminds me that getting caught up in some friendly chat with buyers is less important than making the effort to do it. It’s like the hymn that starts a church service—a way to separate buyer and seller from the dramas of their day and get them to focus on each other. It’s a prelude to the real action. “You’re in a great position to close the deal, or to work the situation in other ways. To see your competitor’s proposals. To get a chance to revise your bid. To get referrals.”
Later on Thursday, a couple of big jobs come in. Dan’s client in Maryland follows through. It’s a $33,180 order for three tables. And two weeks after we shipped their prototype, Brand Advantage at last is ready to go ahead with the whole order. No complaints about the prototype. They still need us to ship by the beginning of September. For $40,266, we’ll make it happen.
On Friday, Nick closes with a trucking company in Virginia, an eighteen-foot table that we can make in our sleep. Another $16,042 goes onto the week’s tally. We finish the week with a total of $89,488. It’s our best since February. Even better, Dan’s computer client and Brand Advantage sent us checks to seal their deals. We’ve picked up $62,795 in cash. I send out $45,903 for payroll, the AdWords card, and to pay my vendors. My bank balance is $16,892 bigger than it was on Monday.
—
ON MONDAY, I report that sales this month have been good so far. The total stands at $157,128, with two full weeks remaining. We have work through the end of August and the beginning of September—almost a month of backlog. I’d really like to see the shop speed up production. July’s total was terrible. The guys completed projects worth $115,337, way below our target of $200,000. I’m hoping that Will Krieger will help turn this around. Is there anything I can do to help him? It’s odd that I should even ask this question. But I’m used to a very different relationship with my shop foreman, and I’m not sure what to do differently.
A way to help Will falls out of the blue. After lunch, Bob Foote comes to my office. “There’s someone here to see you.” A very tall, strongly built young man gives me a big smile and holds out his hand. Grip like iron. “I’m Nathan Johnson, sir, and I’m looking for work. Any work. I’m strong, and smart, and I work hard. Are you by any chance hiring today?” I hadn’t considered it, but now that this fellow is here, and some work has come in, maybe it’s time to hire a helper.
“We could use someone to keep the place clean and take the trash downstairs. Would you be interested in something like that?” He gives another huge smile. “Absolutely, sir, you bet I’d consider it. When can I start?” Hold it, pal. “I haven’t decided to hire you yet. Put together a résumé. Make sure it has three references. You can fax or e-mail it to me. I’ll call your references, and if I like what I hear, I’ll call you for an interview. Make sure you have a phone number on the résumé.” Nathan promises to have a résumé to me first thing in the morning. We’ll see.
Tuesday, seven-thirty a.m. I’ve persuaded Nancy to drive Henry to camp so that I can attend my Vistage meeting. I’ve invited Will to join me. A guest speaker starts with the steps he took to transform his business, an ordinary accounting firm, into a place wher
e people enjoy their work while taking care of customers, too. And everyone makes money. I wish I had that kind of business. The second half of the talk is about how we can transform our own culture. His people have to follow thirty-six rules, and he’s instituted a ritual to make sure they live up to them. Each week, one of the rules is the focus of their team meeting, and employees are asked to contribute examples of how they implemented it. And after thirty-six weeks, when they’ve gone through the whole list? They start again at number one.
I’m looking at the rules, printed out on a business card. I try to imagine how this would play out with my crew. Would any of them contribute a sparkling anecdote for tip number 3: “Practice A-Plus-Ness as a Way of Life”? Would Steve Maturin follow tip number 10: “Keep Things Fun! The world has much larger problems than our own. Keep perspective! Be lighthearted, and smile, smile, smile!”?
When the meeting adjourns for a few minutes, I ask Will what he thinks. “It’s a different way of doing things, that’s for sure. And a lot of it makes sense. We should try some of this stuff.” I’m a little surprised to hear this, as I had dismissed it as fast as I was hearing it. Will continues, “We’re already doing a lot of it. Some you tell us all the time: ‘Do What’s Best for the Client.’ Or ‘Practice Blameless Problem Solving.’ And ‘Maintain a Solution Orientation Rather Than a Problem Orientation.’ That’s exactly what you told me to do last week. And you remember when he was talking about how they treat new hires, how they give them all these rules and make sure they know what to expect and what to do? We should do that.” He’s got a point. Will heads back to the shop, and I stay and report to the group that there’s been a small improvement in my situation. Trying to revamp our sales process has been very interesting, but it’s too soon to tell whether I’ve really fixed the problem. And I just replaced my shop manager with a new guy who has a lot of ideas and energy. My peers seem glad to hear that I’ve done something.
After lunch, I’m surprised to find Nathan Johnson’s résumé on my desk. Three jobs listed, no typos or grammatical mistakes. Nathan has been working at a local moving company for almost a year. Before that, six months with a temporary agency, then a four-year gap, preceded by a year at McDonald’s. And he’s got three references: a fellow worker at the moving company, his mother, and a minister.
I call the minister, who tells me he’s the pastor of a Baptist church. I tell him he’s been listed as a reference. Does he know Nathan? “Nathaniel Johnson? Sure, I know him. Nathaniel is doing pretty well these days. I’d say that of all of the younger men I have, he’s a pretty good bet. He’s been coming to church since . . . for a couple of years now. A very energetic young man.” Would he hire Nathan for the kind of job I have open? He would; Nathaniel would make a good fit. I arrange for Nathan to come in at eleven-thirty tomorrow and then I tell Emma to do a background check on him.
