"What's the matter?" I ask him.
"What about setup time?" he says. "You can batch sizes in half, you double the number of setups. What about direct labor? We got to save on setups to keep down costs."
"Okay, I knew this would come up," I tell them. "Now look, it's time we think about this carefully. Jonah told me last night that there was a corresponding rule to the one about an hour lost at a bottleneck. You remember that? An hour lost at a bottleneck is an hour lost for the entire system."
"Yeah, I remember," Bob says.
I say, "The rule he gave me last night is that an hour saved at a non-bottleneck is a mirage."
"A mirage!" he says. "What do you mean, an hour saved at a non-bottleneck is a mirage? An hour saved is an hour saved!"
"No, it isn't," I tell him. "Since we began withholding materi- als from the floor until the bottlenecks are ready for them, the non-bottlenecks now have idle time. It's perfectly okay to have more setups on non-bottlenecks, because all we're doing is cut- ting into time the machines would spend being idle. Saving set- ups at a non-bottleneck doesn't make the system one bit more productive. The time and money saved is an illusion. Even if we double the number of setups, it won't consume all the idle time."
"Okay, okay," says Bob. "I guess I can see what you mean."
"Now Jonah said, first of all, to cut the batch sizes in half. Then he suggested I go immediately to marketing and convince them to conduct a new campaign which will promise customers earlier deliveries."
"Can we do it?" asks Lou.
I tell them, "Already, our lead times have condensed consid- erably over what they were before thanks to the priority system and making the bottlenecks more productive. We have reduced lead time of about three to four months down to two months or even less. If we cut our batch sizes in half, how fast do you think we can respond?"
There is an eternity of hemming and hawing while this is debated.
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Finally, Bob admits, "Okay, if we cut batch sizes in half, then that means it ought to take half the time it does now. So instead of six to eight weeks, it should take about four weeks... maybe even three weeks in a lot of cases."
"Suppose I go to marketing and tell them to promise cus- tomers deliveries in three weeks?" I say.
"Whoa! Hold on!" says Bob.
"Yeah, give us a break!" says Stacey.
"All right, four weeks then," I say. "That's reasonable, isn't it?"
"Sounds reasonable to me," says Ralph.
"Well... okay," says Stacey.
"I think we should risk it," says Lou.
"So are you willing to commit to this with us?" I ask Bob.
Bob sits back and says, "Well... I'm all for bigger bonuses. What the hell. Let's try it."
Friday morning finds the Mazda and me again hustling up the Interstate toward headquarters. I hit town just as the sun hits the glass of the UniCo building and reflects a blinding glare. Kind of pretty actually. For a moment, it takes my mind off my nerves. I've got a meeting scheduled with Johnny Jons in his office. When I called, he was quite willing to see me, but sounded less than enthusiastic about what I said I'd like to talk about. I feel there's a lot riding on my ability to convince him to go along with what we want to do. So I've found myself biting a fingernail or two during the trip.
Jons doesn't really have a desk in his office. He has a sheet of glass on chrome legs. I guess that's so that everyone can get a good look at his Gucci loafers and silk socks-which he exposes as he leans back in this chair, interweaves his fingers and puts them behind his head.
He says, "So... how is everything going?"
"Everything is going very well right now," I say. "In fact, that's why I wanted to talk to you."
Jons immediately dons an impassive face.
"All right, listen," I tell him, "I'm going to lay my cards out for you. I'm not exaggerating when I say everything is going well. It is. We've worked off our backlog of overdue orders, as you know. At the beginning of last week, the plant began producing strictly to meet projected due dates."
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Jons nods and says, "Yes, I've noticed my phone hasn't been ringing lately with complaints from customers missing their or- ders."
"My point," I tell him, "is that we've really turned the plant around. Here, look at this."
From my breifcase, I take the latest list of customer orders. Among other things, it shows the due dates promised, along with the dates when Ralph expected shipment, and the dates the prod- ucts were actually shipped.
"You see," I tell Jons as he studies the list on the glass top of his table, "we can predict to within twenty-four hours one way or the other when an order will leave the plant."
"Yes, I've seen something like this floating around," says Jons. "These are the dates?"
"Of course."
"This is impressive," says Jons.
"As you can see by comparing a few recently shipped orders with ones of a month or so before, our production lead times have condensed dramatically. Four months' lead time is no longer a holy number with us. From the day you sign the contract with the customer to the day we ship, the current average is about two months. Now, tell me, do you think that could help us in the marketplace?"
"Sure it could," says Jons.
"Then how about four weeks'?"
"What? Al, don't be ridiculous," says Jons. "Four weeks!"
"We can do it."
"Come on!" he says. "Last winter, when demand for every damn thing we make was way down, we were promising delivery in four months, and it was taking six! Now you're telling me you can go from contract to finished product in four weeks?"
"I wouldn't be here talking to you if we couldn't," I tell him, hoping desperately that we're right.
Jons snorts, unconvinced.
"Johnny, the truth is I need more business," I tell him. "With our overdues gone, and our current backlog declining, I've got to get more work into my plant. Now we both know the business is out there; it's just that the competition is getting more of it than we are."
Jons looks at me through narrowed eyes. "You can really
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turn around an order of 200 Model 12's or 300 DBD-50's in four weeks?"
"Try me," I tell him. "Get me five orders-hell, get me ten orders-and I'll prove it to you."
"And what happens to our credibility if you can't come through?" he asks.
Flustered, I look down through the glass table.
"Johnny," I say, "I'll make a bet with you. If I don't deliver in four weeks, I'll buy you a brand new pair of Guccis."
He laughs, shakes his head and finally says, "Okay, you're on. I'll pass the word to the salespeople that on all your products, we're offering terms of factory shipment in six weeks."
I start to protest. Jons holds up a hand.
"I know you're confident," he says. "And if you ship any new orders in less than five weeks, I'll buy y o u a new pair of shoes."
A full moon is shining through the bedroom window and into my eyes. The night is still. I look at the clock beside me, which says it's 4:20 A.M. Next to me in bed, Julie is sleeping.
Resting on my elbow, I look down at Julie. With her dark hair spilled out on the white pillow, she looks nice sleeping in the moonlight. I watch her for a while. I wonder what her dreams are like.
When I woke up, I was having a nightmare. It was about the plant. I was running up and down the aisles and Bill Peach was chasing me in his crimson Mercedes. Every time he was about to run me over, I'd duck between a couple of machines or hop on a passing forklift. He was yelling at me from the window about my bottom line not being good enough. Finally he trapped me in the shipping department. I had my back against stacks of cardboard cartons, and the Mercedes was racing toward me at a hundred miles an hour. I tried to shield my eyes from the blinding head- lights. Just as Peach was about to get me, I woke up and discov- ered that the headlights were moonbeams on my face.