If you are production oriented, I’m betting that you have frequently looked at your watch, phone, or computer to see what time it was. Time is a precious commodity, especially when you are supporting production. When I was a kid, first starting out in manufacturing as a sweeper, and came in late, the Production Manager looked at his watch and said, “You are late.” I was late, but only by five minutes. Surely, he couldn’t be upset over my arrival’s slight deviation. I was about to complain that I wasn’t that late when he raised his hand and said, “Production is like a train station. Does it really matter if you are five minutes early or five minutes late? You’re damn right it matters. You, young man, are important to my plan. When you are late, my plan is late. I plan to get [insert metric here] done today, and now I am off to a late start. You may only be a sweeper in your mind, but to me, you matter. If not, I wouldn’t have hired you.”
That conversation has stuck with me over the years. Why? Because he not only illustrated the importance of time but also made me feel like I was a part of something. He was the leader, and I was part of the team. He needed me, and that made me feel like I was part of something bigger than my time card. From that point on, I was at least five minutes early and worked as hard as possible to show him he was right to put his faith in me. Be it as a sweeper, builder, electrician, plumber, or the floater who could do any job in the plant, wherever he needed to catch up, I was the guy he put in there. For me, it was a challenge to be the best. For him, I was still an important cog in the machine, albeit maybe a little more useful as I grew up.
I came to work early every day, hoping the production manager had a special project he needed me to do. One day, he told me he was leaving for a better job, and I was devastated. How would our team operate without him? The day came when he was gone, and a new production manager took his place. It wasn’t the same. The new guy didn’t make us feel important to the overall effort. You were there to do a job, and he was going to make sure you did it, or else. People didn’t feel needed or motivated beyond their paycheck. Pride became indifference, and productivity was measured in hours worked, usually including a lot of overtime, not product produced efficiently. When I had a chance to leave for a better job, I took it, as did many others
Although it was only the first five years of my career in manufacturing, it has made a big impression on me. As I progressed through purchasing, engineering, and plant/general management, I’ve always tried to be like my first production manager. It has made me who I was as a multiplant GM, and even today as a Recruiter. I want my candidates to feel needed and valued. I try only to work with employers who have the same values, who incidentally also seem to be the ones with better success measured in profits, productivity, and retention. It’s only my story, one story, but in reflection, I’d say I was lucky that my first job was working for the best production manager in the industry.