In Pursuit of Relief: Trusting the Process of Improvement

Every project started with getting yelled at—first, the yelling, the emoting, the freaking out.

Not by me, if every time I wondered if the way would work, yet, every time, it did. Trust the process, I reminded myself repeatedly, especially when things become so dark before the dawn.

Some screamed, “How will you know how to fix this? You’ve never even worked in this environment before.” They were right, but I wasn’t there because I had the answers.

Some rallied, “We don’t need you to tell us the solution, we know. Just give us the funding!” They might have been right, but finance, procurement, and accounting data were needed.

The silence from others was deafening. They called in sick, didn’t respond, and did everything to avoid me. I didn’t blame them; I wouldn’t want one of me walking in either.

Fortunately, I’ve been yelled at or ignored my whole life. I knew how to handle it; I had a process in my back pocket.

A Different Ending

By the end of the project, I had new supporters and new stories to circulate that destroyed the myths behind my cold welcome.

I wasn’t there to cut jobs, prove people were stupid, sinister, or slacking, establish some onerous system, or instill command and control to ensure they adhered to the new ways.

Everyone else with my title and job description might seek command and control, but I’ve been commanded and controlled myself and hated it.

I believed in empowerment, even if I had to push people into having an opinion. No problem, I knew how to help them find it, not give it to them. Like making someone vote, but not telling them what circle to mark.

I heard people admit they were glad they hadn’t proceeded down the path they had intended before I came along. They realized it would have made things worse and made it harder to find the root of the problem. They would have been in deeper.

Along the way, I often witnessed moments of eureka and giddiness when the ambiguity broke into clarity, like the sun breaking through after a whipping snowstorm. I did what I did because I loved those moments.

A Different Impact

I was increasingly asked how I did things differently by people who only saw results on a spreadsheet.

I was asked to present how to make control plans because my gains sustained while every other project slipped back. It’s not about the control plan, I would say.

Managers asked me to put on lunch and learns and teach change management. It’s about the change, I would say.

At one point, I went through an onerous sales pitch to management to let me teach a class for a week because a presentation or a lunch and learn wasn’t long enough. It didn’t answer everyone’s questions or address all the nuances that make or break change.

A month later, I taught my class. By the end, I was exhausted.

An hour after wrapping up, I knew I had failed. A key point was that everyone would do their work on their separate projects. Executives wanted everyone to work on the same project.

Worse, I found out, people were told to be there, and they didn’t even know what it was about until the course began. When they found out, most were happy doing what they had been doing the way they had been doing it and were most upset at being hauled out of their everyday lives to learn what they felt was irrelevant information.
The result is that the one person who wanted to be there and carried the rest of the class learned. But one wasn’t enough to change the perspective and attitude.

A Different Approach

One is never enough. It’s an outlier; it’s easy to ignore. You are supposed to take it out of your data. That was only one class.

Later, people asked me why they didn’t get to attend. They asked me to teach them individually and write it down.

I resisted for years, over a decade. I wanted it to be robust enough so people could follow it without me around to point out something I had forgotten to include at the last minute. It had to be simple so that the many people I assisted by taking on the math end wouldn’t be overwhelmed.

My procrastination stemmed from the desire to be clear enough so people wouldn’t misinterpret what I meant and get lost. I took a lot of notes, did a lot of research, and had a lot of conversations. And then I wrote and rewrote, edited and rewrote. I know I will not achieve that objective, but as you have read, I am not about perfection but about change for the better.

Change for the better was easiest at the beginning of my career. As a chemical engineer in a manufacturing plant, it was a matter of data analysis to determine the right change, and locking a knob down to make sure it stayed there and no one fiddled with it. It was a matter of eliminating the fiddling.

As a Black Belt, when projects dried up and discussions of future roles ensued, I asked if I could fix this Six Sigma program.

The enormity of the task was described to me. I listened intently, but I didn’t give up on that goal. Perceptions matter, so I nodded and agreed on the outside.

That’s how to get me every time. Dangle adventure in my face with a high dose of ambiguity, a good potential for failure, and the inability to point the finger at anyone or anything else. Give me a chance, expect the least, and prepare for shock and awe. Yes, sometimes it isn’t perfect, and sometimes it is just what I call living my life. In winter, I call it snowmobiling.

I had a whole career to fill, so the amount of time it might take to do it didn’t bother me. I left, knowing I’d never return. Knowing I left a painting in a gallery and didn’t leave a forwarding address. Just another painting of flowers, blue poppies this time, illustrating the notion that tall poppies get their heads chopped off, and they were kind of sad about it.

Things got interesting as I branched away from chemical engineering and machines and into service and people. By interesting, I mean confusing, requiring research and experimentation.

I confirmed my suspicion that Six Sigma is not about statistics. That was a relief because although I am a chemical engineer and calculus became my art, I do not like math. I can do it, but it does not come naturally.

The Process toward Relief

If you are a change practitioner who has to consider the people element, this is for you. If you are a leader who values your people, the interdependency of your industry, and the multitude of perspectives, this is for you.

Whatever change you are facing, this is your missing manual for overcoming new pressures and creating new profitability, even if you must find a new value proposition.
Don’t wait.

The longer you put it off, the more work you create for yourself. You may unintentionally break things as you try to improve others. Then, when your improvements start reverting, you will also have to repair any damage. It’s so much work.

You may miss the opportunity entirely if you put it off too long. Regret is painful. The 43-page Timeless Excellence guide will help you become more productive, reduce stress, and find relief.