Stu snorted. “Going from three shifts a day to two? Laying off half the workforce in the last few years? Seeing our production fall? Do you really believe they think we’re just kidding?”
A light was starting to go on for me, though admittedly it was a bit dim. “Stu, you’re saying that we and the union both want the same thing, or at least we want to avoid the same thing, but people aren’t acting that way?”
Stu shrugged. “I’m not saying I can explain it, but think about it. We seem to be trapped in a pattern that’s taking us down the wrong road, even though no one wants to go there. And I don’t mean just with the union. I mean with everything from our sales program to our management systems to how we deal with safety. We run around whacking moles, not seeing that we’re actually whacking each other in the process.”
“That reminds me of a story,” said Luigi.
Everyone groaned. “Please tell me there are no moles or bicycles involved,” begged Alice.
Luigi smiled. “No, but there are more animals. I’m serious, this is a good one.” Luigi clapped his hands together and rubbed them, like he was warming up to perform a delicate operation or defuse a bomb. Or perhaps just to bomb. “There’s this little frog: he’s sitting by the side of a river, minding his own business. Suddenly a scorpion appears on the riverbank and comes crawling down toward the frog. The frog isn’t worried, because scorpions don’t eat frogs, but he’s a little cautious. He knows the scorpion has a deadly stinger on its tail. So Froggy does a little hop right to the edge of the river and gets ready to go for a swim in case the scorpion starts to get crazy.
“But the scorpion calls out, ‘Hey, Frog, wait! I’m not looking to sting you. I need a favor.’ The frog is puzzled. ‘Whaddaya mean?’ he asks. ‘What kind of favor?’ The scorpion scuttles closer. ‘A ride,’ says the scorpion. ‘My mother’s sick, and she lives across the river. I can’t swim. I need you to give me a ride on your back over to the other side.’ ”
“Wait a minute,” said Alice. “If the scorpion can’t swim, how could he end up on the opposite side of the river from his mother?” I was surprised it had taken this long for someone from the team to interrupt Luigi.
Alice continued to impress with her insights. “Maybe the story takes place in springtime, and the river is flooding. The scorpion moved out the previous summer, when the riverbed was dry.” I started to wonder whether my team was the real problem.
Luigi was undeterred, having spent much of the last ten years dealing with these people. “Whatever. Let’s not worry about that, because it doesn’t really matter to our story, OK? So the scorpion asks the frog for a ride across the river. The frog shakes his head. ‘Uh-uh,’ he says. ‘I’m not letting you get on my back. What’s to stop you from stinging me?’
“The scorpion says, ‘Look, Frog, I have no reason to sting you. I don’t eat frogs. Plus, just think about it. I can’t swim. We’re halfway across the river, I sting you, what happens? We both die. Of course I’m not going to sting you.’ The frog sees the logic in this and agrees to take the scorpion on his back.”
“I can see where this is going,” said Amanda.
Luigi ignored her. “So the scorpion jumps on the frog’s back, and the frog starts swimming across the river. They get halfway across, and all of a sudden the frog feels a sharp pain in his back. ‘What the hell?’ says the frog. ‘You stung me! Now we’re both going to die! Why would you do that?’ The scorpion shrugs —” Luigi held up his hand. “And before you tell me that scorpions don’t have shoulders, I mean that figuratively. The scorpion shrugs and says, ‘I can’t help it. It’s my nature.’ ”
I broke the silence after a moment. “I hate to admit it, but there’s something about that story that rings true.”
Amanda was nodding. “I hate to admit it even more than you do, Will, but I agree. Even though it makes no sense, even though the end result is bad for both of them, the scorpion still goes ahead and does it.”
Leslie added, “It’s also important that even though the frog knows it’s a bad idea to carry the scorpion, he listens to logic and does it. And then dies.”
Sheila spoke up. “So, what? We’re not supposed to do any favors for anyone? Being nice gets you killed? What? I don’t get it.”
“Or,” I said, “is the lesson that you can’t change someone’s nature? That scorpions sting, it’s what they do, and there’s no point in pretending any different?” I paused. “I don’t see how that can be the moral of the story. We deal with difficult situations all the time. Nothing is truly hopeless. There are always ways around it.”
“Yeah,” said Mark, “but maybe the story means you can’t take the obvious path. We’re saying that we’re the frog and the union is the scorpion, and they’re stinging us even though they know they’re sinking the company.”
Stu frowned. “To be fair, I don’t think you can say we’re the frog. I think the union guys would say we’re the scorpion.”
Everyone started to talk at once, which confirmed for me that both mole whacking and the frog and scorpion saga were striking a nerve. As the babble continued, I went to the whiteboard and wrote down two things:
1. What is our mole infestation?
2. What does the scorpion’s nature have to do with all of this?
I tapped the board to get everyone’s attention.
“Here’s where we are, people, and I have to say, we’ve made some progress.” I pointed to the first question. “We know we have to take a step back, stop whacking at moles. Otherwise more will just keep popping up, and we’ll get nowhere. We have to figure out what our mole problem represents, and then we have to find a solution that wipes out the moles entirely. Or at least one that leads to a major die-off.” I tapped the second item. “At the same time, we have to figure out the scorpion’s nature. I know Luigi told the story relative to the union, but my guess is it applies across all the major issues we’ve identified. Our salespeople, our internal performance management system — they are also examples of the scorpion stinging the frog, even though it’s clear to both parties that stinging will sink them both.”
At that moment, Hal Wilson, one of the shop floor supervisors, burst into the conference room. “We’ve got a serious problem,” he said, breathing heavily from his dash down the hall.
“Don’t kill us with suspense,” Stu said. “What is it?”
“Strike,” said Hal. “Well, sort of. The guys on the shop floor just walked out.”
FIVE
Will Consults with the Family
I SAT IN THE living room, staring moodily at the fire. It isn’t a gas fireplace, it’s a real wood burner, and sometimes I imagine that wastefully consuming our diminishing wood supply in a ball of flame helps me to think. That’s how my daughter looks at it, anyway. Which explained the discussion I found myself having instead of doing the thinking I was hoping to do.
“Seriously, Dad,” Sarah was saying. “How can you burn up old-growth forest like that? It’s not like that fireplace is even efficient at producing heat. Not to mention the greenhouse gases you’re creating.”
I hate to admit it, but my kids can really push my buttons if I’m not careful. “Honey,” I said in a level tone, “this is not old-growth forest, and you know it. It’s from our trees out back. An old-growth log wouldn’t even fit in this fireplace.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. Truly, one of the most annoying things in the world is the teenage eye roll. “Whatever, Dad. It’s not going to have a chance to become old-growth now, is it? Fireplaces like ours are wasteful. It’s bad enough that you work at that nasty factory, polluting the world. Why do you have to burn