The Value of Inefficiency

by anonymous

My first day of work, I was out on the factory floor. This was their idea of trial by fire. Their instructions were basic enough: inventory all gauges at the workbench. Search for each gauge in the database stored on the laptop; add it in a separate sheet if it's not there. The Gauge Project, as they called it, was going to be our task for the next three months. Follow the above directions and repeat. Every day. All summer.

I'm an engineer here at NU. I've taken classes in multivariable calculus, stochastic simulations, deterministic models, and all I need to do is type numbers into a spreadsheet? Where's the challenge in that? Where's the educational value? Do you really expect me to take pride in this? To be honest, I felt more than a little miffed.

Back in April when I was offered this job, I felt suddenly redeemed in my decision to pour gobs of money into an exorbitantly priced education here at Northwestern. I thought this job was going to be exactly the kind of opportunity that the lofty pedigree of NU could provide: something educational, something challenging, something worthwhile. Students from across the country fought ferociously for this coveted spot at an aerospace manufacturing company – a position that I received, in many ways, because of the name of my school and the advanced education I have received here. Sitting there on my first day, however, limply holding a chunk of metal used for God-knows-what, I began to wonder whether I'd been duped. I could have done this job with a third-grade education. There was nothing to learn here. There was nothing new. Nothing challenging. This was inane.

I spent my first week dozing off, hunched over a drawer full of gauges and getting lost in the jumbled maze of the factory floor while walking to and from the bathroom. They don't make coffee strong enough for this.

It was week two, however, when I fell head first into the real experience of the plant, a financial and political battle raging right under my nose. There was no challenge in the drawers and databases of my task, but confined within the gargantuan plant, there was more education about people, business, and industry than I'd ever imagined. In this short summer, I would learn to deride, then criticize, then respect, and finally admire in many ways, the powerful union workforce. It was the people, not the gauges, that made the difference.

In week two, my co-worker and I began working at a new bench. Unlike the last places we'd worked, the inspector would not be at his bench to work with us because he worked the night shift. No problem for us; the job was simple enough. We had been inventorying gauges for only a few minutes when a man in a scooter wearing a shirt of the United Automobile, Aerospace and Agricultural Implement Workers of America (UAW) skidded over to the bench and quickly spat, "Who's your hourly?" We explained to him that the inspector wasn't around, so we didn't have an hourly (union employee) helping us out today.

Bingo.

Within a few minutes, the union had officially filed a grievance against me and my co-worker for violating the union contract. The man called over the nearest two union employees to "supervise" our work. Meanwhile, I sat bewildered at what was going on around me. The grievance was later duly paid by my department, and I never heard of it again, almost as if they'd been waiting for it to happen.

I am a salary worker, unaffiliated with the union. According to the contract, there are certain things I'm not allowed to do on the factory floor, like move a pushcart. I can't pick up any gauges. I can't move any parts. Basically, I can't touch anything that's not white and 8 ½" x 11". One intern was actually yelled at for throwing a piece of trash in a "union" garbage can. Doing any of these things may be seen as an attempt by the company to slowly chisel away at the union, because I will be doing a union job, thereby making a union employee expendable. This is the only way the UAW can protect its employees from being slowly forced out in favor of non-union workers. However, if I can't pick up gauges, I can't do my job. Period. The offered solution to this comes in the form of union "supervisors." These hourly workers will sit beside us and do nothing while we inventory gauges. They want to make sure that the total number of people doing union jobs remains the same, so by taking these supervisors away from their normal tasks, there remains a constant demand for union work.

As an industrial engineer, this made me sick. From the very beginning, they teach you that inefficiency is the greatest evil. Cut out waste. There is an optimal solution. But now I sit with my co-worker, hacking away on the laptop while two fully capable skilled-tradesmen just sit there beside us. Four people doing the work of two. I understand and respect the principle behind the rule, but there's got to be a better way to do this.

However, as I would soon learn, inefficiency is simply the way of life in this plodding facility. The company's hourly employees probably produce more completed crossword puzzles by weight than they do engines. Union power ensures that even the most unproductive workers will be protected from management retribution. Not to claim that all or even a majority of union employees are lazy – some of the most hardworking men I've ever known spend their days on that factory floor – but far too many workers view the steadfast security the union provides not as protection from injustice but as an opportunity to read the newspaper on the company clock. These are the employees that give unions a bad name. Those who work hard do so out of pride, not incentive, and are disconcertingly few in number.

After two days at that bench, we move on to Daryl's area.

We introduce ourselves and chat for a few minutes, then Daryl asks, "You guys been workin' a lot of overtime yet?" We say no. We had been instructed specifically by our superiors to lie and tell the hourly workers that we worked on salary and did not receive pay for overtime work, as this was something guaranteed only to union employees, as per the contract. My overtime pay was nearly $25 per hour. He asks a few more questions about our job: what do we do, who do we work with, etc. Then finally he says, "You know you're taking our jobs, don't you?" I just gave him a puzzled look. Daryl laughs and says, "They don't tell you much about how this place works, do they?" He goes on to say that any lip I received for my position was simply the union trying to protect its employees. He explains that 15 years ago, there was a union position called "gauge follow-up" in charge of maintaining an inventory of all the gauges in the plant. In an effort to streamline the workforce, management eliminated the position and laid off dozens of workers. Now, in an effort to keep that position away from the union, the company hired summer interns to do the work instead. I was being used as leverage.

I'd already seen the idleness and inefficiency the union strength often caused on the floor, but now I was seeing more from the other side of the battle. As I continued working, I learned more and more of the administration's ruthless efforts to streamline, consolidate, and squeeze productivity out of the workforce. The only reason we didn't see low wages, breakneck quotas, and a suppressed labor force was not that management wouldn't stoop so low but that they couldn't. The local chapter of UAW is the archetype for the national organization. Union workers at my company have some of the highest pay, the best benefits, and the most generous work schedules of any in the country. The union has a stranglehold on the company, which is not a minor accomplishment. My company is a household name. It is a force to be reckoned with, and the union is winning. The management is taking massive pay cuts at the same time the union negotiates an even more generous contract.

So which side is right? The union clearly causes incredible barriers to production and allows employees to be paid generously, regardless of their effort or ability. The red tape and complications have brought the company to a production standstill numerous times, and despite management efforts, the contract agreements are becoming less and less in their control. At what point does this inefficiency cause the company to become unprofitable and fail? Where will the employees be then? Its highest volume engine is already being sold at a loss, even while its competitors are turning enormous profits on the same variant. The company is in shambles with outdated machinery, facilities in disrepair, and increasingly smaller research and development budgets. They are falling behind the rest of the industry because they simply can't afford the union employees.

But what's so great about efficiency anyway? (My professor is probably twitching as I type that.) Efficiency means cheaper engines for militaries and cheaper private jets for millionaires, cheaper wars and cheaper gluttony. Does management really deserve another raise? Talk all you want about profit margins and market shares, but right now, 5,000 blue-collar workers depend on generous pay to feed their families, own a home, raise their children, save for college. There comes a time when you have to set your priorities, and despite its faults, the union stands for the right people. That's enough for me.