|
I haven’t
seen much of my contractor-neighbor Jorge lately, so when
his wife called to ask me over to dinner last week, I jumped
at the chance. In addition to my hankering for some of Mary’s
great cooking, I needed an update on how Jorge’s business
was doing.
When I first met
Jorge a couple of years ago, he had four full-time employees
and a half-dozen pieces of equipment, so when he told me about
some of the new toys he bought in the past three months,
I was really impressed, and I told him so.
"Don’t
be," he said with an obvious grump in his voice.
My interest perked
up to an unbelievable high. "What’s going on?"
I asked.
"Gol-darned
people problems," he growled–or at least it was
something like that. "Let’s go for a walk."
"You know
I’ve got two crews going now," he announced after
we went about a half mile at boot-camp stride. I didn’t
know, but I nodded and kept my mouth shut. After another eighth
of a mile of silent reflection, he stopped abruptly. "You
just can’t be everywhere at once," he blurted as
if I had just accused him of something. After a few more seconds,
he took off walking again at a more leisurely pace, explaining
the situations in which he now found himself as much for his
own benefit as mine.
"I’ve
got 24 people on the payroll at the moment; half of them who
don’t know squat about construction." This was an
exaggeration, of course, but his point was valid. Siegfried,
his head grader driver, ran one crew while Steve, who’d
been with him from the very first, oversaw the other. Both
were top-notch equipment operators with magic in their fingers
and feet, but as Jorge spun his tales of woe, it became increasingly
apparent that neither of his recently appointed foremen was
particularly skillful in his new role. "I was a happy
man before this year," he lamented, and I could see he
really meant it.
By rights, Jorge
should be even happier today. After all, he has so many contracts
in sight that he he’s able to cherry pick the best and
send thank-you notes to the rest. So much money is rolling
into his bank account that the local brokers have set up camp
on his business phone. Most of his equipment is less than
a year old, and he’s in the enviable position of being
able to equip his machines with some of the new trick stuff
that makes him even more money because of the increased productivity
they bring. Most of all, he’s able at last to spend time
doing what he laughingly calls "strategic thinking,"
which to him in the past meant the ability to look at the
world from more than a foot above the dirt he’s working.
"My people
are going to put me in an early grave," he sighed, half
in jest, but half seriously. "Last week Steve got into
a shouting match with Tony [who has been driving a dozer for
Jorge for over a year and really knows his stuff], and before
I could get there, the two of them were rolling around on
the ground like a couple of school kids." At this point
I couldn’t hold back from laughing at the way Jorge described
and pantomimed the affair. At first he shot me a dirty look,
but then he too began to shake. "Yeah," he admitted
as the old Jorge came to the surface at last. "It
was a pretty silly sight, but it’s still a bad situation."
After another moment he repeated his prior complaint: "I
can’t be everywhere at once."
"What happened
when you were promoted to E-4? Did they send you to some sort
of leadership school?" I asked, hoping that the Army
had done what it was supposed to.
"Sure,"
he answered. "I was in Germany at the time, so they sent
me to 7th Army’s NCO School at Bad Toelz."
"How was it?"
"Tough,"
he replied after a moment’s reflection. "Tougher
than boot camp even, but I learned a lot about dealing with
troops and helping them to get all their mess gear together."
In fact, he continued without prompting, it was the best school
he’d ever gone to; in many ways, he confided, the best
preparation he’d ever gotten for running his own business.
We had just turned
on his driveway when he stopped and said, "You know,
I wish there were an NCO School I could send Steve and Siegfried
to. Then maybe I wouldn’t toss and turn all night wondering
what kind of fur ball they’ll get me into next."
"Thanks a
lot for all the great ideas," he said as I took my leave
after dinner. "I’m going to see what kinds of schools
are out there." To my recollection, I hadn’t uttered
so much as a word of advice. But who knows; maybe I laughed
at the right time.
Send
John an Email
|
