“The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.”
—Wallace Stevens
After getting laid off from the theme park company where I managed that robotic animals project in China, I was hired as a project manager for Showscan Entertainment, an L.A.-based company that produced motion simulator films and rides for theme parks around the world. My new job was to oversee the construction and launch of the CineMania motion simulation theater at Universal CityWalk, and it ended up being both a challenging and amazing career experience.
After that project ended, I was made the manager of Customer Support Services for all of the company’s motion simulator theaters around the world. Showscan manufactured and sold state-of-the-art, super-high-definition projection systems to themed entertainment venues around the world, and then licensed our three-to-five-minute simulator ride films—for example, space adventures and roller coasters—to these venues. These shorts were fun, exciting, beautifully produced, and comparable in film quality to IMAX.
Unfortunately, my new Customer Support role was not nearly as glamorous or thrilling as these motion simulator rides were. This job was pretty much all about fielding complaints and fulfilling spare parts orders for our customers’ theaters around the world. Although the projectors and the motion seats are incredible pieces of technology, the popularity of these attractions meant that all of this equipment was constantly breaking down. And that meant a constant need to identify, source, inventory, and ship these various spare parts to our clients’ theaters in twenty countries around the globe.
This job was so frustrating, mundane, and unfulfilling that I am boring myself just thinking and writing about it. But hang in there with me for a minute, as there is a point! And it involves ice cream. Huge quantities of ice cream. I promise.
My biggest frustration in trying to do this job was the inefficiency and ineffectiveness of our warehousing operation, which was responsible for ordering and stocking all these spare parts and then shipping them out as quickly as possible to our customers. Because the warehousing system was such a mess, and because there wasn’t a formal process in place, things took ten times longer than they should have, which often prevented us from getting the spare parts out to our customers in a timely fashion. And without these parts, neither the projectors nor the motion seats could operate. And nonfunctioning equipment meant no rides, and no rides meant no ticket sales. Which was a huge deal—and a huge problem—both for our clients’ businesses and for the reputation and revenues of our company.
So, what was I to do? Caught in the middle between our upset and angry clients and our frustrated, overworked, and underappreciated warehouse people, all I could do was to keep walking into my company’s senior management to complain about those nameless, faceless “people down in the warehouse who were not doing their jobs.”
Well, guess what happened.
The CFO, whom I reported to, came to me one day and said, “You’re the one who has the problem and is always complaining about it; so, fix it.”
With that, I got both a promotion and a demotion at the same time: My title was expanded from “Manager of Customer Support Services” to “Manager of Customer Support Services, Warehousing, Inventory, and Shipping Operations.”
Wow…thanks a lot.
And, along with that, with neither pomp nor ceremony, I was physically moved (basically, kicking and screaming), from my cushy, carpeted “Upstairs” office on the management floor, to a tiny broom-closet-sized office all the way “Downstairs” in the cold, dingy, dusty, warehouse. And did I mention that my tiny new office had a support beam—a pole, actually—right in the middle of it, wedging me between my desk and the wall? Well, it did. Needless to say, I was not at all happy. And I was now, officially, “one of those people down in the warehouse” that all the people “upstairs” barely knew but were always complaining about.
Long story short…fast-forward to four weeks later: Working with the warehouse foreman, we completely revamped the entire operation, creating an inventory system, automating certain processes, and getting the place organized. While things quickly started to visibly improve, we were still failing in one key area, the most important task: getting the parts shipped out the door to our customers by the Friday 4 p.m. deadline. Missing that FedEx and UPS pick-up time meant that our customers would not get their parts by the next morning, in time for them to get up and running for the weekend—their key revenue-generating days. And, not only that, but missing that shipping deadline meant that the company was paying a fortune—literally, thousands of dollars a year extra—in overtime pay and in rush shipping costs. If I could just figure out a way to have all our work completed by 4 p.m. Friday it would save the day…and I would be a hero. But how?
Well, after giving it much thought, I came up with a possible solution that could best be summed up in two words. My favorite pair of words in the English language: ice cream.
I announced to the warehouse staff that if we could find a way to speed things up and have all spare parts packages ready to ship by 4 p.m., I would bring in ice cream to celebrate, and I would authorize everyone to head home at 4:30 p.m., while being paid for the full day ’til 5 p.m., enabling them to hit the road and start their weekend. And if you know anything about fighting L.A. traffic during rush hour on a Friday night, getting to leave early is worth its weight in gold!
