As I type this, I am sitting in front of my screen wearing a new pair of glasses.
I have been a glasses wearer for many years, but if I am honest, it has been some time since my last eye test. Far too long, in fact.
In the intervening years, my sight has slowly degraded to a point where I am now enjoying the benefits of a brand new pair of varifocals. Apparently, they take some getting used to, but, fingers crossed, I appear to be coping quite adequately so far.
In retrospect, many of the signs that my vision was fading were present, but I chose to ignore them. Why? Perhaps there was an element of denial. In our culture, the slow loss of vision is linked to the gaining of years. Perhaps, in a sense, this was a truism that I did not wish to face, but over time I would also like to consider that I have become wiser and more experienced. My knowledge of lean systems has undoubtedly matured and become more nuanced with increased exposure – and I would like to think that I am less prone to jump in and announce to all what must be done.
As the detail on my long vision became blurrier, I began to rely on the information I was gathering from a smaller and smaller visual data-set. Without realising, I become focused on ever-decreasing slices of the world. What was fortunate was that I was not exposed to an event whereby my shrinking field of awareness became problematic. Perhaps, thousands of years ago, I would have been picked off by a stealthy sabre-toothed tiger – but today, I do have to face the fact that my ability to drive safely was also starting to come into question. When I visited the optician, I was on the right side of legal, but only just. I count myself fortunate that I had not had any tell-tale near misses.
So it seems we are describing sight as a system that degrades over time, if imperceptibly at first. Then come the feedback loops. Maybe they begin with the sensation of having tired eyes or not quite recognising the friend coming towards you. If you remain in familiar surroundings, the brain may take over and begin filling in the detail, providing you with a picture that is convincing but not entirely real.
The trouble with these feedback loops, at least initially, is that they are closed. You forget what your previous best vision felt like (on the day you received your last glasses) and falsely assume that all is right with the world. In this way, you do not have to expose yourself to the uncomfortable truth that you are drifting towards a crisis that not only will shake your confidence but will require immediate action. Regular eye tests, it seems, will help you check in to the standard of sight that you expect and correct for much smaller deviations from the target condition.
Eventually, you happen across a more open feedback loop. This tends to be when a friend or colleague reads a distant andon screen with ease and asks, with barely disguised incredulity, “can’t you see that?” Here then, like a poor quality product, is the first external warning sign.
If you are spotting a clumsy metaphor here, your intuition serves you well. With hindsight, it is easy to see the signs of a business crisis as it slowly forms on the horizon. The trouble is that it is easy to create a compelling narrative when wise after the event. Perfect retrospective insight is the domain of the faux expert – the reality is that humans do not feel these narratives apply to them and do not see them in the moment. It is always another person or business that makes that mistake; it could not happen to me.
This blindspot to our own weaknesses is one of the reasons that we need a compelling set of KPIs. The prescription given to me by my optician is great, but it is a lag metric. The downturn in my eyesight has already taken place. Lead metrics, i.e. early warnings, could be my ability to read comfortably and without fatigue or how fully I can enjoy a hobby, like mine of playing darts.
But here is where my metaphor breaks down. My slow loss of vision was inevitable. All I can do is react at shorter intervals to maintain near-optimum performance. The more tests I have, the smaller the difference between prescriptions and the smaller the noticeability of my decline. While the lenses become stronger, I have to face the fact that the natural, unmodified eye is becoming weaker. That, I am afraid, is a fact of life.
The good news is that this same relationship is not mandatory with a lean business system. Yes, we will experience fluctuations in fortunes, but it is possible to become what Nassim Nicholas Taleb describes as “antifragile” – e.g. an organisation that becomes improved regardless of circumstance. Furthermore, such an organisation welcomes temporary failure and harm, as it knows that it will only fuel more significant and more robust growth.
Such learning and growing organisations recognise that success is built upon the sands of adversity. Failure is recognised as temporary and is welcomed with open arms. Foundations, such as standardised work, improvement and coaching katas, and training systems, such as TWI, are embedded and endemic. Quality and customer orientation are the watchwords of everybody within the business. Perhaps 5S is not even formalised, as it is within the DNA and daily standards of everybody at every level.
With these daily habits, a deviation from the standard is immediately seen. I did not receive my coaching today. My 5S adherence has decreased. I do not need to wait for the lag metric of another eye test. My vision is already twenty-twenty.
So, I shall embrace my new glasses and inevitable ageing with zeal. I will enjoy the best vision that I have had in years, and, hopefully, I can apply it to see best where I can aid others. That is the measure of a lean coach and helper.