Blocking And Tackling: Take Your Pick

Tackling not so much, but blocking appears to be all the rage.SCMRs Patrick Burnson took on the topic in the May/June issue, with blockchain taking on the space once dedicated to the wonders of RFID. �The possibility that block chain is coming, or has come, of age is a major contention.

Even though managers have yet to embrace the concept, the forward progress seems to be unstoppable. �The solution promoted by IBM and Maersk for Hyperledger not only identifies supply choke points, Walmart thinks we are on the edge of a legendary Holy�Grail.

Others, notably SCM World's Kevin O'Meara, are more sanguine, seeing a rebirth of RFID hype. �I'm with Kevin, frankly. �A Gartnwe analyst generally agrees, predicting a 90% failure rate for new projects, including those that are already dead.

via blogs.dcvelocity.com

Blocking And Tackling In A Blockchain Universe

Blockchain is getting more than its fair share of PR these days.  The inevitable questions rotate among a few key issues: What is it?  What does it mean?  Hoiw much is fairy dust, and how much is substantive?  Where will it be five years from now?  Is it practical, or cost effective, and will it transform supply chain operating networks?

Blockchain advocates herald its contributionsto a brave new world of transparency and security - and trust - with positive financial impacts of: counterfeit prevention, active shrink (theft) recovery, fraud, insurance protection, and prospectively the emergence of new markets.

Blockchain technology, while it may reconfigure supply chain operating networks (SCON) appears to be limited to retail, especially B2C, appears to be primarily a matter of front-end information sharing, reducing redundancy and establishing a common base of traceability and visibility.  One might ask how such technology application limits differentiation among retail competitors, with the answer developing continually greater focus.  

With Wal-Mart's announcements today regarding a captive blockchain test, the differentiation factor has grown in limitation, it seems.  How does a "tame" blockchain application enhance univbersal access to visibility and tranmsparency.

 

And, if blockchain is primarily limited to retail, how does it benefit other supply chains, and why is it important?   Stay tuned.  The pundits, columnists, and trade journalists will inform us when we are ready to know the how, when, and why of blockchain.

 

 

Mortals And Mortality

Even in today's enlightened environment, buttressed by daily discoveries in science, people continue to fall prey to disease, and die with distressing frequency.  When someone receives a diagnosis of a fatal condition, with a prognosis for imminent demise, there are only a few rational options for moving forward.

The major option is recognition that death is a card rising to the top of the deck.  The major choices are to die quietly; some elect to die less quietly.  The first cohort elicits admiration for acceptance; the second can wear out its welcome relatively soon.

On either path, the aflicted may choose to use his or her situation to educate and comfort others similarly cursed.  In the process, one sub-option is to kep one's head down and continue to work, to do the job at hand as well as it deserves to be done.

The lesson is pretty much the same, no matter what form an affliction takes.  It might be one of the dozens of cancers that visit among us.  (Even the relatively uncommon pancreatic cancer has some three dozen variants.). It might be a cardiac or pulmonary condition for which conventional medications have little beneficial affect.

So, we see all manner of examples of handling the end stages of life.  Craig Sager worked to the end from the basketball sidelines with a form of leukemia.  Patrick Swayze worked at his performing craft, then died.  Some of us work, advocate for fellow-sufferers, and focus on giving back our best work to our chosen field.  Sharon Jones comes to mind.  Randy Pausch devoted his final days to The Last Lecture, and gave pancreatic cancer the focus it had never had previously.  Steve Jobs decided that he was smarter and tougher than his cancer, and defied medical advice.  By the time he got a liver transplant, it was way too late, and the calendar gave Steve a time-out he didn't want to take.  Others have lived and died publicly with HIV/AIDS, or with COPD, or black lung, or various tobacco-induced conditions.

Dealking with reality, a person might be afflicted with ancillary issues as a part of the mortality process.  They can be awkward and/or painful.  Their disposition has to be accepted as a part of the package, particularly as they are far superior to the ultimate end game. The side effects of a fatal condition are significantly less annoying than deathb and dying.

Whatever path one chooses, I'm OK with.  Except for those devoted to searching for a cure, traveling to international destinatiuons to sample procedures or substances not approved in the US - those whose sole interest lies in not dying as a selfish act of individual survival.  No one deserves pain and suffering, of course.  But, if one's last act is to stay in denial, it refelects poorly on values and how others might benefit from an example of grace under pressure.

