The Goal: A Process of Ongoing Improvement, page 19
Having done that, we’re now in the process of calculating the hours each "work center’’ has to contribute. We’re defining a work center as any group of the same resources. Ten welders with the same skills constitute a work center. Four identical machines constitute another. The four machinists who set up and run the machines are still another, and so on. Dividing the total of work center hours needed, by the number of resources in it, gives us the relative effort per resource, a standard we can use for comparison.
Yesterday, for instance, we found the demand for injection molding machines is about 260 hours a month for all the injection molded parts that they have to process. The available time for those machines is about 280 hours per month, per resource. So that means we still have reserve capacity on those machines. But the more we get into this, the more we’re finding that the accuracy of our data is less than perfect. We’re coming up with bills of material that don’t match the routings, routings that don’t have the current run-times—or the correct machines, as we just found out—and so on.
"The problem is, we’ve been under the gun so much that a lot of the updating has just fallen by the wayside,’’ says Stacey. "Hell, with engineering changes, shifting labor around, and all that happening all the time, it’s just plain tough to keep up with it no matter what,’’ says Bob.
Ralph shakes his head. "To double-check and update every piece of data relevant to this plant could take months!’’ "Or years,’’ mumbles Bob.
I sit down and close my eyes for a second. When I open my eyes, they’re all looking at me.
"Obviously, we’re not going to have time for that,’’ I say. "We’ve only got ten weeks now to make something happen before Peach blows the whistle. I know we’re on the right track, but we’re still just limping along here. We’ve got to accept the fact we’re not going to have perfect data to work with.’’
Ralph says, "Then I have to remind you of the old data processing aphorism: Garbage in, garbage out.’’
"Wait a minute,’’ I say. "Maybe we’re being a little too methodical. Searching a data base isn’t the only way to find answers. Can’t we come up with some other faster way to isolate the bottleneck—or at least identify the candidates? When I think back to the model of the boys on the hike, it was obvious who the slower kids were on the trail. Doesn’t anybody have any hunches where the Herbie might be in the plant?’’
"But we don’t even know if we’ve got one yet,’’ says Stacey.
Bob has his hands on his hips. His mouth is half open as if he might say something. Finally, he does.
"Hell, I’ve been at this plant for more than twenty years. After that much time, I know where the problems usually seem to start,’’ he says. "I think I could put together a list of areas where we might be short on capacity; at least that would narrow the focus for us. It might save some time.’’
Stacey turns to him. "You know, you just gave me an idea. If we talk to the expeditors. They could probably tell us which parts they’re missing most of the time, and in which departments they usually go to look for them.’’
"What good is that going to do?’’ asks Ralph.
"The parts most frequently in short supply are probably the ones that would pass through a bottleneck,’’ she says. "And the department where the expeditors go to look for them is probably where we’ll find our Herbie.’’
I sit up in my seat. "Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.’’
I stand up and start to pace.
"And I’ll tell you something I just thought of,’’ I say. "Out on the trail, you could tell the slower kids by the gaps in the line. The slower the kid, the greater the distance between him and the kid in front of him. In terms of the analogy, those gaps were inventory.’’
Bob, Ralph, and Stacey stare at me.
"Don’t you see?’’ I ask them. "If we’ve got a Herbie, it’s probably going to have a huge pile of work-in-process sitting in front of it.’’
"Yeah, but we got huge piles all over the place out there,’’ says Bob.
"Then we find the biggest one,’’ I say.
"Right! That’s got to be another sure sign,’’ says Stacey.
I turn and ask, "What do you think, Ralph?’’
"Well, it all sounds worth a try,’’ says Ralph. "Once you’ve narrowed the field to maybe three of four work centers, it won’t take long for us to check your findings against the historical data just to be sure.’’
Bob looks at Ralph and says in a kidding voice, "Yeah, well, we’ve all seen how good that is.’’
But Ralph doesn’t take it in a kidding way. He looks embarrassed.
"Hey, I can only work with what I’ve got,’’ he says. "What do you want me to do?’’
"Okay, the important thing is that we have new methods to try,’’ I say. "Let’s not waste time pinning the blame on bad data. Let’s get to work.’’
Fueled by the energy of new ideas, we go to work, and the search goes quickly...so quickly, in fact, that what we discover makes me feel as though we’ve run ourselves straight into a wall.
"This is it. Hello, Herbie,’’ says Bob.
In front of us is the NCX-10.
"Are you sure this is a bottleneck?’’ I ask.
"There’s some of the proof,’’ he says as he points to the
stacks of work-in-process inventory nearby—weeks of backlog according to the report Ralph and Stacey put together and which we reviewed about an hour ago.
