Payback in Kind: Returning the Love Your People Are Killing Themselves With – By Letting Them Stop
Our best people have in common a value-added. They’re our go-tos. If we’re lucky, we’re blessed with more of them than not. If they’re lucky, we’re paying attention.
A current retail client has a full staff of such people. They’re a small team, so there’s not a lot of efficiency that we can let get caught up in individual job descriptions – everything revolves around maximizing cross-training of tasks, and in turn fine-tuning the tasks themselves.
Recently, we were peeling back the steps involved in stocking the shelves. We discussed minimum stocking levels by item, and as we walked the route, the question was asked as to whether they recorded a count of the product to be broken out of inventory.
“No,” was the reply. “We take an approximate number, allowing for extra, in case someone purchases any while we’re restocking.”
“What is done with the extra?”
“We return it to the warehouse.”
As it stands, product as organized on the retail floor is in no way reflected in where overstock is kept in the warehouse (something we’re working on), so a single restocking run on its own is already headed to four or five separate aisles – a return run is doubly lethal. At the same time, how can you possibly come down on that? The concern is valid, the cause isn’t theirs, but operational. All it’s lacking is a little back-handed perspective.
“How often do you restock?”
“Every day, usually.”
Having just gone through the minimum level discussion, the next Q & A was easy.
“If someone does buy product while you’re restocking, will there still be product on the shelf tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if it’s me, I would consider not taking the extra, or just taking enough that would just fit if no one had bought any while I was gone. That way you can save half the time a second trip takes; and you can use the time saved to start consolidating the warehouse so that next time you’re only having to go to three aisles; then two, then eventually one.”
I wish I could say there was a blinding light of revelation at this. There was, instead, discomfort. A little defensiveness, maybe, some awkwardness at feeling a little stupid, at being chastised for doing the right thing – though care was taken to craft this engagement in tone and substance to acknowledge the hard-work and the intent.
More than that, however, was simply a need for a little time to understand that they had the blessing to not beat themselves up over a perfect detail, while running themselves ragged trying to keep up in the bigger picture; and never quite catching up.
Good staff worry about failing us, because ultimately they’re failing themselves. And, ironically, it can be our own processes, their blind chasing of them, and our lack of observance that is setting them up to fail. So long as that is the case, eventually we’re going to lose them; and in the meantime, our efficiencies are going to continue to suffer.
From the Outbox, April 2018