Category Archives: competition

Faster. Better. Cheaper.

Little known fact: The US military is the largest supply chain in the world.

My supply chain management education will always color the way I view things.  At times, I wish it didn’t.  In education, I like to believe that most students will find their way, eventually.  Most will find their purpose.  I feel for those who don’t, but it is a reality of life.  There are always those who remain lost, and sadly, I’ve known a few.  I can help, but I can’t be everything to everyone.

With supply chain issues, there is a solution.  There is always a solution.  We just need the resolve to follow through and make necessary changes.  We learned so many supply chain and economic lessons from the Greatest Generation and World War II, but as that generation passed away, I fear that we have lost those lessons or even ignored them completely.

Let me start at the beginning.  I am deeply proud to come from a long line of entrepreneurs.  I long idolized my dad and Grandpa Buttrick.  Both owned and ran their own companies and were self-employed, as different as their companies were and still are.  My dad developed Russell Canoe Livery around our family and our lifestyle.  He had no desire to build it beyond what it is now, even if we had the opportunity.  

Grandpa, on the other hand, loved to build.  He expanded his convenience store business into screen printing, Subway franchises, propane, hotels, and more.  He even loved to compete against himself from time to time.  As a child who loved to build, I took notice.  In having the opportunity to manage one of his convenience stores for a few years, I am grateful to have learned just why Grandpa loved the c-store business so much.  Ultimately, it helped me become a better manager at the canoe livery and a more empathetic boss.

While this cover is exactly how I remember it, it must be an updated version!
No WI-Fi in the 80s and 90s!

As a child, one of the most fascinating books I owned was The Way Things Work by David Macaulay.  I wanted to know how and why things worked.  Looking back, this helps explain why I chose supply chain.  It fit the bill.  I knew I didn’t want to study management.  I wanted to know exactly how value was added, and not just become increasingly removed from day-to-day operations that actually pay the bills.  Accounting and finance never even entered the picture.  In fact, my mom and I joke that we would starve if we had to try and make a living as accountants.  I am decent at math, but I make errors far too often, and it is not my thing.

I do have two older cousins who earned supply chain degrees from Michigan State and blazed the trail, but as my older cousin Emily tried to sell me on supply chain, it made me look at the program more critically.  Instead, my experiences at the Broad Business Student Camp (BBSC) after my junior year of high school sold me on Michigan State and supply chain management.  During that week attending BBSC, I had the opportunity to explore State’s incomparable campus, everything the Eli Broad College of Business had to offer, as well as all things supply chain.  In short, I had the opportunity to preview what my life would be like as a Michigan State business student with one of my best friends.  What was not to like?  By the time my parents dropped me off at MSU in August of 1999, I had to kick them out of my dorm room as I had already connected with student groups in the business school, and I was not going to be late for the first meeting.

Now you know why I never wavered in my pursuit of my supply chain degree, in spite of the fact that, deep down, I knew that I wanted to be a teacher as well.  As for the deeper lessons that stayed with me and kept me up at night, it all started with a business history class I took during the winter of 2000, the very heights of the dot.com bubble.  In fact, the bubble burst that consumed that spring forced me to pay attention.  My history professor, in fact, predicted the fall of the stock market (the dot.com bubble) publicly almost as soon as classes started in January.  When it finally happened in March, as a 19 year old, it left a deep impression.  However, as memorable as that experience was, this is not primarily why I remember this class 25 years later.

Instead, my professor’s description and explanation of how Detroit became the “arsenal of democracy” still sends shivers down my spine.  He made the case that the United States and the Allies would not have won World War II without Detroit.  While I knew Detroit played an important part in the war, I didn’t realize just how important.  Supposedly, when Hitler received intelligence of manufacturing totals coming out of Detroit, he didn’t believe it.  Those who had gained manufacturing experience in cities like Detroit, especially Detroit, would turn their focus to the war effort.