"We talked to the expeditors,’’ says Bob. "They say we’re always waiting for parts from this machine. Supervisors say the same. And the guy who runs this area got himself a set of earplugs to keep him from going deaf from all the bitching he gets from everyone.’’
"But this is supposed to be one of our most efficient pieces of equipment,’’ I say.
"It is,’’ says Bob. "It’s the lowest-cost, highest-rate means we have of producing these particular parts.’’
"So why is this a bottleneck?’’
"This is the only one like it we’ve got,’’ he says.
"Yes, I know that,’’ I say, and I stare at him until he explains.
"See, this machine here is only about two years old. Before we installed it, we used other machines to do what it does. But this machine can do all the operations that used to take three different machines,’’ says Bob.
He tells me about how they used to process these parts using the three separate types of machines. In one typical instance, the process times per part were something like two minutes on the first machine, eight minutes on the second, and four minutes on the third—a grand total of fourteen minutes per part. But the new NCX-10 machine can do all three processes in ten minutes per part.
I say, "You’re telling me we’re saving four minutes per part. Doesn’t that mean we’re producing more parts per hour than we were? How come we’ve got so much inventory stacked up for this thing?’’
"With the old way, we had more machines,’’ he says. "We had two of the first type, five of the second type, and three of the third type.’’
I nod, understanding now. "So you could do more parts, even though it took you longer per part. Then why did we buy the NCX-10?’’
"Each of the other machines had to have a machinist to run it,’’ Bob says. "The NCX-10 only needs two guys on it for setups. Like I said, it’s the lowest cost way for us to produce these parts.’’
I take a slow walk all the way around the machine.
"We do run this thing three shifts, don’t we?’’ I ask Bob.
"Well, we just started to again. It took a while to find a replacement for Tony, the setup guy on third shift who quit.’’
"Oh, yeah...’’ I say. Man, Peach really did it to us that day. I ask, "Bob, how long does it take to train new people on this machine?’’
"About six months,’’ he says.
I shake my head.
"That’s a big part of the problem, Al. We train somebody and after a couple of years they can go elsewhere and make a few dollars more with somebody else,’’ says Bob. "And we can’t seem to attract anybody good with the wages we offer.’’
"Well why don’t we pay more for people on this equipment?’’
"The union,’’ says Bob. "We’d get complaints, and the union would want us to up the pay-grade for all the setup people.’’
I take a last look.
"Okay, so much for this,’’ I say.
But that isn’t all. The two of us walk to the other side of the plant where Bob gives me a second introduction.
"Meet Herbie Number Two: the heat-treat department,’’ says Bob.
This one looks more like what you might think of in terms of an industrial Herbie. It’s dirty. It’s hot. It’s ugly. It’s dull. And it’s indispensable.
Heat-treat basically is a pair of furnaces ...a couple of grimy, dingy, steel boxes, the insides of which are lined with ceramic blocks. Gas burners raise the internal temperatures to the 1500-degree-Fahrenheit range.
Certain parts, after they’ve been machined or cold-worked or whatever at ordinary temperatures, can’t be worked on anymore until they’ve been treated with heat for an extended period of time. Most often, we need to soften the metal, which becomes very hard and brittle during processing, so it can have more machining done to it.
So the furnace operators put in the parts, from a dozen or less to a couple of hundred, then they fire up the thing and cook the parts in there for a long time—anywhere from six hours to sixteen hours. And afterwards, the parts always have to go through a further cool-down to air temperature outside the furnace. We lose a lot of time on this process.
"What’s the problem here—we need bigger furnaces?’’ I ask.
Bob says, "Well... yes and no. Most of the time these furnaces are running half empty.’’
"How come?’’
"It’s the expeditors who seem to cause the problem,’’ he says. "They’re always running over here and having us run five of this part or a dozen of that part just so they can have enough to assemble a shipment. So we end up having fifty parts wait while we heat-treat a handful. I mean, this operation is run like a barbershop—take a number and stand in line.’’
"So we’re not running full batches.’’
"Yeah, sometimes we are. But sometimes even if we do a full batch in number, it’s not enough to fill the furnace.’’
"The batches are too small?’’
"Or too big in size, and we have to run a second heat to handle the pieces that wouldn’t fit in the first. It just never seems to work out,’’ says Bob. "You know, a couple of years ago, there was a proposal to add a third furnace, on account of the problems.’’
"What happened to it?’’
"It was killed at the division level. They wouldn’t authorize the funds because of low efficiencies. They told us to use the capacity we’ve got. Then maybe they’d talk expansion. Besides, there was all kinds of noise about how we’ve got to save energy and how another furnace would burn twice as much fuel and all that.’’
