The Humanity of Low Cost Sourcing
Seventeen years ago, I was sent by my former employer on an international assignment to a manufacturing plant in the Philippines as a “Materials Manager.” It was a relatively new factory, and the average age of the shopfloor operators was 23 years old. Shortly after my arrival, the management team to which I belonged was tasked to deploy a corporate “World Class Manufacturing Program” to all factory workers and local suppliers. The program’s objective was to elevate the productivity and quality of the operations and, in so doing, make its products able to compete in demanding markets such as Singapore, Australia, and New Zealand.
It was a great idea. The program had a rich theoretical basis, employing cutting-edge concepts one might spend thousands of dollars for at university, and a corresponding practical structure, using the latest technologies.
Still, after a few months, the ambitious program didn’t seem to yield any of the intended results. We didn’t see a positive shift in quality or productivity metrics despite following all the training guidelines. I felt the trainees lacked interest. They didn’t seem to understand what excellence meant. Average results seemed good enough for them. At the time I wondered, don’t they realize the incredible benefits that exporting at a large volume would bring to their country’s economy? The rest of my colleagues on the management team seemed to feel the same way. It did indeed seem like the training was going to be a waste of resources.
Recognizing this, one of our senior mentors at that time, a Filipino himself and one of the most empathic and down-to-earth senior executives I have ever met, called all the team members in charge of deploying the program into a meeting. I expected this was going to be a difficult and unpleasant discussion about how our failure on implemented this program impacted the business negatively. Instead, the conversation was rather serene and went something like this:
The mentor began with a question: “Do you know where Olongapo is?”
For those of you reading this article who may not know, Olongapo is a city in the Central Luzon Region of the Philippines, about 150 kilometres from the country’s capital, not too different from many other cities outside the Metro Manila Area. Many of our shopfloor operators grew up in such cities, in the realities that existed approximately 40 years ago, and moved near the industrial regions of the capital after finishing school, hoping to find work and start supporting their families back home.
Some of my colleagues knew where Olongapo is located, and although no one understood where this question was going to take us, a few muttered a hesitant yes.
Then our mentor said: “Many of our shop floor operators come from Olongapo and similar places around our country. The name of the city is not relevant at all, but what is curious is that when you ask any of them what time the bus passes by their city, they probably won’t understand your question.”
Then he paused and looked at us inquisitively. I could tell that none of us grasped the reason why he was saying this. Was he about to tell us what a bunch of lucky brats we had all been, growing up with a family car in our homes?
“You see,” he continued, “our workers grew up knowing that the bus will come, maybe at some point in the morning and then at some point in the afternoon; some days it may be late enough for everyone to realize that it is late or other days it might not come at all, and no explanations will be given. People will go about their lives and will make alternate plans to get to where they need to be or will not arrive at all. Never in their lives have they been told that there should be a fixed time for the bus to arrive at their stop or how much more efficient life would be if it did. The same is true for so many other aspects of their lives, growing up in a so-called developing country.”
Warming to his theme, he went on: “And here you are trying to teach them about world-class manufacturing when they still don’t understand why the production line has to start at 7:15 am and not a minute later. They can’t care deeply about something they don’t understand. Their mindset has been conditioned by their lives; our country’s realities have had an enormous impact on their thinking. It is your job to shed light on the path going from what they know to what you believe they can be.”
Is that not the job of an educator or a trainer? Do they not try to guide and inspire you to adopt practices and a mindset so that you can be and do better? Our mentor was reminding us of something absolutely essential: due to the fact that we are human, each of us develops. Our Filipino workers were developing just as every so-called developing country does.
The mentor closed with an important qualification: “Don’t preach,” he said. “Help them discover.”
He didn’t need to add much more. And I felt profoundly ashamed for having lost sight of this basic human fact. When I looked at those workers I only saw them as individuals who had collectively failed to understand basic ideas and perform simple tasks, tasks that other people in other places had no trouble completing. How incomplete was my logic! The rest of my colleagues felt the same way.
Fueled by our collective embarrassment and our determination not to fail, we redesigned our strategy to include more conversations, more listening, and more small group and individual coaching. We adjusted our training methods to fit the needs of our audience, and it was an astonishing success! With the proper listening, understanding, communication and coaching, our Filipino workers at that factory proved to be one of the most dynamic, adaptable, enthusiastic, world-class efficient team I have ever encountered in all my years in manufacturing.
Without a doubt, they had it in them all along.
Much later, I heard a quote from Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen that goes like this: “The places in which we are seen and heard are holy places.” They remind us of our value as human beings. They give us the strength to go on.” This quote reminded me of my experience back in the Philippines.
It really is amazing what you can achieve when you are heard and seen.
Since then, in my role in supplier development and relationship management, I have sought to see the realities of others with curious, constructive, and compassionate eyes; I have simultaneously aimed to consider these realities when I negotiated and implemented business contracts, policies, standards and procedures. And I believe any supplier out there has the potential to be a really great supplier.
To put it briefly, that experience in the Philippines was a rare gift. It helped me realize that I, too, am shaped by the realities that have surrounded me since birth in ways that I have yet to discover. It made me question my assumptions, enabling me to see and feel and listen much more carefully, broadening my perspective.
Our world seems to get smaller every day. The latest technology enables us to communicate online from anywhere to anywhere by text, voice or video. These are indeed valuable tools. But in the world of sourcing goods, where the vast majority come from the other side of the world, it is perhaps more important than ever to remember to listen to the human voices coming to us from the other side of the screen. Their lived realities and the challenges they face are different and unique. See them, hear them.
Salamat po Philippines.
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