8:00 A.M. In one hour, the meeting with the supervisors will start. Thierry Ambi is probably on the way. It’s a little surprising he isn’t already here. She remembers how punctual he had been for the few meetings they had after her father’s death. She had met with him three times. The meetings were all brief, as if he were in a hurry. Apparently, he was very keen to implement the processes for the information system, such as backing up company data, before transferring responsibility to Georgette, the head of accounting.
He explained to Héloïse, “Anyone who is the only one to know how to do something in a company is dangerous. So dangerous,” he added enigmatically, “the company should get rid of him or her as quickly as possible.”2
Thierry Ambi also wanted to complete the physical inventory he had started, in order to analyze the discrepancies between the actual on-hand inventory and the inventory recorded in the computer system. That was especially important now that he had put a process in place that allowed the storeroom supervisor to input data in real time. He was hoping to find the causes for the recurring problems that were causing such discrepancies and solve them so the adjustments would decrease.
“This is very important for an accurate netting process,” he said.
“An accurate what?” she asked.
He thought for a moment before he responded, “Before you bake a chocolate cake, you need to verify that you have all the ingredients: eggs, chocolate, sugar ...”
Héloïse perked up. She did like chocolate cake.
“Suppose you need five eggs for the cake, but you only have two. How many should you buy?”
“Three,” said Héloïse hesitating, “... or more, probably a standard carton of a half-dozen because the eggs will be cheaper and easier to carry. Assuming, of course, I’d be able to use the rest of them soon.”
Thierry explained that subtracting the inventory of two eggs from the gross requirement of five eggs to get the net requirement of three eggs, was actually the netting process. And deciding whether to buy only three eggs, the half-dozen, or to always keep a certain number of eggs on hand, based on typical usage, was the essence of his day-to-day work in managing the supply chain. As well as selecting the right supplier in order to minimize the risk of receiving broken eggs, he had to ensure delivery of the cake to the customer before the expiration date.
Seeing the interest in Héloïse’s eyes, he pulled out a paper from a folder and showed her a drawing of a boat trying to navigate a sea with big waves coming from all sides and rocks right under the surface.
“My job as supply chain manager is to focus on flow. When we lower the water level, symbolizing the inventory, and reduce the size of the rocks, representing various types of waste, the ship, representing the company, can sail safely faster even in a surprise storm.”
Héloïse did not know what a supply chain manager was, but the thought of the inventory being like water intrigued her.
“Lowering the water level—that’s to say, the inventory—” he went on, “has two major advantages. First, it lowers the working capital associated with inventory, which comes out as cash. Second, it offers endless opportunities for continuous improvement for all departments in the company working together to reduce those rocks.” Thierry paused. “But of course not all inventory is a waste. For a ship that has to endure rough seas, inventory can be used like ... like a break wall to smooth the waves ...” Thierry’s voice faded, as if he now spoke only to himself.
Héloïse didn’t dare interrupt, but he had lost her.
“I hear with my left ear that the inventory is like water and with my right ear that it should be a break wall?” she wondered. “That doesn’t make sense. Low water is dangerous for a ship. And in the other example, what are the waves?”
Finally, Thierry reassured Héloïse that the work of defining the management process for each item sold, manufactured, or purchased by the company was well under way. He had taken a course recently to learn how to manage inventories in order to better protect the flow. He was in the process of analyzing all bills of materials to decide which components should be stocked, how, and in what quantities. Before the summer break at the end of July, it would simply be a matter of clarifying with his team the parameters for managing inventory by category. Then he would coach them so that they can take ownership of an easy visual way he discovered to sort out priorities.
“Scheduling in a company that tolerates ‘firefighting’ is probably one of the most difficult and stressful jobs on earth,” he said. “It is management’s responsibility to provide safe working conditions, for the body and the mind of each employee—including those who plan the flow of products. After all,”—he threw up his hands—“their performance directly affects the return on the capital invested in the company.”
Héloïse had noticed his attention to the employees. He always took time to make the rounds of the shop floor and personally greet the workers, which she herself had never done. She could see there were decidedly nice sides to Thierry Ambi, even though he always seemed stressed.
In particular, she remembered their last meeting when she told him of the decision of the shareholders—that is, her grandmother and her mother who inherited the shares of her late husband—to offer him the position of CEO for at least as long as it would take to settle the company’s future. Throughout the meeting, she had felt decidedly ill at ease. Was it because she had never before found herself in a position of authority and resented feeling like a fraud? Was it because she so clearly needed him more than he needed her? Or was it because Thierry Ambi himself had seemed ill at ease, in view of the tragic circumstances, to be seizing such an attractive opportunity? Maybe it was simply because he was one of those men who felt uncomfortable working with women.
Héloïse had made a mental check of her physical appearance. She knew both how to captivate a music audience and how to appear neutral when she needed to. She had been wearing a pantsuit with a classic blouse and had not worn any makeup. But Thierry Ambi had barely looked at her and hadn’t asked any questions, even though she had deliberately made no mention of any financial compensation that might accompany this sudden increase in responsibilities.
The day before, she had asked her partner, Thomas, for advice. He had answered intuitively, “Compensation should be as it is with musicians: in proportion to the artist’s talent.”
This was of little help to Héloïse, who was sure that in industry the rules governing salaries were more complex than that. She had put the matter off, but it was now time to approach the subject frankly. She had taken the time to discuss it with her mother, and was now ready to make Thierry Ambi an offer that she felt was fair: his increase in salary would be proportionate to the profits of the company. Put another way, Thierry Ambi would be “profit sharing.” Her mother, who in the past had suggested a bonus scheme for all employees, immediately approved this idea.
It’s twenty to nine, and Thierry Ambi has not yet arrived. Héloïse does not want to broach this subject if they don’t have enough time to discuss it. She begins to grow impatient and, at the sound of footsteps in the corridor, leaves her office to have a look. But it is not Thierry Ambi; it is Hubert Lancien, arriving early for the meeting.
Hubert, nearing sixty, is still a good-looking man. Certainly his job at H. Rami as a salesman for luxury technical