Well, that first Friday, we came close, missing the pick-up deadline by a half hour. But we were making huge progress. So, as a show of appreciation for the team’s effort, I ran out and brought back fifty dollars’ worth of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry ice cream. Though we ended up working late and missed our goal, that symbolic gesture of recognition was appreciated.
The next week, however, we actually did it! All the spare parts shipments were packed and ready for pick-up, we had our ice cream celebration—along with a huge feeling of camaraderie and accomplishment—and everyone was out the door and on the road by 4:30 p.m. It worked!
After the weekend, first thing that Monday morning, I went upstairs to the executive offices to see my boss, the CFO, so excited to tell him the full story: How, in less than a month since I was sent “Downstairs,” we not only streamlined the entire operation, but we also made our Friday evening shipping deadline for the first time ever, thereby saving the company hundreds of dollars in rush shipping costs and employee overtime. I also brought with me an expense reimbursement form for him to sign to cover the $100 in cash I had laid out from my own pocket for the two Fridays’ worth of ice cream.
But, was I in for a big surprise: I wasn’t expecting a gold medal and a ticker tape parade, but not only did he not congratulate me, he berated me for letting the warehouse people leave early on Friday when they were still “on the clock.” And he took my $100 ice cream reimbursement form, ceremoniously crumbled it up into a ball, and slam-dunked it into his trash can, saying, “This whole ice cream idea is ridiculous—these are grown men being paid to do their jobs! It’s a warehouse…not a little kid’s birthday party!”
I was so demoralized. But I would not be defeated. I made a promise, and my plan was working. This was no time to backslide. So, that Friday, not only did I bring in ice cream, but (partially to spite my CFO) cones and sprinkles as well! And, for the second week in a row, with the help of our new system—and increased morale—we once again met our Friday deadline…as we did the week after, and the week after that.
As a junior-level manager who was not really making a ton of money, picking up the tab for all this ice cream every single Friday was starting to add up. On the one hand, I couldn’t really afford to do it anymore, and yet, on the other hand, I had made this commitment to my team. We were starting to function as a well-oiled machine, and I didn’t want to do anything to rock the boat. But I seriously didn’t know how long I was going to be able to afford to keep doing this.
And then, about two months in, something happened that changed everything:
That particular Friday, one of the “Upstairs” people came downstairs to the warehouse to get some kind of paperwork signed around 4 p.m., just as I was setting up the ice cream bar. Even though he was “one of them” (that is, one of the “Upstairs” people), I invited him to make himself an ice cream cone.
The next thing I knew, he was yelling to everyone upstairs, “Hey! There’s free ice cream down in the warehouse!!!”
Yeah…free.
Anyway, about ten people came down to grab some ice cream. And the following Friday, twenty more. Knowing that we were having “guests” from upstairs coming down to visit the warehouse motivated everyone to pitch in to make things as presentable and pleasing as possible. Before we knew it, “Fridays at Four” became the hottest party in town! OK, not really. But what it did do was give the warehouse people a feeling of pride and a sense of recognition that they never had before, as having the office people from upstairs coming down to visit leveled the playing field and created a common ground. People suddenly got to know one another for the first time.
And, if all that wasn’t enough, how’s this for an extra-happy ending to this story: A couple of weeks later, guess who came down from his ivory tower and stopped by the warehouse for an ice cream cone? Yup…the CFO—my boss who had originally slammed me for this “ridiculous” idea. And here’s what he said:
“So this is where all the action is that I’ve been hearing about! I know when you came to me a couple of months ago I told you this was a dumb idea. But, apparently, it wasn’t. Good job. Whatever you’ve laid out for all the ice cream, just put in a reimbursement form along with all the receipts and I’ll sign it.”
“You promise you won’t crumple it up again?” I asked.
To which he just smiled, licked his ice cream cone, and headed back upstairs.
In Review
The Big Lesson: There are so many things I learned from this early-career episode! I had previously managed projects, and I had an assistant who I supervised, but this was my very first position in which I had a team of people directly reporting to me. And—with no prior management training of any kind—I had no other option but to figure things out as I went along.
It was not until years later that I learned Peter Drucker’s famous quote, “Management is about doing things right; leadership is about doing the right thing.” In this situation, I tried to do both by “managing the process” and “leading the people” in the only way I knew how.
And, the biggest lesson of all: Never underestimate the power of ice cream.
The Big Question: What would you have done in my situation? Have you ever been in a similar position? What lessons do you take from this story? And what did you learn that you might be able to apply in the future?
Your Insight:
Your Action: