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The “The Lean Sensei – Go, See, Challenge” is published by the wonderful people at The Lean Enterprise Institute. Indeed, this book is the collaborative output of six lean experts, namely; Michael Balle, Nicolas Chartier, Pascale Coignet, Sandrine Olivencia, Daryl Powell and Elvind Reke.

With this many experts working on the piece, one could be forgiven for expecting a patchwork of knowledge, loosely strung together with a vague thread.

However, this is certainly not the case. “The Lean Sensei” delivers a focused view of the topic of the lean sensei, and it does so with language which is both beautifully simple, yet decidedly accurate.

If you are looking for a deep overview of the tools and techniques that a Lean Sensei might use, then this book will make you think again. That is certainly what I did, and that is where the beauty of the book lies. It forces reflection, on a deep and meaningful level. In that way, maybe it asks more questions than it answers, in much the same way that a skilled sensei might.

In this sense, it delivers the central message with skill, hiding it in plain sight. I will not share that message here, as that would not allow you the chance to discover it for yourself. Reading that sentence, I am convinced that I have learned something of true value from this book.

For me, this book is an easy 5 out of 5. I would recommend it to anyone who is interested in lean, or wider business systems.

Please find a link to purchase, through my shop.

There is a song by The Stranglers with the title “No More Heroes.” One reading of the lyrics is that it bemoans the absence of heroes in the modern age, but there are still many out there, if you know where to look!

Businesses are often full of heroes – though in this context, I mean those people, who you work with, who are there at 0600 and don’t go home until 2100, at the earliest. You will know of their existence, because they will probably tell you, or at least book meetings for you deep into the evening. Do you really want to be the one that doesn’t attend?

It is often true that many of this type of hero do an excellent job. To work with the drive of these people is a remarkable trait but, in the long term, it cannot possibly be sustainable.

Continue reading No more heroes…

I recently co-delivered a day of training that dealt with the topic of Training Within Industry, or TWI. TWI was a training methodology developed in the US during the Second World War, to address the labour and skills shortage felt within key industries, as the regular labour force were drafted to fight. It was primarily women that answered the call and continued to drive the wheels of American industry, and the excellent and important work that they did had as its foundation one major factor; the quality and structure of the training that they received.

There are three main factors underpinning the success of TWI. They are Job Instruction, Job Methods and Job Relations. Methods seek to break down a task into its constituent steps. In this way the trainer can analyse and define the key points, knacks and techniques, which can then be standardised and passed on. Relations can then take that analysis and apply it to the rigours of the PDCA cycle, hence seeking to continuously improve the operation by questioning the current best method.

But my attention was drawn to the Job Instruction process. Instruction refers to the way that the training is delivered, in an experiential and hands-on fashion. In itself, it is broken down into four main steps:

1) Prepare the worker.
2) Present the operation.
3) Let the learner try out the operation.
4) Create a follow-up plan with the learner.

Continue reading Training Within Industry

A lot of us carry around similar beliefs, that were often instilled during childhood. We are taught to work hard and at the same time to dream appropriate dreams. By all means, seek to step out ahead, just don’t go too far.

This creates a comfort zone that is incredibly difficult to break out of, because most of us do not even know that we are in it. I would suggest that you are different, because you are reading this. It is this dichotomy that causes us pain and is at the root of many of our failures in life. We aim to make positive moves, but on a subconscious level, we sabotage ourselves. We wouldn’t want our friends and family to think that we were ungrateful or ashamed of where we started, would we?

So, we head into business, we get our first role and we aim to climb the corporate ladder. We develop the same loyalty for a company as we do for the environment in which we were raised and we bring our own diffidence relating to success with us. Success is fine, as long as it is not to showy and self-aggrandising.

So it is that most of us find ourselves working in businesses and jobs where success is not celebrated, but failure is immediately punished. We are part of the organic input into any endeavour that creates the blame culture. We will do anything to prevent the spotlight falling on us, whether that be in either a positive or a negative sense.

Success, it then seems, needs some time to get used to, to accept that it is not such a bad thing. By releasing little gifts of success into our business, we can create a success consciousness that seeps into the human DNA on which our processes pulse. Rather than look for the waste, or the opportunity for optimisation, let’s celebrate the people inputs on the SIPOC map of our world.

If something goes right, let’s celebrate it! Let’s share it. Let’s say ‘yes!’ we did it, now let’s do it again. Naturally, balance is required, we must be careful about falling down the rabbit hole of praising people for doing what they are being paid to do, but we can give thanks for an innovative idea, a great quarterly result, or somebody simply going the extra mile.

A thank you from a manager can derive extra service for the rest of the year.

Where I live, it seldom snows. I live in a coastal town with the smell of the sea in the air and the surrounding downs and hills form a set of protective arms that hug the south of the county in the midst of the winter grip.

So, when the snow arrives, it feels like a strange visitor that gently falls along the harbour, beach, pathways and roads. The red-tiled roofs become white and the cars puff up and hide under their new coats. All becomes hidden; a crisp white sheet descends and re-imagines the landscape anew.

And so it is when we begin to strive towards personal or continuous improvement. The new realisations, learning and breakthroughs fall upon our buzzing mindscape like the fresh winter snow. All appears crisp and clean, with the bright clarity of the winter sun reflecting on the snow sheen. Perhaps we head out into this new paradigm and sled across the smoothness of our new thinking, our colourful scarves billowing in the laughter-wind. We feel alive again, the freedom of lost youth is restored.

Then the snow melt begins. The whiteness recedes and the first inkling of the frozen grass reaches forth into the chill air. The old ground slowly appears back to our view, at first in small, incongruent islands, that reach into the white sea to join and engulf that which had given us joy. The ephemeral mindset has melted. Normal life has reached through and has resumed.

It can feel like this on our journey of growth and development. For moments, we exist in the realisation of something new and exciting. Things make sense, pathways seem clear. Then real life has a habit of re-emerging and halting the momentum. As we feel this as people, so we also see it in the businesses in which we work. The flavour of the month activity that seems to pull us in the right direction suddenly loses the impetus, and things very much return to what they were before.

So, when the snows come, and deliver us a land which is temporarily new and inspiring, whilst that momentum is fresh within us, we need to learn to love the idiosyncrasies of the old, well-trodden paths beneath, so that, when they inevitably emerge again, we look upon them, not with tired eyes, but with eyes that appreciate them anew – much as if they were covered by a layer of fresh, transformative snow.

I recently watched a demonstration of coaching as part of an online course that I am taking. It was a simple exercise where the coach was drawing out the desired state, the place that the person would like to be, from their coachee. There was nothing startling about the way that this work began, it was just a few simple questions from the coach, asking the coachee to visualise their desired state and the resources that they would have had to have utilised to get there. These might have been physical tools or skills, but it essence it transpired that the outcomes were more feelings and ideas that the coachee currently had. It was a great session to observe and some useful breakthroughs were made. As I reflected on what I had seen, I compared the techniques that the coach had used with the GROW model, with which I am already familiar. GROW stands for Goal: Reality; Options (or Obstacles) and Will (or Way forward). Firstly, you should establish the goal of your coachee. Where would they like to be? What is it that they would like to achieve? Secondly; Where is their starting point? What is their current reality? What is the gap between where they would like to be and where they would like to go? Thirdly; What different ways are there of getting there? What is currently blocking their path? What went well the last time they tried this? What have they learned from previous attempts? What would they do next if they already knew all the answers? Finally; What is the next step? What will you coachee commit to achieving before you see them next? How will you know that this has been done? Yes, what I had seen was something akin to this, but it had all seemed a lot simpler. Then an obvious truth came to the fore. It became clear to me how little the coach had spoken during the encounter. It was also apparent just how much silence there had been in the demonstration. The growth had happened in the silence. I sat and pondered that for a while. The growth had happened in the silence. I reflected back on how I have always operated as a coach. I realised that silence was like a vacuum for me! I always had to fill it by asking the question in a different way or guiding people towards my expected answer. I had stumbled upon a great learning point. I could be a much better coach by saying less. I could be a much better coach by simply listening and allowing my coachee the space in which to grow.
Just last week, I put this into practice. Using the GROW model, I coached a colleague on leading his team. I said very little. I left the long silences…and a marvellous thing happened. My coachee filled them with insight, insight that he hadn’t really considered that he had. Already, in that short time, perhaps twenty minutes in total, he had become more confident in the leadership abilities that he already had and I, I had taken a step forward to becoming a better coach. All thanks to the sound of silence.

There is a place that I like to go. It is not a real place, more it resides in the landscape of my mind, where it changes and morphs, occurring to the current, external need. I would describe the place as a small cove, with a Joycean bend of bay and swerve of shore that encapsulates the golden sands in the gentle crescent of the ragged cliff, itself atopped with green and sprouting face bursts verdancy, in which live tiny birds of dazzling hues. Every morning, the perfect sun rises from the bronze sea, which continues to roll upon the shore with a gentle consistency. The sun climbs and I feel it illuminate and warm my smooth skin, for here, I am physically perfect. I am lean, fit and muscular and if I wish to run and somersault along the beach, then I can and I do! As I face the sea, to my left, hewn from marble ten feet high, is the word ‘Love,’ a permanent reminder of the greatest force in the Universe. If, back in the other world, I am feeling fearful, then with a stick, or a toe, I might write the word ‘fear’ in the sands, then watch, as the waves roll in and slowly erase it, so that it never was, and the granules fall back into a perfect sheen. Love is permanent. Fear is temporary. Guides can appear on the beach, and we will sit in the angle of the marble ‘L’, looking across the bay and converse in soft tones against the symphony of the sea. I hear the soft tones, the gentle waves and the multi-warmth of the love and the sun. I taste the airborne spray and feel the sand slip between my fingers. It is a multi-sensory singularity. A place where I can escape, seek an audience with my higher self and depart back into day, with perhaps clarity, or soothing. We all have a place that we like to go, when we disappear behind our eyes. This is mine.

