Steel Toes and Stilettos

A True Story of Women Manufacturing Leaders and Lean Transformation Success

Shannon Karels, Kathy Miller

• Publisher: Productivity Press
• Year: 2021
• Print ISBN: 9781032053110
• eBook ISBN: 9781000517316
• Topic: Business
• Subtopic: Decision Making
• Index: Business

The authors joined forces professionally when Kathy hired Shannon to be a member of her leadership team. This book describes the transformation they led to convert operations from traditional manufacturing to a lean enterprise.

Kathy (executive leader responsible for profitability) and Shannon (transformation leader) share the finer points of a comprehensive change process, the challenges and triumphs, and the real emotion involved during their quest for success. Each describes the professional journey from their unique perspective and the highlights of an endearing friendship that was formed along the way.

This story will inspire female leaders in any organization, showcasing an example of high-performing women thriving in an intense and fast-paced world. Kathy and Shannon are role models for those juggling intense, fulfilling careers, alongside life's complexities such as dual-career marriages and raising children.

Their story provides a powerful case study of women supporting each other in the workplace to drive positive culture and significantly improved business results by leading with authenticity and inclusivity.

1 Baby Shoes – How It All Started

DOI: 10.4324/9781003196976-1

We all know that babies crawl before they walk and then walk before they run, so we begin our story with the image of baby shoes, as the lean journey we will lead you through was truly in its infancy. We will draw upon shoes to capture the stages of this business transformation, not only because they make for a great analogy but also because we love shoes. We adore not only the fabulous high-heeled ones that make a statement when you enter the room but also the gritty, grimy industrial safety shoes designed to protect you from all kinds of danger lurking inside factory walls. These safety shoes exclaim, “I am here, factory friends, and I belong here!”

Lean manufacturing has been around for decades and started in the automotive industry. It is a methodology for creating value for the customer, providing what they want when they want it. Lean methods focus on eliminating waste and creating an inclusive environment where all employees contribute to solving problems. It is process-oriented and aimed at creating the flow of information, people, and material. The concepts are used in all types of businesses, although the tools were developed for manufacturing first and then adapted.

Our story takes place primarily in manufacturing plants and the surrounding functions: finance, marketing, human resources, and so on. The business we were responsible for consisted of four plants in two different countries. This story describes our two U.S. plants’ transformations with a brief view of our Mexico plant’s efforts. We eventually transformed the fourth plant as well, but we will save that story for the sequel. So, strap on your boots, or cuddle up in some comfy slippers, and come along with us.

