Why the mistrust on both sides? What did go wrong at Graley Autobody? Here was a business that had been a good place to work, that was more progressive than most, that attracted and held on to its workers for years. Overall, goodwill had prevailed.
Ask Jim what he thinks went wrong, and he answers almost sheepishly, "Maybe I tried too hard." And in a way he may be right. To dare to transform a company from a back-alley business to a state-of-the-art industry leader calls for an against-all-odds drive, commitment, and dedication. But few, including Jim Graley, are prepared for how messy change can be.
Bringing about change is an unpredictable, time-consuming process. It's ongoing. It won't step aside when a CEO needs a breather to run the business, to recoup the investment in fancy equipment, to make a profit. However noble one's dream, the route is filled with unexpected land mines. Not least of those is dealing with the fears, concerns, and even gripes of the employees charged with carrying out the dream. For what feels well intentioned and morale boosting from the top can emerge as autocratic and insensitive to those at the bottom.
And when good communication is critical to the process, all-too-human feelings can get in the way. With the advantage of hindsight Jim says, "I can appreciate the employees' resistance." They had, after all, had years of experience at Graley Autobody and had been used to a certain way of working. Habits are not easy to change. But Jim says that his employees' reactions still sting: "What I can't tolerate are the personal digs." A few minutes later he offers a comparison sure to make his pain a little clearer. Their lack of trust, he says, was "like finding out my wife is cheating on me."
At this moment in time, it's still hard to say whether Graley's earlier vision will come to pass. It's already been seven years in the making. Jim still believes -- even in 1992, after upping the advertising budget from 2% to almost 5% of sales -- that "our ad presence not only attracts customers but makes the workers proud." To the contrary, says a current employee, who wishes to remain anonymous, "We run ads saying we're the best shop in the East, but we're not treated like we're working for the best shop in the East." All we hear, he says, is criticism "when we screw up." Far from taking pride in the advertising, he says it "reminds me that we're the ones who have to live up to the promise" made on the radio and in billboards every day. "Sometimes Jim doesn't realize how hard we work to keep his promise," says the employee, who adds that he thinks Jim's trying to run a good shop.
And there has been some progress. Although he's given up on profit sharing for now, Jim is offering the workers who've remained and the new hires the chance to share in the profits gained from reducing a portion of the shop's waste. In an average month, he says, he puts aside $1,000 toward new and better facilities for his employees. Company sales remain at around $1.3 million; operating profits hover at around 40%, which puts Graley's in the top 25% of body shops in the United States, according to one industry expert.
Still, Jim Graley says, there are days when it all looks pretty bleak. "Don and I sit down on the curb, look into the gutter, and all I want to do is get up, walk down the sidewalk, and never come back." But in another breath, he pledges, "If I survive this mess, this will be a different company."
* * *
IN THE SAME BOAT
Pat Lancaster doesn't know Jim Graley or his company. Lancaster is in an entirely different sort of business -- a $50-million manufacturing company. But he empathizes with Jim's tale, for he's been through it himself. "If I had known how painful this change would be, I probably wouldn't have done it," Lancaster says now. And he knows he's not alone: through an entrepreneurial network, Lancaster knows the
founders of a dental-supply company, a food-additive manufacturer, and a mining-equipment distributor who've all confronted variations on Jim's story.
Lancaster began the shift to a quality workplace six years ago and is just beginning to see positive results. Three years into the move -- after instituting quality teams, company retreats, and a companywide restructuring -- Lancaster was shocked at how little had actually changed and, more hurtful, how little his employees trusted him. He says he got a close-up glimpse of how bad things were when he filled in for one of his managers. Poking around to find out what minor gripes might be festering, he asked team members to tell him about the time they'd been the angriest in the last six months. What came back was a firestorm.
"I stopped caring about this company six months ago," one worker belted. "All you care about is speed here." "You treat me like a piece of meat," accused another. Barked a third, "Who cares about signs plastered on the wall saying 'Quality Is Our Bridge to Customer Satisfaction' when I can't even get proper lighting to do my job?"
It was personal. It hurt. "By the end of the session I was in tears," Lancaster recalls. He says the meeting taught him one simple lesson. "If you tell an employee you're going to give him ice cream, then you decide when to dole out the cones and what flavor, even an ice-cream lover is going to say, 'Yuck.' "