All this has been focused on the ultimate human condition.  But, the principles apply to home life, to work life, and to how a person handles ultimate separation from a role, a job, a responsibility.

Render Unto Caesar . . .

Promises, promises.  We are now some six weeks past filing our personal income taxes.  For a moment, I contemplated risking relapse and some "me" time in rehab, but am now, in the main, recovered from the shock and awe.

In our "voluntary" system, we fail the tax obligation at our own peril. A promise to pay next week for a hamburger today, channeling Wimpy, is not currency in the IRS realm.  However, politicians of all flavors operate a hand-cranked promise machine, and we are expected to cheerfully consume their perpetual outputs.

Until the recent melee and mudslinging ad hominem attacks from demented and not-quite-bright candidates, political campaigns, for generations,  have been fueled by promises of tax reduction and simplification.  Surely we are nearly out of gas by now - fuel, that is, not the hot air of maladroit office holders and seekers.

One sheet of paper.  File on a postcard.  Lower rates.  Simplification.  VAT.  Flat tax.  Endless promises.  But, none have, to date, come to be remotely true.  Our recourse?  Absolutely nothing.  Both sides are lying through their molars.

The radical change to date, has been a redesigned individual form for 2016.  Same content, fewer lines and renumbered entry boxes.  Wow!  Reckon the IRS hired outside consultants to do that mind-blowing vision?  How long did the transformation take?

But, the potential for change in taxation could go miles beyond tinkering with what little money we have left after bellying up to higher-priced everything in ordinary daily life.

For example, we could become more globally competitive overnight with significantly lower corporate rates.  More jobs, better import/export balance, higher GDP.  Action so far? Zero.  And, wht would happen with incentives to repatriate (for business investment) money (trillions) held offshore?  Seems like it couldn't hurt.

As for import duties, tariffs, whatever we call them, the price structures at the nation's Mal-Marts, Targets, and similar would escalate.  Even modest increases would pinch the finances of the middle and lower classes.  And, big penalties on vehicles could maim or kill entire industry verticals, manufacturers, suppliers, component assemblers and providers.

Reality is that the tax situation(s) resembles Obamacare in complexity and unintended consequences.  Sorting out the details would be complex and time-consuming.

And, we do need to fix individual personal income taxes.  Brackets are too high.  The Medicare/Social Security components are woefully inadequate and perilously ineffective.  Deductions need to be rationalized - but not eliminated. The value of credits and assistance could stand a hard look.

And, the process must be made straightforward.  Dogwalkers should not have to  calculate a potential AMT.

Maybe the time for promises is over.

In our supply chain world, we have to face the impact at the consumer level of higher costs - and prices.  And, contemplate the possibility that omni-channel volumes, on-line, next day/same day delivery could be in free fall with consequences for SCM practitioners.  We also need to extend the notion to recognize that all supply chains will be vulnerable to intractable cost increases, no matter what the CFO has dictated.

Get ready.  Like Eastern Europe a few centuries ago, barbarians are at the gate.

Neither Snow Nor Rain Nor Dark Of Night . . . Nor Bargaining Unit Rules Shall Stay These Couriers . . .

At one point, I felt that local last-mile parcel delivery could be the salvation of the USPS. But, based on personal experience and widespread complaints from a base of Fedex/UPS delivery destinations, I'm not nearly so confident today.

In fact, parcel delivery riddled with flaws could wind up being the undoing of the once-proud federal (now privatized) service.

Here's the deal, as H. Ross Perot used to say. Without knowing the details (also attributed, btw, to Mr. Perot), the United States Postal Service (USPS) makes home deliveries on behalf of B2C shippers, replacing the costly footprint of a redundant national network. In consequence, the mailman (or mail lady, as the case may be) spends an inordinate amount of time cramming slightly-too-large packaging into demonstrably too-small mail boxes during the daily delivery.

Sundays see a flotilla of mail trucks bearing nothing but parcels retracing the carriers' weekday steps.

