Rancor Be Gone

I've noticed that fanaticism often becomes the gross summary of a person misunderstood.

Inside I cringe when I infrequently hear myself summarizing someone as "untrustworthy," "paranoid," or "dishonest," when their particular trait constituted only a small streak within an otherwise good person. I hate relegating to the dustbin of history the bulk of an otherwise salvageable (or misunderstood) personality trait.

As I reflect on what others must think of me, I think it interesting that almost every effort I've made to honor and obey the laws of man and God have somehow engendered resistance or eventual malefic outcome. Other than the occasional misstep, I still believe it is possible to maintain and retain friendships and business relationships, and I ponder constantly all workable ways to counter or avoid struggles that might eventually turn sour.

However, I am struck by the frequency of people who have been hurt by a business partner. When I was a kid I wondered why most old people seemed surly and mistrusting. As I get older, I see that my overriding mission is to keep normal wounds from turning to scar tissue. I don't want to be defensive, suspicious, or dour. The Savior could not manage to engender long-lived peace with those whom he knew, but as far as I can tell, he maintained a positive attitude.

In the long run I strive to keep peace within me, and work predicated on honesty, follow-through, and integrity. My understanding may be "off" when judged by those who look on my efforts as fanatical, but I try to live my life always predicated on endeavoring to do right.

The odd thing is that I'm reasonably certain that others are following the same prescription.

Would that rancor and misunderstanding be put behind us. If not merely towards beneficial cooperation, at least to tell me where I'm deficient so I can work on my problem(s).

Cheers!

Fixin' It Up

Curious George ain't got nothin' on me.

Ever since I was a small lad in western Massachusetts, I took things apart.

As my grandfather defended, "to see what makes it tick." His smile didn't dim (much) when I took apart my grandmother's favorite brass lamp, replete with chains, threaded projections, and ornate base. Can't quite recall whether or not I ever put the thing back together, but my parents suggested a few corrections to my personality during the drive home.

Nevertheless, I'm constantly amazed at what I've learned in the past few decades about how things tick.

For example, after about ten hours tonight I fixed a complex stepping motor control central processing unit that drives an industrial engraving machine. It's a big ol' computer, but with fingers and toes. Funny thing (that even amazes me) is that the fellow never told me what was wrong with it, how it stopped working, or even had schematics (detailed electronic plans) for clues. But when my wife saw me tracing a circuit board to visually uncover the electrical workings, she shook her head as if I were doing rocket surgery... which, in a way, perhaps I was.

But this is all is not about me, really. I'm nothing special, nor do I have a magical wand.

Point is that when I counsel youth, I tell them the story of how my skills appeared-- whence they came as if by magic: I can do what I do because I was poor in my teens. I think back on years and years of personal poverty (mostly through poor decisions about the use of money) and realize that I learned to repair electronics and mechanical things precisely because I didn't have the money to buy what I wanted. So I had to settle for broken motorcycles, or for cars abandoned by others-- and many "basket cases" of plain ol' stuff disassembled and cast aside. Most of my stuff started out in the trashbin.

It was through fixing things (and breaking them enough by myself) that I learned how things really tick.

Quite honestly, while I might not have made money, I was always paid experience.

And so warmly quoth I the words of Mr Harold Geneen, "In the business world, everyone is paid in two coins: cash and experience. Take the experience first; the cash will come later."

Cheers!

The Eyesight of an Eagle and the Vision of a Clam

Today's headlines of Ford's violent thrashing and gasping to cope with slumping sales saddens me. It's not news, but business as usual.

While I have no love for planned obsolescence in engineering, Ford and all their Tier1's are fellow countrymen. I feel coming tensions in their marriages, see the faces of their pained children, and watch the encroaching reality of foreclosures, just because the dingleberries in management can't get it right.

I think back on my own experiences working in Asia, and wish others could see what I saw.

Let me explain...

"Tom" Tsutomu Narita of the huge international electronics company, Omron Corporation, hired me to work in Japan in 1980s. A young engineer fresh out of Brigham Young University, I had no real idea of the fortunes that lay ahead. Yes, riches and fame and success et cetera came my way during the next decade, but far more valuable were simple lessons of humanity in business. Lessons drawn from something as simple and as deep as not wantonly crushing the ant that walks past just because 'you can.'

For example, Omron experienced extremely hard times in the mid- and late 1980s. The worldwide depression downturns lasted for years. My western experience told me to worry about being laid off. Omron still sold around US$1Billion annually, but profit margins ranged from 1% to 3% for many heart-stopping quarters.

But President Yoshio Tateishi (also written Tateisi) with founder and aged Chairman Kazuma Tateishi stated that "ALL would stay– workers were as family. As the company fared, so would all," they said.

So I became part of an astounding show of support.

When 25,000+ workers in 40 factories around the world making over 100,000 electronic products showed their sincere appreciation by putting 'shoulders to the wheel’ with voluntary overtime, extra-mile service, ZERO defects (not a concept-- a reality), and even sometimes foregone paychecks, Omron prospered, becoming the 10th to 15th largest company in Japan.

Oh yes, we invested– gladly– to support the leaders who similarly cared for us.

Smirk all you like, but it happened because we felt loved, wanted, and valued... and somewhat secure. Times were rough but virtually no one was cut. And so everyone worked smarter AND harder, and results arrived.

Back to Ford for a moment longer: For those mis-trained in western ways of quarterly profits, easy layoffs, middle-management house-cleaning (and the idiotic practice of asking high-school-grade dimwits to run HR), all I can say is companies reap what they sow. In business, Ford's laughable 'Bold Moves' show that Americans often have the eyesight of an eagle and the vision of a clam. It's not about CARS, people, it's about PEOPLE, people.

The lesson is this: “Human Resources” isn’t a euphemism.

Tom Narita showed how to treat employees right, and I wish we'd dare make such bold moves in our culture.

Cheers