When you think of the manufacturing capability we had during that time, the early 20th century, it makes sense. We were able to help supply Great Britain long before we officially entered the war after Pearl Harbor.  Thanks to FDR, we switched from manufacturing consumer goods to munitions.  We went from cars and refrigerators to tanks and aircraft.  This is the question that keeps me up at night:  Would we be able to do so again if faced with such a crisis?  I don’t know.

Actually, I doubt it, as the way things are now.  Born at the end of 1980, I’ve watched my entire life as Michigan lived up to its “rust belt” image.  Most of the business professionals I graduated with in 2004, me included, had to relocate to states such as Texas and California to find jobs.  When my parents graduated from college in the late 70s, there were still good manufacturing jobs to be had right out of high school, although that would soon come to an end.  I grew up hearing of plant closures, manufacturing outsourcing, and general loss of manufacturing capability in the United States.  It is all I knew. By the time I sought to start my career, little remained.  Instead, less secure positions with multinationals outsourcing much of their labor to places like China, Mexico, and India took their place, particularly in the shadow of the first dot.com bust.

By the time I interned with IBM out in Rochester, Minnesota during the summer of 2001, not only did they not have enough for their interns to do, their full-time, permanent employees didn’t either.  Instead, they were focusing on their garage bands and updating their resumes.  In 2003, as part of a tour of a GM factory in Mexico near the border, I vividly remember seeing rows upon rows upon rows of brand new Pontiac Azteks and Buick Rendezvous awaiting shipment as our chartered bus slowly approached the plant.  Looking back, it foreshadowed Pontiacs epic downfall several years later. Tragically, Pontiac would never recover from the monstrosity that was the Pontiac Aztek.

My last semester at Michigan State in 2004 brought the Eli Broad College of Business’s first Chinese Supply Chain Symposium.  Of course, it focused on all of the wonderful benefits of outsourcing manufacturing to China.  I left wondering if I was the only one asking just how long before we were outsourcing our own jobs?  Where and when would it end?  Was I the only one seeing the connection between outsourcing and both unemployment and underemployment in the United States?

Even Russell Canoe Livery has a supply chain,
one with its own set of challenges and setbacks.

I will leave you with this summary.  We desperately need to bring manufacturing back to this country.  If you think the supply chain interruptions during the COVID 19 pandemic were bad (and I followed them closely), what would happen in the case of an even worse global crisis?  Good manufacturing jobs helped finance the growth of the middle class throughout most of the 20th century, particularly after World War II.  Why can’t we get back there?  We’ve learned so much during that time, and we have the workforce, if given a chance.  I hope I live to see it.  By the way, this doesn’t mean becoming isolationist.  It is simply expanding beyond the pharmaceutical, technology, and service industries.  Supporting local farms wouldn’t hurt either!  Cheap is good, but it is not always best in the long-run.  We’ve remained far too short-sighted and complacent for far too long.

Mom, Dad, and I – Spring 2001
Tower Guard Induction – Beaumont Tower, Michigan State University
In honor of Grandma Reid, who worked as a riveter in both Hamtramck, MI and Fort Worth, TX during the World War II era, all before the age of 20.

For the Love of Baseball

The post was originally published on an earlier version of my blog.  I’ve slightly updated and modified the post.  Anything in bold I added to the original post.  Tigers’ opening day is April 5th at Comerica Park!  GO Tigers!

I’ve tried writing this post several times over the last several years.  Sometimes there is so much to say, no mere words can do the subject justice.  Somewhere along the line, somewhere between childhood and adulthood, I forgot what baseball once meant to me.  I also forgot just how intertwined baseball is with some of my favorite childhood memories.

Back in 2012, it all started with me getting the crazy idea that my baseball obsessed ex-boyfriend Brian and I should watch the Ken Burns’ documentary Baseball – all almost 20 hours of it.  I checked it out from the library sometime early in September 2012.  Brian and I then spent the next couple of weeks watching the entire documentary, including great interviews with Bob Costas, Yogi Berra, and Rachel Robinson, the widow of Jackie Robinson, among others.