Obviously, such reliance on a third party cries out for meaningful performance metrics, and measures—useful or accurate being independent variables—are definitely in the USPS wheelhouse. Home or local delivery is a chancy business, to be sure, so allowances must be made for nobody home, no shows, underaged signatorees, rabid dogs, and shady neigborhoods.

What we see in our moderately upscale community is a disproportionate log of tracked shipments showing a status of "delivered," but with no evidence of delivery, such as having the merchandise in hand, for example. As if by magic, the "missing" delivered parcel shows up in the next day's (parcel) mail, a classic maneuver to offload problems—and work—to another shift. But, in the meantime, to the consumer, the shipment appears to be lost. And a razor-thin margin operator is forced by customer service imperatives to send a replacement for something that will show up of its own accord.

The beat goes on … A note indicating attempted delivery is left when the recipient is languishing with a Dos Equis as the Browns shoot themselves in the foot once again. A hostile pet is indicated when the most dangerous animal in the neighborhood is a calico cat.

How much of this nonsense will shippers—and customers—tolerate before entertaining the cost of a captive delivery network? What will it take the USPS to wake up and smell the malingering? How much will it take to fire the non-performers? Can postal workers, once taken on, actually be dismissed for cause? Are today's metrics subject to review and audit? Are fudged measures of performance simply a way to postpone the inevitable?  Will the USPS get stuck with an investment in people and equipment when the parcel carrier(s) fire their sorry behinds? Will we even care by then?

It's time, perhaps even past time, to restore the sense of duty and mission that once characterized the postal service. Or, the end might just be in sight. 

Who Put The Ham In Hamilton?

The high point, so far, in La Diva's young life, has been a girls' weekend in Manhattan, punctuated with the theatre equivalent of end-zone seats at Lin-Manuel Miranda's brilliant hip-hop musical, Hamilton.  With early morning walks in SoHo, this pinnacle of great city life played a siren song, and we carefully guarded knowledge of the local rents, lest La Diva abandon her Broadway dreams.

But, The Kid also treasures singing and dancing, and can be brought to tears by strong acting, so we arranged for a Chicago early weekend to observe the local run, sans Lin-Manuel.  Side note: The Kid forbade La Diva from any further roles that portrayed her in mortal danger, after seeing her in The Diary of Anne Frank.  Speaking plainly, I am partial to Chicago as it is.  Great restaurants, without pretension.  The Cubs.  Da Bearss.  Ditka.  A murder rate that would make Acapulco proud (Thank you, Mayor Rahm).

We experienced some glittering dinners, and did drive-throughs at world-class museums, the bumpy flights separated by a Hamilton that brought us to our knees.

I was later moved to contemplate the musical, the adventures of the Kid and La Diva, and my obsession with goings-on in the magical world of supply chain management.  Two points caught my mental meandering.  One is that I need to relax, and stop wondering why I bother to bring the thunder.

Another is that opportunities will knock at the door daily, or even more often.  While we cannot afford to indulge any and every whim, and certainly should not throw money at every departure from the norm that arrives, full of hope and overflowing with hype, we really owe it to ourselves, our associates, and our enterprises to select what, where, and how much to invest in opportunities.

As with so much, including the targets for our thunder, these apply to life and to work - strange, how often and to what extent they overlap.

The Whole Fam Damily

I am aware that familial references in my personal blogosphere can be confusing.  Hence, a cast listing follows to outline the immediate nuclear cohort.  It's not complicated; there aren't enough of us to be truly mind-boggling.

The Washington State branch has been decimated by the loss of the sole male cousin.  His son is, I think, somewhere in Texas.  The Tucson clan has disappeared, with the only male survivor's state unknown, possibly deceased.  Sad, in many dimensions - connected by fortuitous accident, headed by a renowned music educator, who, with his wife, perished in a house fire.A brother, with one son, is in suburban Chicago, and is recovering from a triple bypass and valve replacement.  A couple of my already departed brother's children (all female) have preserved, for the moment, the family surname.

The woods are full of shirt-tale second somethings thrice removed; none bear the family name, and are completely unconnected with the rest of us.

The van Bodegraven name is quite rare in the US; it has a few adherents in other lands.  In the Mother Country, the name is not common, but is far from rare.  Originally it indicated being from the city or town of Bodegraven, but that distinction has been  inoperative for countless generations.  Our immediate family emigrated from North Holland.