Kathy

My love affair with car plants started when I was a ripe age of 17 years old. It was not love at first sight. I had been accepted at a small private engineering college, one that required half of my college years working in a company gaining real-life experience and half of the time in traditional classroom education. The company that sponsored most of the students at this institution of higher learning had a vehicle assembly plant 15 miles from where I lived. Since I had barely obtained my driver’s license when I was called to interview for one of the few coveted co-op positions, my dad drove me to the plant. After my four hours of interviews, which took place in the front offices, I was asked if I would like to take a tour of the plant and if the man in the lobby who had been waiting all day would like to join us. I politely accepted for myself and invited my dad.
As we stepped through a sizeable beige door, a “people door,” a term I learned later, we entered a whole new world – the world of the vehicle assembly line. It was loud. The floors were black and made of woodblocks. People worked in pits in some areas, appearing as though they had been truncated at the waist. Train tracks were running through, as in, not beside, the building. I had never seen anything like it. I saw very few women in the plant. I assume I was somewhat of a novel sight in my navy blue interview suit and matching heels. I was accompanied by Human Resources and a man whose arm in which I was overtly intertwined. This evoked all sorts of commotion, consisting of whistling, whooping, and hollering. As I came to understand later, this was a tour for beginners. My father and I were guided through main aisles, away from the inner sanctum of the areas where the calendars of naked women and unsavory graffiti decorated toolboxes, columns, and walls.
As my dad was the most protective of fathers when it came to his daughter, I concluded the tour confident that he would not ever want me to go back there. We didn’t chat very much on the way home; we just shared some peanut M&M’s he kept in his glove box for good measure. The next day, Human Resources called and offered me a job at the plant in Industrial Engineering. I asked them to please hold the phone while I consulted with my dad, who did not even hesitate for one second before answering, “just accept it.” “What about how rough the place was, Daddy, with the catcalls and whistling … and that was when you were by my side???” “Oh,” he said, brushing off the concern, “that was harmless; you’ll be fine.” And so, it began.
After five years of alternating between school and work, a rigorous engineering curriculum, and stints in nearly every plant department, I grew up quickly. I learned about Thermodynamics and Operations Research and how not to wear my heart on my shirtsleeve and do time studies without carrying a stopwatch. The year I graduated, the plant closed after 50 years in operation, and I, along with the rest of the plant personnel, followed the last car down the line. It was an extremely sad experience that taught me that nothing in business is a sure thing. I would need to continue to develop my skills and knowledge so I would have options in the future.
I transferred to another location within the same company, two states away, went back into Engineering, and started my MBA classes at night. In those Engineering and Marketing years, I did not have to pack both office and plant shoes, as my duties confined me to the world of cubicles. I did, however, still have a big decision to make regarding my footwear. It is a decision that every female professional faces eventually. It is a significant choice, one that will contribute to your personal brand – one that you will be judged by, either consciously or subconsciously. And so, this is how I made mine.
I stood in my closet, which was in a state of transition from stirrup pants and shoulder-padded, knee-length sweaters to the world of a professional wardrobe which called for structured trousers, matching blazers, and blouses that required ironing. I took it all in. There were fat pants, skinny pants, pants hemmed appropriately for high heels, and another set, same category, same colors, just hemmed to a different length for flat shoes. There were just too many combinations. Simplifying was not an option; it was a necessity. As a serial crash dieter, I knew the charts all too well, how tall I should be for my given weight. And, so, I took a deep breath and made the decision. I would no longer alternate between flats and heels. I was going to be a high-heel girl. I would eventually weed out pants hemmed for short heels. I needed the height. I would be that professional who carried herself with three extra inches, in pants or skirts, no matter where my job would take me.
My early professional career alternated between Engineering and Marketing for different automotive electronic product lines. In those years, I continued to progress upward through the organization, acquiring more responsibility. I got married and gave birth to two baby girls, 4.5 years apart. After my second daughter was born, I found that I missed plant life and returned to manufacturing, progressing through a Superintendent position and into a Plant Operations Manager position, which had long been my ambition. During a stint between those two positions, I joined a team to deploy lean manufacturing throughout our company’s operations. I learned about this manufacturing system from many of the people who wrote the early lean operations books.
Shortly after my automotive electronics plant won the Shingo Prize for its lean transformation and business results, I left automotive. I joined a diversified industrial company as the Lean Manager, of an organization about $2B in size. Having done lean while running thousands of car parts a day gave me instant credibility with my peers, leaders responsible for the various divisions’ profitability. I traveled around to each location, getting to know their teams and their business challenges. I set up workshops, facilitated improvement sessions, and coached their internal lean and manufacturing people. I understood that not all the challenges could be answered directly by what the books defined. Thinking was indeed required, and unfortunately, the pressures of day-to-day delivery would ALWAYS take precedence over whatever improvement event had been scheduled. I could work with that. I loved being a business partner with those General Managers. We developed great relationships – some more challenging than others, but if they shot straight with me, we were okay. We worked on the business together, enabling them to work in the business with better results.
This early success led to me being promoted to the Vice President (VP) of Lean Enterprise and Quality for the entire corporation within six months of joining the company. It would have happened a month or two sooner, but they wanted me to move to the Corporate Headquarters, 315 miles away. That wasn’t possible. The other pair of shoes that I wore in those days were those of a divorced mom with joint custody of my two daughters. I had promised my girls that I would always have a home within 10 miles of where their dad lived so we could raise them together, even though we lived in separate houses. I would not go back on my promise to those little girls for any promotion. So, after the third ask for me to relocate, and my third time turning down the position, it was decided I could stay where I was and do the job if I were willing to travel. My ex-husband and I worked very well together to make sure we both had our quality time with the girls. With the flexibility that afforded me, I was able to accept the promotion.
My responsibilities increased from $2 billion in revenue to $12 billion. I inherited a lean system with well-defined visual management tools and a team of lean professionals that worked by my side, creating the balance of the operating system. We taught it throughout the company worldwide, from the CEO through the shop floor team members. It was rigorous and fulfilling work.
I worked in that role for five years, personally visiting over 200 plants in more than 20 countries. I was very proud of the work accomplished in this role. We had developed the operating system for both manufacturing and non-manufacturing processes, taught it worldwide, and helped implement it in over 120 divisions and more than 300 plants around the globe. We created and launched a quality strategy, eliminated fork trucks everywhere except in the warehouses, improved company productivity by 30%, and reduced inventory by 15%, among other achievements.