For me, the most memorable part of the series had to be the clip of Bob Costas discussing his first experience at Yankee Stadium with his father.  As a young child, he was awed by the sheer size of the stadium and the size of the pitching mound.  After the game, fans back then could cross the field to a second exit.  As Bob Costas and his father crossed the field, he became very upset.  He loved baseball so much that somewhere during his childhood, he got the idea that Yankee greats such as Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig were buried on the field.  He didn’t want to disturb what he believed to be their graves.  The stories of baseball memories bringing together fathers and sons, as well as fathers and daughters, stayed with me.

Mom, Dad, and I ~ 1983

Dad sporting his lucky #3 hat.
Some of my earliest memories are of watching the Detroit Tigers on TV with my dad.

I found myself asking why baseball is so different from football, hockey, or basketball.  I’m not sure, but I do know this:  there is something about baseball that transcends time.  I have memories of watching the Red Wings win the Stanley Cup in 1996 and 1997 with Dad, as well as countless other games, but my most powerful memories all relate to baseball.

Many of my earliest memories of Dad involve baseball.  As a very young child, I remember watching the Detroit Tigers with Dad and eating Schwann’s black cherry ice cream.  Somehow, Dad ended up attending one of the 1984 World Series games at Tiger Stadium.  At that game, he bought a signed baseball that sat on the roll-top desk in his office for years.  In fact, it might still be there.  I loved that baseball and thought that it was amazing that Dad attended one of the World Series games.  I also remember rummaging through the top drawer of Dad’s desk and coming across his father’s Masonic ring.  In the eyes of a young girl, the Masonic symbol was a baseball diamond.  Above all, there were the games.

My youngest nephew, Owen, sporting lucky #3 and keeping the tradition alive, even if it is his basketball jersey. Dad always seemed to end up as #3.

Throughout my early childhood, Dad, a former high school athlete who played football, basketball, and baseball, played on a men’s softball team.  As a preschooler, I loved watching Dad play ball.  I liked the entire experience.  I was so proud to have Dad out there in his lucky #3 baseball hat with his well-worn glove.  I loved watching him bat.

Of course, it wasn’t just about baseball.  I also loved playing in the dirt next to the dugout, running around the poker straight pine trees behind the dugout, and playing with the old-fashioned water pump between the dugout and the pines.  More than anything, I loved going to the bar with everyone after the games.  As Dad and his friends, along with their wives and girlfriends, drank pitchers of beer and talked, I played pinball, foosball, Pac Man, and enjoyed pop and chips.  It is no wonder I could relate to adults well as a child.  I spent a lot of time around adults and enjoyed every minute of it.

I also loved spending time at my grandparents’ house.  A trip to my dad’s parents’ home wouldn’t be complete without spending time with their neighbor’s son, Brian K.  We were the same age, and he happened to have something I wanted desperately as a child, a tree house!  I vividly remember one afternoon spent playing in his tree house.  His dog somehow came off his lead, and I became scared as I really didn’t know his dog.  Brian K. told me to hang out in the tree house until he chained up the dog.

That day, his mom invited me to attend one of Brian K.’s Little League game with his family – a big deal in the eyes of a six year-old!  I felt honored to be sitting on the sidelines cheering on Brian K. along with his parents.  At the time, of course, I wanted to be out there on the field too.  While I did play softball for one season at age 11, I am no athlete.  Grandpa Reid, who loved to watch me play, insisted he never saw anyone walk more than I did.  As I’ve always been exceedingly short, no one ever learned how to pitch to me.  Instead, I collected baseball cards.

I’m not exactly sure when and why I started collecting baseball cards, but my favorite will always be the Topps 1987 wood grain cards.  They remind me of Grandpa B.  My maternal great-grandparents owned a cottage on Sage Lake in northern Michigan.  I spent many summer weekends there with my parents, my siblings, my grandparents, and much of my extended family.  At the cottage, Grandpa loved to get all of us grandkids, all girls at the time, in his station wagon to take us to the pop shop.  He let us pick out whatever we wanted.  I picked out baseball cards to add to my collection, mainly ’87 Topps.  I still have my baseball card collection and fond memories of Grandpa asking me if I was sure that is what I wanted.