Bodegraven itself is a large town or small city of some limited charms, located  south of Amsterdam, and some eight or nine kilometers outside of Gouda.  A cheese market of some import in local history, one imagines that selling a so-named cheese would pose a marketing nightmare.

Our immediate gang all live in or near Columbus, Ohio, although some have enjoyed stops in Detroit, Miami, Mexico City, and Kalamazoo..

Son David is an ambitious, engaged, organized leader who has devoted himself to serving others, improving service processes, and leveraging subordinates to elevate service and satisfaction.  His partner, Nurse Andrew, is a brilliant and comitted psychiatric health care service provider.  Both are active in combating substance abuse and aiding those afficted.  Their companions are Libby, a rescue, and OB, a family favorite.

Son Jonathan is a human dynamo, a sourcing and procurement maven for leading major corporations in a variety of industry verticals.  His wife, a Colombiana native now a passionate US citizen, brought one son into the marriage (Nicolas Alarcon Contreras), and together they are the parents of Los Colombianos, (Donovan Mateo and Aiden Gabriel, ages 10 and 8), who are extremely bright and engaged.

Daughter Elizabeth (Fierce Betty) is a gifted and high-motor executive in the supply chain world; she has retained the family name.  Her significant other, Tom  Daniels (Uncle Slick, The Engineer)  is an amazingly talented installer, fixer, maintainer, redesigner who routinely creates production facilities that produce more than they are conventionally capable of, with associates who are untrained and ill-prepared to do so.  He is also a master of smoking and grilling, with exotic meats a specialty.  They have a purebred bulldog, Toro, who, missing several teeth and critical reproductive equipment, still harbors delusions of seductive capabilities.

Daughter Julie (uber-Mom) works from home, in addition to doing all the cooking, cleaning, chauffering, scheduling, and other traditional Mom tasks.  She is currently beefing up the content and processes used in a fabulously successful life coaching corporation.  Husband Steve owns a cleaning and restoration operation in support of mitigating fire and water damage for insurance companies.  They are the parents of Ryan (The Kid), Jessica (La Diva) and Dillon Sheehy, a recent Florida State graduate.  Their rescue, Baby, is fiercely protective.

Phyllis, mijn vrouw, is the rock that gives all of us a place to hang on to, and the glue that integrates the activities of kids and grandkids - and keeps me from driving off the metaphorical edsge of life's cliff.  Superbly talented in many dimensions, she is both trained and intuitive in health care diagnosis and care, a fearless cook, and a marvel of organization and logical approaches to life.

A family member without a surname is Penny, our rescue Cardigan Corgi mix with a mind of her own.

 A minor player of limited capacity or interest is uber-Mom's first husband, who has a different - Irish - family name and is responsible for a terrific grandson as well as for spectacular misadventures.  The grandson's significant other is the gorgeous, talented, creative, clever, and sensible Mari, and they are momentarily within Austin City Limits.  No help on perpeuating the name, but great young people nevertheless.

So, that's it.  These are the van Bodegravens, all of them.  We could hold a family reunion in a van or camper.  And, they all populate the art of Art blog.

Renault Schools The Modern Supply Chain

What, you may rightly ask, does a long-dead creator of questionable automobiles have to say to us as a new century stands on the cusp of maturity?

Louis Renault was a genius. At first, and at an absurdly young age, he was a dabbler, a dilettante with interests in chemistry, electricity, mechanics, and sundry impossibilities. He settled on engines and automobiles.

An early blow, failure in his school entrance exams, was softened by the family fortune.

As the practical performance of autos was demonstrated, and a radical transmission evolved, racing was the next mountain to scale. Two dead brothers later, racing remained the catalyst for growth, and Louis was alone.

Atop a colossus, Renault could not share power with anyone, and suffered devastating work strikes. In 1940, he agreed to work with the conquering Nazis.

When the Germans decamped Paris, Louis was arrested and died in prison.

A one-man business to a national corporation. A name to live on in memory. A curious old man buried in a Paris cemetery. Alone.

Take from that the importance of building a team to carry on, the importance of collaboration for success, the power of focus, the potential of thinking outside the (gear)box, and the dangers of not staying true to core values.

