If you have a repeated production process, the method for improving it is almost always the same, regardless of what you and your team produce:

1. Measure before you change. You can’t improve what you haven’t observed. Go to the floor, watch the actual work, time it, and document what’s really happening—not what you assume is happening. Taylor called this time study. Operations research calls it data collection. Either way, you start by looking.

2. Map the flow. Trace the path of materials and information from start to finish. Where does work queue up? Where does it sit idle? Where does it move backward? A simple process flow diagram reveals bottlenecks you’d never see otherwise.

3. Identify the constraint. Your system can only move as fast as its slowest step. Find it. Everything else is secondary until you address that bottleneck. (At a buffet, when you double the number of stations of the slowest item, the entire line runs faster.)

4. Separate value from waste. For every step, ask: does this transform the product in a way the customer would pay for? Anything else—waiting, moving, inspecting, reworking—is waste. You don’t need to eliminate all of it, but you need to see it.

5. Standardize the best-known method. This is Taylor’s core insight: once you find a better way, write it down, teach it, and make it the default. Not to control workers, but to create a floor that everyone can build on. Deming’s insight is that variation is the enemy of quality.

6. Reduce variation before you optimize speed. This is Deming’s most important and surprising lesson. A consistent process running at moderate speed beats an erratic one running fast. Get the process under statistical control first.

7. Build in feedback loops, not inspection gates. Smart managers don’t like end-of-line inspection because it’s too late. Instead, give the people doing the work the information and authority to catch problems as they happen. The goal is to make quality intrinsic to the process, not bolt it on after.

8. Optimize the system, not the parts. This is where operations research and Deming converge. Making one station 30% faster can actually make the whole system worse if it just piles up inventory before the next step. Ask: what does this change do to the entire flow?

9. Involve the people doing the work. Taylor got this wrong—he treated workers as interchangeable parts. Deming fixed this: the people on the floor know things management never will. Create structured ways to capture that knowledge. Invest in reducing fear so people will share what they know.

10. Iterate in small cycles. Plan-Do-Study-Act is Deming’s learning wheel. Don’t redesign everything at once. Make a small change, measure the result, learn from it, adjust. Then do it again. The factory you want isn’t built in a single leap—it emerges from dozens of small, informed improvements compounding over time.

The meta-principle underneath all ten: respect the system and the people in it. Change the system before you blame the people.

And don’t get efficient at doing something you’d rather not be doing at all.

      

Many of these students have been let down before, and it’s easier to be skeptical than to make a commitment, only to be disappointed later.

If it happens over time, it becomes part of how we see ourselves. And that person might end up in a job where they seek to do as little as possible and care less.

For good reasons, then, there are two sorts of attitudes people bring to work:

1. how much can I contribute, what can I learn, how do I make this count?
2. dread, ennui and a desire to do as little as possible.

For a great job or a committed teacher, it’s a shame if someone brings a failure attitude to work. They’re wasting a slot that someone else could have thrived in.

And for a lousy job, one that offers little dignity or possibility, we’re wasting all the potential of someone who seeks to contribute.

Getting the match right helps the organization and the worker as well.

Resumes give few clues about the attitude people bring to work. But finding the right match could save a lot of time and heartbreak.

      

A set of German-made socket wrenches can turn a bolt in a similar way to a cheaper alternative, but it feels far more rewarding.

More than forty years ago, I started using a Mac. The first thing one noticed was hard to put words on–everything about it simply clicked better. The mouse was an extension of your mind.

Today, a 128k Mac is an ancient relic, and the current models have raised the standard. The other day, I needed to use a cheap PC laptop, and the difference was startling. I felt like I was wearing gloves.

This fit-and-finish design and production ethic can be extended from typography to the way we answer the phone. It’s largely invisible, but it takes consistent and quiet effort.

The investments we make in fit and finish will always need to be defended from the short-term penny counters that seek to take away the budget in a quest to save a few dollars today instead of investing in tomorrow.

It’s not cheap, but it’s a bargain.

      

After we learn fractions, the teacher moves on to decimals. After we read O’Connor, we’re handed Faulkner. In music history, Debussy follows Brahms. Chemistry after biology.

It persists in some places after school… the museum hangs Picasso in the next room after Braque.

And in the old days, the newspaper editors spent a lot of time organizing their stories and their pages.

But now… nothing.

Random access. No attention paid to what we need to know now, what follows from where we are, what’s about to be important.

Not at work and not as citizens.

Instead, it’s a random-access blizzard of emails, meetings and alerts. A mob screaming about the emergency of the moment without lining up the context first. Part of our dislocation and ennui come from the lack of a shared curriculum.

Choosing what’s next might be the most important decision we make today.

      

Each of us knows that we’re motivated by positive feedback. We’re drawn to behaviors and activities that earn us a smile or a prize. And yet, we often forget to reward the businesses, behaviors and systems we want more of.

Many of us are drawn to invented controversies, hustles, one-click bargains, come-ons, convenience that comes at a high price, division, brawls, tired tropes, social networks that trap us and, while we’re at it, a big bag of fried chips.

Actually, you’re a philanthropist, doling out attention and cash to the behaviors you care about. Invest wisely.

If people stop going to the circus, the clowns go home.

      

Hunkering down, hoping we won’t get noticed. A safe spot, worth concealing.

The problem with hiding out from responsibility or change is that we’re also hiding from time. But time always finds us.

      

1. Race through this last part. Deal with your fear of the threshold by shipping the work as soon as you possibly can.
2. Stall and avoid. Fear is at its peak, and your perfectionism (or that of the team) kicks in, and Resistance wins. Right here, after all this work, on the verge, and it stalls.
3. Delight on the cusp. It’s imminent. We worked hard, it came together. How can we sit with this, just for a moment, breathing in the possibility and adding one last detail…

We face this choice daily, but rarely name it or prepare for it.

The moment just before shipping is where magic and leverage can dance together.

Updates:

Live in NY on September 21: I have 55 seats left for the Knot launch event happening in a few weeks. All the details are here. Ticket buyers will receive the five-pack and a Spindex as well. If you’re local to New York, I hope to see you there.

and…

By popular request, we’re offering a pre-order 5-pack of The Knot along with the limited-edition Spindex. It’s $95 and there are a few hundred available.

Problems can be solved.

      

The 800 toll-free number shifted the dynamic we expected from marketers. If we call you, we expect you to answer. Now, not later. FEDEX did the same for physical items–yes, of course I absolutely want it here tomorrow.

The race for speed doesn’t often have economic justification. I can probably live without a return label or customer service or some rabbit chow for a few minutes or even a few days…

But it’s the thought that counts.

If you’re not selling a commodity at the lowest price, that’s what you’ve got to sell. The thought.

Stories are built on a foundation of thoughtfulness, the empathy of seeing where the others are, what they dream of and what they fear.

And ‘quick response’ is one of the cheapest and most reliable ways to demonstrate that empathy.

      

Milton Friedman argued (mistakenly, in my view) that the corporation doesn’t need to care about customers, unless this helps increase the value of the company to shareholders.

Corporations are a cultural fiction, something we created and permit to exist because it serves the community. In exchange for leverage and insulation, the corporations are expected to be of use and to improve conditions for those they serve–not to be a tool to enrich a few shareholders.

As power becomes more concentrated and money becomes more leveraged, it’s easy to see how attractive it is to sell Friedman’s idea to people seeking a short-term profit.

As we drift away from Drucker’s point, though, we all suffer.

Financial engineering rarely builds value for the long run.

      

It works in just about every endeavor we sign up for.

The system would like us to be insatiable on its behalf, but that’s not an invitation we’re required to accept.