"Okay, but if we filled the furnace every time, would we have enough capacity to meet demand?’’ I ask.
Bob laughs.
"I don’t know. We’ve never done it that way before.’’
Once upon a time, I had an idea for doing to the plant essentially what I did with the boys on the hike. I thought the best thing to do would be to reorganize everything so the resource with the least capacity would be first in the routings. All other resources would have gradual increases in capacity to make up for the statistical fluctuations passed on through dependency.
Well, the staff and I meet right after Bob and I get back to the office, and it’s pretty obvious, awfully damn quick, that my grand plan for the perfect un balanced plant with Herbie in front is just not going to fly.
"From a production standpoint, we can’t do it,’’ says Stacey. "There is just no way we can move even one Herbie—let alone two—to the front of production,’’ Bob says. "The sequence of operations has to stay the way it is. There’s nothing we can do about it.’’
"Okay, I already can see that,’’ I say.
"We’re stuck with a set of dependent events,’’ says Lou. As I listen to them, I get that old familiar feeling which comes whenever a lot of work and energy are about to go down the tubes. It’s kind of like watching a tire go flat.
I say, "Okay, if we can’t do anything to change their position in the sequence, then maybe we can increase their capacities. We’ll make them into non-bottlenecks.’’
Stacey asks, "But what about the step-up in capacity from beginning to end?’’
"We’ll reorganize...we’ll decrease capacity at the head of production and increase it each stage on through,’’ I suggest.
"Al, we’re not just talking about moving people around. How can we add capacity without adding equipment?’’ asks Bob. "And if we’re talking about equipment, we’re getting ourselves into some major capital. A second furnace on heat-treat, and possibly a second n/c machine... brother, you’re talking megabucks.’’
"The bottom line,’’ says Lou, "is that we don’t have the money. If we think we can go to Peach and ask him for excess capacity for a plant that currently isn’t making money in the middle of one of the worst years in the company’s history . . . well, excuse my French, but we’re out of our goddamned minds.’’
19
My mother and the kids and I are having dinner that evening when Mom says to me, "Aren’t you going to eat your peas, Alex?’’
I tell her, "Mom, I’m an adult now. It’s my option whether or not to eat my peas.’’
She looks hurt.
I say, "Sorry. I’m a little depressed tonight.’’
"What’s wrong, Dad?’’ asks Davey.
"Well...it’s kind of complicated,’’ I say. "Let’s just finish dinner. I’ve got to leave for the airport in a few minutes.’’
"Are you going away?’’ asks Sharon.
"No, I’m just going to pick up somebody,’’ I say.
"Is it Mommy?’’ asks Sharon.
"No, not Mommy. I wish it could be.’’
"Alex, tell your children what’s bothering you,’’ says my mother. "It affects them, too.’’
I look at the kids and realize my mother’s right. I say, "We found out we’ve got some problems at the plant which we might not be able to solve.’’
"What about the man you called?’’ she asks. "Can’t you talk to him?’’
"You mean Jonah? That’s who I’m picking up at the airport,’’ I say. "But I’m not sure even Jonah’s help will do any good.’’
Hearing this, Dave is shocked. He says, "You mean...all that stuff we learned about on the hike, about Herbie setting the speed for the whole troop and all that—none of that was true?’’
"Of course it’s still true, Dave,’’ I tell him. "The problem is, we discovered we’ve got two Herbies at the plant, and they’re right where we don’t want them. It would be as if we couldn’t rearrange the boys on the trail and Herbie had a twin brother— and now they’re both stuck in the middle of the line. They’re holding everything up. We can’t move them. We’ve got piles and piles of inventory stacked up in front of them. I don’t know what we can do.’’
Mom says, "Well, if they can’t do the work, you’ll just have to let them go.’’
"It’s not people; it’s equipment,’’ I explain. "We can’t fire machines. And, anyway, what they do is essential. We couldn’t produce most of our products without these two operations.’’
"So why don’t you make them go faster?’’ asks Sharon.
"Sure, Dad,’’ says Davey. "Remember what happened on the hike when you took Herbie’s pack from him? Maybe you could do something kind of like that in the plant.’’
"Yeah, but it’s not quite that simple,’’ I say.
Mom says, "Alex, I know you’ll do the best you can. If you’ve got these two slow pokes holding everything up, you’ll just have to keep after them and make sure they don’t waste any more time.’’
I say, "Yeah, well, I’ve got to run. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll see you in the morning.’’
Waiting at the gate, I watch Jonah’s plane taxi up to the terminal. I talked to him in Boston this afternoon just before he was leaving for Los Angeles. I told him I wanted to thank him for his advice, but that the situation at the plant was impossible so far as we could see.