These industrial plants were a bit more rigorous than the automotive electronics plants, so I finally had to adopt safety shoes as a main staple in my wardrobe. I added them to my packing checklist and made room for them in my suitcases. Except, sometimes, I forgot, or there really wasn’t enough space in my bag, and so it was, this is how I first met Shannon.
I was doing an audit at a plant in Illinois, and I showed up without my safety shoes. As I came to appreciate my role in setting the example for safety, I never tried to get into the plants without them anymore. This predicament became my first encounter with her. After the introductory presentation had concluded, I let the Plant Manager know that I needed to borrow a pair. After examining the assortment of men’s shoes kept for visitors, Shannon came forward and offered me hers. How fortunate (or maybe even fortuitous) that we wear the same size! So, I donned her shoes, which resembled brown laced-up hiking boots, and went on the tour. Who’d have known that first meeting would mark the beginning of a journey, a journey of professional accomplishments, a journey of sisterhood, just without the shared DNA.
A couple of years after I visited that plant in Illinois, it was time for me to get off the road, so I took a job as the General Manager of one of the company’s divisions. I had been to this division a few times in my previous role, so I knew a bit of what to expect. My first day there was planned by my boss, a day of team presentations and a plant tour. I remember it well – most of it spent in a conference room, the walls sporting c. 1970s’ wood paneling. This paneling was not the solid, stately boardroom kind that encompasses you with a feeling that you are in the presence of greatness. It was the flat simulated wood type that is hung in sheets, making it a widely available material to even the most novice of hammer-wielding carpenters, mostly called “Dad.”
The plant tour of this first day felt a little different from my new vantage point as the new leader. Maybe it was because I was more observant about every single thing my path crossed, not just the level of lean maturity I had previously evaluated. The vintage equipment was large and industrial, and it was much darker and dirtier than I had recalled. Stalactites of soot hung from the ceiling. I remembered the jokes about the casket gaskets produced there (never got any customer complaints) and the chicken plucker fingers that helped remove feathers from varieties of poultry being prepared for human consumption. The plant looked a lot different, and the jokes were not so funny now that it was my responsibility.
The corner office, which I had worked so hard to finally occupy, was outfitted with a desk that people were afraid to put their legs under for fear of it collapsing and causing a recordable injury. This desk and the carpeting on which it rested predated the sheet-paneled conference room upgrades by about a decade.
I was ready to be in an operational role again, but I felt a LOT of pressure – pressure to succeed as a General Manager to prove that I could successfully run a business’ profit and loss in a male-dominated world. There were 3 other women running divisions out of approximately 120 at the time. I was also juggling many time-consuming items on the home front. My new husband (of three years) and I decided to buy a home near my new workplace as I couldn’t make the 2.5-hour commute daily. The real estate market in the area was unpredictably complicated and frustrating. I was also negotiating a buyback with a car dealer on a new vehicle that was unfortunately a lemon.
My oldest daughter was in her senior year of high school, and I had long been traumatized about her growing up and leaving me. I was driving back and forth very frequently on weekdays to partake in all of the Senior activities, acutely aware that this was the last Honor Roll Recognition Program, the last Show Choir Concert, the final Orchestra Concert. It was that period of life I had dreaded since she was nine years old, playing on the swing set. I remember looking over at her from the swing I was on as she was about to go down the slide, thinking, “I can’t believe this is halfway over.”
During these early transition days, I needed to get my new leadership team together. I learned that the Divisional Controller and Engineering Director had chosen to transfer to another location with my predecessor. This detail had been conveniently not mentioned when I accepted the position. So, I had to get financial and engineering leadership for the team quickly. The 30-day cycles of production and financial accounting are unrelenting, and none of the requirements of running an operation were paused for the organizational challenges needing resolution. I juggled all of it – outwardly courageous and self-assured, inwardly spinning, all the while my new team members assessing their new leader.
I also needed to turn my attention to hiring a Lean Manager. My instincts told me I had about 18 months before the Senior Operations Executive would show up to see if I could really do a lean transformation versus just teaching others how to do it. Time was of the essence.
I had arrived at my new division in March. In May, I got a call from shoe-loaning Shannon. She was looking for her next career opportunity. She wanted to stay in Chicago, had heard that I was looking for a Lean Manager, and she was interested in applying for the position. My largest and most profitable plant was in Chicago, so I was open to her living in a different location. After all, one of my other staff members was there, so it wasn’t like my whole team of direct reports would be sitting with me around a conference room table every week. As we’ve already discussed, none of the conference rooms had awe-inspiring library paneling anyway. I remember thinking that anyone who was brave enough to come work for the ex-VP of Lean to implement lean deserved a shot. And, she had loaned me her steel toes that time.
I asked her to send me her resume. It was great. She was a proper Supply Chain professional. Since material flow, which is driven by information flow, should be coming from the Supply Chain team or the “brains of the operation,” as we liked to call them, I was sure she would do well. She had been one of the first Supply Chain Trainees hired by the corporation. She had completed several rotational assignments before landing her full-time opportunity and was doing quite well. She was the personification of what intern development programs are all about.
While there is no documented hiring process for divisional staff positions that I could identify, it was broadly understood that your candidate choice must be approved one layer above you and by the functional owner (one’s dotted line boss – #matrixlife). So, Shannon went through the interview process with me and various members of my leadership team. She then was vetted by my boss and her corresponding functional boss. My Human Resources Manager was about to make the offer when I was informed that Shannon must go through an additional battery of interviewers never required for any other comparable position before or since this one was filled, to my knowledge. I am a process person. If I weren’t before college, I certainly became one as part of my Industrial Engineering education. Since this didn’t seem to be following any “standard” protocol, I was a bit frustrated.
The additional interviewer from the Corporate Human Resources team expressed concern that Shannon did not have a lean background nor had she indicated on her “Career Interest Form” that she desired to be in this Lean Manager role. Clearly, the “Career Interest Form” had somewhere along the way become a sacred document, and all moves in this global corporation were to be facilitated by strict adherence to the employee’s wishes documented therein. After some deep breathing, corporate wrangling, and a mini-meltdown about choosing my own team, particularly in the function where I was considered the “corporate expert,” Shannon and I were awarded an all-expense-paid trip to Corporate Headquarters, where I attended an interview with Shannon, my boss, and the concerned Corporate Human Resources Manager. Shannon will relay her fond memories of this meeting with you shortly. My recollection of this three-hour interview was that it was conducted in a small office that was as hot as the blazes of Hell, and Shannon, in her business suit complimented by a pair of smart black pumps, hung in there like a champ. She displayed great staying power and grit. She was most definitely my girl for the job.