I am currently writing a book called ‘Kaizen Your Life.’ Over the past couple of evenings, I have been spending time re-reading the text that I currently have, mainly with a mind to assessing how the information flows and to ascertain which topics are either missing or need further explanation.
As I have been going through I have, naturally, been correcting spelling errors, mistakes and clunky pieces of prose. True, the word processer helps here, by drawing my eye to the squiggly red underlinings that litter the pages like autumnal leaves. But there is a second category of errors, one which the computer is powerless to detect, namely where those mispelt words are spelling other valid words. It needs to context of human experience and knowledge to spot these. It got me thinking about the work that I have been doing to transition into someone more deliberate. It is the stuff that cannot be seen, that we have to be brave enough to hunt down, that is key. The red underlinings that the world sees in us are unimportant. It is when we are happy with the way our own story reads that we can deliberately define and choose where it goes. Best wishes.

I have another passion in my life, one seemingly unrelated to my passion for Continuous and Personal Development. I love the game of darts. I have been playing, on and off, for about thirty years now. For me though, greatness did not beckon. It has become clear that I will not be turning professional anytime soon! However, I still derive great joy and benefit from playing for fun. Darts is actually one of those games where thinking is detrimental to the outcome, so there is a certain therapeutic nature to throwing those small tungsten missiles at that colourful round target, which hangs almost eight feet away. The dart gives a beautiful thud as it enters the board and, every so often, though less so for a player of my skill level, there comes a moment where everything in the mechanics of the throw goes right. You hit a sweet spot. You know that you are going to hit the target before the dart leaves your hand. It is a wonderful, wonderful feeling. You know that you are going to be successful before the final thud of confirmation. In this instant, you are playing with freedom and real joy. The trick is to replicate it. Over and over again.
So actually, my passion for this sport (and I think it is a sport) is not too far removed from my passion for Continuous and Personal Development. When you practice, you are aiming to make a series of small incremental improvements. In the moment, and the collective moments that follow, it is difficult to notice that your skill level is slowly rising, but it is. It is a simple game. Success relies on the continued repetition of a throwing action. The foundation of this action is in your feet and the way that you stand, with balance and with solidity. Movement is the enemy of the darts player! The elbow becomes the fulcrum of the entire action, as the forearm goes over, again and again. Any undesired movement in the elbow could see the dart dragged low, pushed high, or pulled to the left and right. If you are a few millimetres off line at the beginning of your throw, the distance that the dart travels to the board magnifies this effect and you could find yourself missing the target by half an inch. A twenty will become a one. The whole body must cooperate in this one harmonious action. Any rotation of the shoulder or of the head could be disastrous. You must keep your eyes on the target throughout! True, your target will change, but your just readjust your aim and throw without thinking, trusting that you will find that sweet spot and that you will be successful before you even start.
So what is my inspiration for writing this post? Last night, on New Year’s Day 2018, the final of the World Darts Championship was held in Alexandra Palace, London. It was a poignant event. The greatest ever exponent of the game, a one Phil Taylor, had fought his way to the World final of his final event before retiring. Back in 1990, Phil had won his first World title, when he beat his mentor, the man that had previously been the best, Eric Bristow, by 6 sets to 1 in the final. 28 years on, and with an incredible 16 World Championship wins to his name, Phil Taylor found himself on stage in his 20th World Final. His had been a life dedicated to finding that small incremental improvement again and again and again. Over the decades, rivals had come, and rivals had gone, but Phil Taylor had remained a constant, a man fiercely dedicated to living his purpose and pursuing his goal, a man who lived in that sweet spot of the moment, again and again and again. His opponent last night was born in the same year that Phil had won his first World crown. Rob Cross, up until February 2017, hadn’t even been a professional, but he lived with a dream. He too burned with the same zeal that had driven his illustrious opponent for nearly thirty years. So, what was that outcome? In a way it doesn’t matter, but there was a satisfying symmetry about it. In 1990, the newcomer had beaten the master and, so it was last night. Rob Cross emerged the new champion, winning by 7 sets to 1 and averaging a score of 106 every time he visited the board. Phil Taylor, gracious in defeat, left the arena to his retirement, thirty years of dedication to continuous improvement and personal development having taken him to the top of the world. Now it was time to pass the baton. A new champion had emerged. We all have it within us to be champions, but what can we learn from the humble darts player, as we pursue our dreams? Find your process, align to your target, follow through and trust to the outcome. Perhaps that is it. Or perhaps it is simpler. Perhaps it is to live in the simple joy of doing something that you love and being the best you can be.

I have been doing a lot of self examination today – trying to uncover and identify those things in life that are holding me back. I have found a lot of clarity today – and was inspired to share this with you.

Blessings to you all.