Page 12 of Joy to Noel
I could rattle off similar summaries of all the key employees, thanks to two weeks of diligent prep work. After all, if I’m going to swiftly and decisively win the chess match, I need to understand what pieces I’m working with. I’ve memorized the key players—what I don’t know is how this plant managed to fall grossly behind production goals while bleeding out a disproportionate amount of money.
Yet. But I intend to figure it out quickly.
A man with red hair and a matching beard makes his way toward me. He’s dressed in a basic pair of navy pants and a white button-up shirt embroidered with the Pure Fur All logo. As he reaches the front desk, he holds out his hand in introduction.
“Mr. Park, I’m Beau Olson. We’re glad to have you here to help get things in better shape,” he says. I meet his firm handshake, appreciating his honest welcome. He gestures behind him, “Would you like me to give you a tour of the facility?”
“I will be looking around the entire plant but not immediately,” I answer. “Where is Mr. Singer, the floor manager?”
Beau’s brow furrows as he glances at Amanda. “Uh, Mr. Singer hasn’t worked here since the beginning of December.”
Of course, they sent me outdated personnel information from this train wreck of a facility. How much more of my prep work was worthless due to incorrect reports?
“If Mr. Singer is gone, call the new floor manager, please. I’d like to talk with him or her first thing,” I state.
More nervous looks between Beau and Amanda. “We don’t have a floor manager right now. A replacement for Mr. Singer was neverhired.”
Closing my eyes, I sigh heavily. “You mean you’ve been operating without a floor manager for three months?” They reluctantly nod. Under my breath, I mutter, “No wonder this is a dumpster fire.” I rake a hand down my face and then look at Beau. “First, I’d like to address all the employees here who are able to temporarily leave their stations. Is there a space conducive to a quick all-hands meeting?”
Beau nods and turns to Amanda. “Why don’t you make an announcement for everyone who’s able to gather in the empty wing in fifteen minutes?” She immediately picks up the phone to dial the all-call intercom number, and I follow Beau out of the reception area.
“There’s an unused wing in the facility?” I ask Beau. “Why would there be usable space sitting empty?”
Beau explains as we walk. “The meat-packing plant that was here before took up more space than the machinery needed for the initial cat food production line. I guess the Pure Fur All execs figured they could expand later if they wanted to.”
“Good thing they didn’t start off maximizing the space, considering how poorly things have been run so far,” I observe. Beau’s shoulders slump slightly, but he doesn’t argue. He leads us through a door and flips on lights that illuminate an expansive room. The floors look like they were coated for eventual production with proper drains installed, but otherwise, the space is untouched.
“What did you think of the former plant manager?” I ask Beau while we wait for the rest of the employees to join us. Testing his level of candor.
Beau shrugs. “Mr. Wilson? He wasn’t the type of guy to make a strong impression. I honestly didn’t interact with him a lot.”
My eyes narrow. “You’re the head engineer overseeing all the machinery. But you hardly interacted with the plant manager?”
To his credit, Beau maintains his composure, aside from tapping one foot. “Your presence here is an indicator of how good of a job Mr. Wilson was doing at managing the factory.”
“But you didn’t deem it appropriate to push for more interaction? To force more attention when there were issues?” I press. In reality, I already know that Beau was one of the proverbial whistle-blowers alerting Pure Fur All of John Wilson’s negligence. But he doesn’t knowthat I know this. And I need to know what kind of backbone the guy has.
Beau squares his shoulders. “I pressed for more oversight through every channel available to me. When Mr. Wilson was unresponsive, I ultimately went above his head with my concerns. I take my job and my responsibilities very seriously, and I don’t appreciate any implication otherwise,” he says, a hint of defiance in his tone.
Good.
Nodding my approval, I reward his mettle. “I’d like you to give me a full tour after the all-hands meeting. I have a list of further questions I’d like on-the-ground insight on.”
Beau clears his throat and stands a little taller. “Can do. You’ll need to remove—”
“The coat and tie, and put on a hard hat,” I cut in. This isn’t my first production line rodeo, after all. I don’t want Beau or anyone else thinking I need my hand held while I’m here.
“Yes, sir,” Beau responds just as a wave of people flood into the space. Eventually, I see Amanda enter and give Beau a nod, seeming to indicate that everyone with the flexibility to leave their stations has arrived. There are probably seventy-five or so people standing around, so I make my way up a staircase at the side of the room to stand on a platform in order to be clearly seen and heard. Everyone from janitors to packaging line workers to machinists are gathered, staring at me with varying levels of scrutiny and distrust.
“Thank you for stepping away from your posts for a few minutes, even if it means going back through the hygiene sanitation process before reentering the production floor,” I begin. I notice a few facial expressions shift from open cynicism to veiled curiosity.
Yes, I do my homework. I do whatever needs to be done in order to take control of the situations I walk into. Even if it means watching boring videos about sanitation processes in pet food production facilities—after all, we can’t have microbes or bacteria being transferred into our beloved pets’ food.
I certainly wouldn’t want any contaminants in Hamlet’s food.
“My name is Liam Park, and I work for the parent company that owns Pure Fur All. I have years of experience assessing and improvingthe operations of failing companies and facilities, which is what I’m here to do,” I say. “I’m going to cut to the chase—this is a failing facility. You’re somehow underperforming and overspending in egregious fashion, and I’m here to find out precisely how that’s been happening. Then, I’ll make whatever changes are necessary to fix it.”
People shift nervously on their feet, darting glances at fellow employees. This is the part where people inevitably start to fear for their jobs, their livelihoods. Considering the recent history of the town, I’d wager that fear is amplified to an even higher degree than usual.