Shannon

My leadership story starts very early on when I found myself committed to the sport of gymnastics. In this challenging sport, which is physically and mentally gruelling, I learned so many of the fundamental values that would carry me through life. By practicing and coaching six hours a day after eight hours of school, I learned a lot about time management. I successfully figured out how to get my homework done and graduated from high school with honors. Even though gymnastics is mostly an individual sport, I found that I wanted to lead the team. I wanted to be a role model for my teammates, be an example of hard work and dedication. I was voted captain of the team, and so, my lead...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Endorsements
• Half-Title
• Title
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• Foreword
• Preface
• Acknowledgments
• Authors
• Introduction
• 1 Baby Shoes – How It All Started
• 2 Cowboy Boots – New Sheriffs in Town
• 3 Steel Toes – Time to Hit the Plant Floor
• 4 Training Shoes – So Much Training, So Little Time
• 5 Stilettos – From the Plant to the Office
• 6 Rain Boots – Weathering the Storm
• 7 Tap Shoes – Dancing Through the Noise
• 8 Flats – Picking Up the Pace
• 9 Flip-Flops – Not Your Typical Spring Break
• 10 Hiking Boots – More Mountains to Climb
• 11 Combat Boots – Battling for Lean Honor
• 12 Party Shoes – Time to Celebrate
• Index