Power at Work : Manufacturing Decisions

Extracts from Nice Work pp 74, 75-76, 80-81

Vic Wilcox : Managing Director of Pringles

Brian Everthorpe : Marketing Manager of Pringles

Bert Braddock : Works Manager

Roy Mackintosh : Managing Director of a local foundry

Vic Wilcox asks Brian Everthorpe to stay for a meeting he has arranged with his technical and production managers. They file into the office and sit round the long oak table, slightly in awe of Vic, serious men in chain-store suits, with pens and pencils sticking out of their breast pockets. Brian Everthorpe takes a chair at the far end of the table, slightly withdrawn as if to mark his difference from the engineers. Vic sits at the head of the table, in his shirtsleeves, half a cup of cold coffee at his right hand. He unfolds a sheet of computer printout.

‘Does anybody know,’ he says, ‘how many different products this firm made last year?’ Silence. ‘Nine hundred and thirty-seven. That’s about nine hundred too many, in my opinion.

‘You mean different specs, don’t you? Not products,’ says the technical manager, rather boldly.

‘All right, different specs. But every new specification means that we have to stop production, retool or reset the machines, stop a flow line, or whatever. That costs time, and time is money. Then the operatives are more likely to make mistakes when set-ups are constantly changing, and that leads to increased wastage. Am I right?’

‘My point is simply this,’ says Vic. ‘We’re producing to many different things in short runs, meeting small orders. We must rationalize. Offer a small range of standard products at competitive prices. Encourage our customers to design their systems around our products.’

‘Why should they?’ says Brian Everthorpe, tipping his chair back on its rear legs and hooking his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets.

‘Because the product will be cheap, reliable and available at short notice,’ says Vic. ‘If they want something manufactured to their own spec, OK, but we insist on a thumping great order or a high price.’

‘And if they won’t play?’ says Brian Everthorpe.

‘Then let them go elsewhere.

‘I don’t like it,’ says Brian Everthorpe. ‘The small orders bring in the big ones.

The heads of the other men present have been swivelling from side to side, like spectators at a tennis match, during this argument. They look fascinated but slightly frightened.

‘I don’t believe that, Brian,’ says Vic. ‘Why should anybody order long when they can order short and keep their inventory down?’

‘I’m talking about goodwill,’ says Brian Everthorpe. ‘Pringle’s has a slogan —‘

‘Yes, I know, Brian,’ says Vic Wilcox. ‘If it can be made, Pringle’s will make it. Well, I’m proposing a new slogan. If it’s profitable, Pringle’s will make it.’

‘Any more questions?’ says Vic Wilcox, looking at his watch.

‘Just one point, Vic,’ says Bert Braddock, the Works Manager. ‘If we rationalize production like you say, will that mean redundancies?’

‘No,’ says Vic, looking Bert Braddock straight in the eye. ‘Rationalization will mean growth in sales. Eventually we’ll need more men, not fewer.’ Eventually perhaps, if everything goes according to plan, but Braddock knows as well as Vic that some redundancies are inevitable in the short term. The exchange is purely ritual in function, authorizing Bert Braddock to reassure anxious shop stewards if they start asking awkward questions.

Vic dismisses the meeting and, as the men file out, stands up and stretches. He goes to the window, and fiddles with the angle of the louvred blinds. Staring out across the car park, where silent, empty cars wait for their owners like patient pets, he ponders the success of the meeting. The telephone console on his desk buzzes.

‘It’s Roy Mackintosh, Wragcast,’ says Shirley.

‘Put him on.’

Roy Mackintosh is MD of a local foundry that has been supplying Pringle’s with castings for many years. He has just heard that Pringle’s is not reordering, and has phoned to inquire the reason.

‘I suppose someone is undercutting us,’ he says.

‘No, Roy,’ says Vic. ‘We’re supplying ourselves now.’

‘From that old foundry of yours?’

‘We’ve made improvements.

‘You must have…'Roy Mackintosh sounds suspicious. After a certain amount of small talk, he says casually ‘Perhaps I might drop by some time. I’d like to have a look at this foundry of yours.’

‘Sure.’ Vic does not welcome this proposal, but protocol demands a positive response. ‘Tell your secretary to fix with mine.’

Vic goes into Shirley’s office, shrugging on the jacket of his suit. Brian Everthorpe, who is hanging over Shirley'a desk, straightens up guiltily. Griping about the boss, no doubt.

‘Hallo, Brian. Still here?’

‘Just off.’ Smiling blandly, he tugs the points of his waistcoat down over his paunch and sidles out of the office

‘Roy Mackintosh wants to look round the foundry. When his secretary rings, put him off as long as you decently can. Don’t want the whole world knowing about the KW.’

‘OK,’ says Shirley, making a note.

‘I’m just going over there now, to see Tom Rigby. I'll drop into the machine shop on my way.’