I loved everything about collecting baseball cards:  organizing them by team, deciding which packs of cards to purchase, and looking up prices. All fun!  It is fitting that I lost interest in collecting cards as I became a teenager.  My last full set dates to the strike-shortened 1994 season.  Around that time, I lost interest in baseball.  Coincidentally, it is also the same year the local IGA, my favorite place to purchase cards, closed.

That same year, Dad took Erica, Garrett, and me to a Tigers game at Tiger Stadium on the corner of Michigan and Trumbull.  That day happened to be Little League Day.  My Dad knew this, so he had my sister wear her softball shirt, my brother his t-ball shirt and hat, and me my old softball shirt.  As a result, we had the opportunity to go out onto the field before the game.  I’ll never forget looking back at the stands of old Tiger Stadium from the field.  I’m grateful to Dad for ensuring his kids had that experience.  There is nothing better than going to a baseball game with your dad.  Having the opportunity to get out on the field of a historic stadium made it that much better.  Somehow I lost interest in the game, but it is still there, was always there, waiting to be rediscovered.

I’m looking forward to cheering on the two below this spring!

Ernie Harwell ~ The voice of Tigers’ Baseball for decades, narrating many summer road trips, especially with Grandma Reid.

The Competitive Edge

test

There is something bothering me in the text of one of my textbooks this semester.  While this particular book doesn’t necessarily suggest that teachers work to try to reduce competition in the classroom, the book explains that that idea is out there.  In many ways, I couldn’t disagree with that idea more.  As competitive as school can be on all levels, I think we get it all wrong as it is now.  At the same time, making high school less competitive is a good recipe for failure.

Let me explain.  Increasingly it seems as though we as a society are intolerant of people who do not fit certain molds.  We expect everyone to perform academically at such a level that they will be well prepared for college.  I keep coming back to the idea that college isn’t for everyone.  I’m not saying that most people aren’t capable of completing the work; I’m saying that not everyone is a good fit.  Instead of trying to force everyone into a certain mold, maybe we can help people, particularly teenagers, figure what their strengths are and what they enjoy doing.  What is wrong with someone pursuing an education at a trade school if that is what he or she enjoys doing?  It isn’t that I don’t believe that everyone needs some type of formal training and/or education after high school.  I do.  It is an economic reality.  What I don’t agree with is trying to get everyone to fit one version of life after high school:  the traditional four year college degree.  Instead, I believe students need more help and support figuring out what they want to do upon graduation, whether or not they decide to pursue a college education.  Students who would rather do physical work or pursue something other than academics should be supported as much as students who can’t get to college soon enough.

What saddens me is that there are only narrow definitions of success in most high schools.  Either you succeed academically or athletically.  If you are extremely talented, you might succeed at both.  What about the students who like to build?  The students who are artistic?  What about the students who like to create?  It may not always be the case, but it does not seem as though their achievements are celebrated enough at most schools.

At many high schools, sport dominate.  That is all fine and good.  Sports are great for the students who are talented enough to compete.  What about the majority of students who can’t compete at that level?  What is out there?  The answer in many cases is nothing.  For example, I have no athletic ability whatsoever.  That doesn’t mean I dislike sports.  I know that I am not alone.  I’m not sure where I came across the idea, but what would be wrong with organized, non-competitive sports too?  In essence, a high school version of the college intramural system.  When I first came across that statement about how high school is too competitive, high school sports came to mind immediately.  Students who aren’t athletically gifted need opportunities to develop physical talents too, outside of a required general gym class.  There should be room for both competitive and non-competitive sports.

My larger point is simply this:  We all need to recognize that all individuals have their own unique strengths and weaknesses.  We can’t expect perfection out of everyone.  At the same time, natural talents need to be encouraged, developed.  Students need some type of competition.  College admissions are more competitive than ever.  No matter what opportunities students pursue after graduation, they will face competition.

society