around fighting fires that we don’t have time to stop, take a breath, and consider whether we have a mole arsonist on our hands.”
“So now the damn moles are lighting fires?” Stu sighed.
Mark shrugged. “You know what I mean. It’s a common problem — going hard and not taking a moment to stop and think.”
“I’ve got a story about that,” said Luigi. “A guy is driving his car down a country road, and he passes a kid who is running as fast as he can, pushing a bicycle. The guy slows the car down, rolls down his window, and shouts to the kid, ‘Hey, kid, what’s the matter? What’s the hurry?’ Kid pants out, ‘Late for school!’ The man says, ‘What’s the matter with the bike? Got a flat?’ The kid gasps back between breaths, ‘Nope, bike’s fine,’ and keeps on running hard, pushing his bike. So the driver continues coasting alongside the kid and says, ‘You don’t know how to ride it?’ Kid shakes his head. ‘I can ride.’ The driver frowns. ‘So why are you pushing it?’ Kid pants back, ‘Told you, late for school. No time to stop and get on the bike. Gotta keep running to get to class!’ ” Luigi laughed long and hard. The best he got from the others in the room was a groan. “What, you don’t get it?”
“Yeah, we get it,” Leslie said impatiently. “The kid is so obsessed about making time that he doesn’t realize if he slows down and loses a few moments to get on the bike, he’ll get there faster. It’s just that it’s not remotely funny. And as parables go, I would rate it as weak.”
Luigi shrugged. “Whatever. I can’t help your poor taste in parables. But I think it shows what we’re doing — running around solving little problems without taking the time out from firefighting to figure out the source of our mole arsonist bicycle problem.”
“I think you can leave the bike out of that,” said Amanda. “It’s confusing enough as it is.”
I decided to jump in. “That’s exactly it. Unless we stop running around like chickens with our heads cut off and stop letting the moles start fires, we’re never going to figure out . . . uh, if we have moles . . . or should I say, what the nature of our mole infestation really is.”
Mark made me give serious consideration to whether he might be a mole himself by saying, “Why are we bringing chickens into this?”
I waved away his comment. “So, let’s stop whacking moles for a minute. Let’s stop even thinking about whacking moles, and let’s answer the question: what is our mole infestation here at Hyler?”
“It’s the union,” said Luigi without hesitation. “And I can say that because I used to be a union member. They don’t appreciate how bad things are. They just keep asking for more and more, and they’re driving us into the ground.”
“No,” disagreed Amanda. “The union reacts to what we do to them. Our mole is corporate headquarters and all the crap they push down on us. Look at our so-called performance management system. It’s totally dysfunctional and creates a totally dysfunctional workplace, including our crummy relationship with the union.”
“Uh-uh,” said Alice. “It’s our sales team. Will, you’re the one who pointed out they’re discounting us out of business.”
“Figures the accountant would say that,” shot back Leslie. “My sales team does exactly what they’re told to do. It’s the accounting department that doesn’t know what our costs are. How are we supposed to price things properly if you can’t tell us that?”
Things were getting a little heated. Stu interjected in an attempt to be a calming influence. “Guys, it’s all of those things together — it’s us. The people in this room. We’re the problem. And you know why? We’re not on the same page.”
Stu the calming influence didn’t provide much calm. Everyone turned to stare at him. Amanda was the first to speak. “How can you possibly say that, Stu? I’ve been killing myself for the last four years trying to make this place work. And I’d say the same thing for every person in this room. You think any of us want Hyler to go under or offshore? You don’t think we agree on that?”
Stu shook his head. “Having the same goal and acting like we do can be two different things. We all know our relationship with the union sucks, and we know we have to fix it, but what are we doing to make that happen? We just keep grinding on them, trying to make them give us more and more concessions.”
“And all they do is push back on us,” interrupted Luigi. “They just want to take. They won’t work with us.”
Stu cocked an eyebrow. “Are you saying that the union wants to close the plant? That they want the company to move all those jobs offshore?”
Luigi hesitated. “Well, no, I suppose not.”
Alice jumped in. “The union doesn’t understand how bad things are. They don’t believe it when we tell them. They think we’re bluffing.”
Stu snorted. “Going from three shifts a day to two? Laying off half the workforce in the last few years? Seeing our production fall? Do you really believe they think we’re just kidding?”
A light was starting to go on for me, though admittedly it was a bit dim. “Stu, you’re saying that we and the union both want the same thing, or at least we want to avoid the same thing, but people aren’t acting that way?”
Stu shrugged. “I’m not saying I can explain it, but think about it. We seem to be trapped in a pattern that’s taking us down the wrong road, even though no one wants to go there. And I don’t mean just with the union. I mean with everything from our sales program to our management systems to how we deal with safety. We run around whacking moles, not seeing that we’re actually whacking each other in the process.”
“That reminds me of a story,” said Luigi.
Everyone groaned. “Please tell me there are no moles or bicycles involved,” begged Alice.
Luigi smiled. “No, but there are more animals. I’m serious, this is a good one.” Luigi clapped his hands together and rubbed them, like he was warming up to perform a delicate operation or defuse a bomb. Or perhaps just to bomb. “There’s this little frog: he’s sitting by the side of a river, minding his own business. Suddenly a scorpion appears on the riverbank and comes crawling down toward the frog. The frog isn’t worried, because scorpions don’t eat frogs, but he’s a little cautious. He knows the scorpion has a deadly stinger on its tail. So Froggy does a little hop right to the edge of the river and gets ready to go for a swim in case the scorpion starts to get crazy.
“But the scorpion calls out, ‘Hey, Frog, wait! I’m not looking to sting you. I need a favor.’ The frog is puzzled. ‘Whaddaya mean?’ he asks. ‘What kind of favor?’ The scorpion scuttles closer. ‘A ride,’ says the scorpion. ‘My mother’s sick, and she lives across the river. I can’t swim. I need you to give me a ride on your back over to the other side.’ ”
“Wait a minute,” said Alice. “If the scorpion can’t swim, how could he end up on the opposite side of the river from his mother?” I was surprised it had taken this long for someone from the team to interrupt Luigi.
Alice continued to impress with her insights. “Maybe the story takes place in springtime, and the river is flooding. The scorpion moved out the previous summer, when the riverbed was dry.” I started to wonder whether my team was the real problem.
Luigi