Then contemplate an end alone.

Judging Books By Tattered Covers

I may have recounted The Kid's earnest plea upon encountering Fierce (Aunt) Betty and Uncle Slick's decrepit bulldog, the Latino Lothario, Toro.  Overcome, The Kid whispered, "Please don't eat me, Uncle Toro!"

Toro, our little Penny's hopeful, if mutilated, paramour was, to The Kid, just another Uncle.  Somewhat raggedy, Toro was missing some patches of hair, and had fewer remaining teeth than the average West Virginian.  He would occasionally topple over, as well.

But, during our latest cold snap, Toro, sapped of will and desperate, snagged his blanket with a remaining tooth, and dragged his chenille scrap over toward the fire.

In short and in sum, our Toro was a rumbling, stumbling contradiction.  Clumsy, and apparently a bit dim, he was smart enough to get warm.

The takeaway: don't underestimate a dog dressed in his underdrawers, the canine equivalent of a union suit.  This applies to working colleagues, neighbors, your kid's friends, and people with drawls.

btw, a childhood friend's first wife was/is the creative and nurturing force behind Denver's legendary Tattered Cover independent bookstore, rising above and beyond the strictures of a Purdue education.

Don't judge, lest ye be judged . . .

When Synapses Mis-Fire

I don't know if it is bad wiring, a genetic defect, or sunspots, but the ol' brainpan seems to be, without warning, thown off course by apparently random browmnouts and power surges.  The following are a few of those "who left the gate open" thoughts that wander in with neither permission nor purpose, in no particular sequence or priority, and no relationship with other blog posts.

"We are all dying."  

Of course we are, just at different rates.  To complicate the planning process, we have no clue regarding the timing of the end game - when, how long, with what accompanying features.  So, the notion that we should live each moment as if it were our last gains credence.  In the greater scheme, it seems, with all the uncertainty, that we should have and execute, as best we can, a plan to make a mark, leave an impression, elevate those around us, and contribute to organizational well-being.  Our associates deserve it, the enterprise may or may not be deserving, but its health benefits others, and we ought to enjoy - treasure - the satisfaction, the peace of mind, that comes from deliberately making a difference.  And our efforts should extend, first to family, then to random strangers.  

Life while dying can be good, if we let it be so.

"Freedom is a mental state."  

We are not truly free, whether physically constrained or not, until and unless, our minds are free to wander pristine corridors to unknown destinations.  Further, it is a decision, a position staked out by the mind, as to whether we can rise above, can remain human in the face of, any physical deprivation.

Coupled with the 1st Amendment, that means we are free to be paranoid or schizophrenic - or both.  Or neither.  Nurse Andrew reminds us that genuine and authentic people whom society deems to be "menatlly ill", can be interesting, engaging, amusing, and worthy of respect and recognition.  Of course, if that freedom creates an annoying kook, we get to make our own rules of engagement.

And, so it goes.

"Don't water the weeds."

Advice from a business guru that sounds good until examined in a strong light.  True, one does not want to lavish attention and resources on dim stars while permitting benign neglect of the super-novas that illuminate an organizations potential and performance.  But, as leaders, we most often inherit a mixed garden of roses and weeds, with the occasional hollyhock thrown in.

"Profitability first."

Cementing its position as a failed icon, whose past glories no longer justify its arrogance, struggling GM has sold its European brands.  Vauxhall and Opel have thrown a golden egg onto the profit plate.  The golden goose is not visible, and its capacity to produce more eggs that get eaten up to satisfy persistent hungers is questionable.

These latest strategic moves, generating a one-time cash infusion, cap 16 years of losses in Europe. Slow learners?  Further, the once world-leading transport corporation, already fallen to #3 globally, will fall even farther, as Peugeot goes ion the rise. Peugeot?  Really?  And no one is losing a job because of these epic failures.  So much for bringing jobs toio the US.  Meanwhile, Honda (no Toyota or Nissan, even in Japan) is investing another $149 million in US operations.  Pitiful.

Our job becomes one of getting the most and best out of what we have, including finding a place for nurtured weeds.  Waste nothing, including people with limitations.

"Which means?"

There'll be more later, as electrical disturbances roil the thinking processes.

Until then, Shalom, my friends.