—
WHEN I PICK UP HENRY, Robert the counselor tells me that Henry is sweet, and no trouble, especially compared to some of the other kids. He laughs. “One of them came after me with scissors yesterday. And I got bit last week.” He shows me a crescent-shaped scab on his arm. Robert has been working at this camp for seven years. During the school year, he’s an aide in an autism support classroom. That’s a hard job—I’ve been in those classrooms. So what does Robert do during his summer break? The same thing. Robert is a good example of the kind of person who works with kids like Henry. They genuinely love children and do their best to work with the most challenging ones. It makes me wonder. Why is one person devoted to helping kids while another spends his day at a workbench, making furniture? How does our internal circuitry determine the jobs we do? Was it inevitable that I become a boss, no matter where I worked? Or am I better suited to be a worker and am in charge only by accident?
—
THE NEXT MORNING, I contemplate my $36,644 Chase credit card balance. I have more cash on hand than I’ve had in months. Just three days into this week, I’ve added $31,018 to Monday’s balance, $95,835. I sent out a bunch of bills yesterday, to lumber vendors and for the health insurance. I have $113,898 left. Sales are not bad. I closed a deal yesterday, to the accounting firm on the receiving end of my first Glance session. Total for this month: $172,490. I could pay off the whole thing. Is this prudent? I’d have $77,254 left, with another bunch of bills due on Friday. And next Tuesday, another payroll. And at the end of the month, rent. All that will add up to another $50,000 or so due before Labor Day, when everything slows down. I decide to send Chase just enough to cover my new purchases and a bit more. That’s $15,000. I’ll roll the rest to next month and see what happens after Labor Day.
Financial decisions complete, I find Will Krieger. Does he want to interview a potential helper? He’ll be in charge of Nathan Johnson if I hire him. He’s happy with the idea. “We’re wasting so much time moving trash. These guys should be busting out tables, not hauling garbage. If you like this guy, come get me and I’ll talk to him.”
Nathan Johnson appears at 11:25. I take him into our little conference room. I’m struck by how large and strong he is. He could be an NFL linebacker. “I see that you’ve been working at the movers and temping for the last two years. Before that there’s a four-year gap, and then the McDonald’s job. What were you doing during those four years?” I suspected that he might have been in prison, but Emma’s background check turned up nothing. Was he in the military? Traveling in foreign lands? Or just hanging out?
Suddenly, he’s sweating, but he keeps smiling and delivers his answer with surprising confidence. “Oh, you know how it is when you’re young, you can make mistakes and fall in with the wrong people.”
“So you were in jail?” He hesitates, then admits that he was. “What for?” I’m not sure I’m legally allowed to ask this question, but I don’t want to hire someone with a conviction for a violent crime. “Listen, I just want you to tell me the truth. I suspected that you might have done some time. If I weren’t interested in giving you a chance, I wouldn’t have called you for the interview. Your minister had nice things to say about you. So tell me what happened.” He relaxes a bit. He and some friends robbed a local drug dealer. Nobody got hurt, but they got caught. He’s been trying to stay straight for the past two years. If I give him a chance, he’ll make sure I’m glad I did. I do want to hire him. He showed up on time and he’s made a great impression with his confident demeanor. Will meets with him and confirms my impressions. “I’m OK with it if you want to give him a try.” I offer Nathan twelve dollars an hour, full time, benefits. He’s delighted. He’ll start on Monday. I watch him go through the door, walking tall, a man with a new job. A good day for everyone. It’s one of the best things I get to do.
—
WE BOOKED ONE MORE SALE on Thursday for $15,419. Total for the month: $187,909 with a week to go. On Monday, I rush through the good numbers: $30,781 in sales last week, for a monthly total of $187,909. We took in $7,880 more cash than we spent. And we received twenty-three inquiries, tying our best inquiry week, also this month. Then I introduce Nathan. “I’d like to introduce our new helper, Nathan Johnson. He’ll be doing what Jésus was doing, keeping the place clean and helping bring in materials.”
I’ve been thinking about something the Vistage speaker said about on-boarding a new employee: you want to tell them how the company works and explain how they fit in. Fill their mind with your message before they come to their own conclusions. I ask Bob Foote to give me a minute. We go into my private office.
“So you are going to be in charge of Nathan Johnson minute-by-minute. Will spoke to him last week at the interview and he thinks that he’s OK. But he’s going to let you take charge of him. Here’s what I want you to do. Don’t just hand him a broom and walk away. I want you to tell him why it’s important that we have a helper. That keeping the shop clean makes the other guys more efficient; that they rely on him to do a good job; that his trips to the loading dock for materials
are essential for feeding the factory; that everyone will respect what he does if he does it well. And that he can ask you any questions about how it’s going, and that he’s free to ask me questions as well. Can you do that?” Bob says he certainly can; he’ll have that chat right away. Terrific.
Out on the shop floor, Will Krieger is heaving a 5-by-10-foot sheet of melamine onto the CNC machine. It weighs about a hundred and forty pounds, but he manages to shift it onto the machine bed. “Is this Brand Advantage?” He confirms that it is. “How long to cut all of them?” He tells me that they will be done by midday tomorrow. “When will the legs be here?” They are shipping today, if I sent them a check last week. I did. We sold the Brand Advantage job for $40,266, but the leg sets are costing me $15,574. Subtract as well the sheets, crating, and shipping, and the balance is not adding nearly as much to the bottom line as I would like.