Automotive did business. I didn't like Shawn Myers; and I didn't like the organizational nepotism that had catapulted him to a position where more deserving and more capable people would be forced to take him seriously. And I was about halfway down the road toward disliking Kurt Myers, as well. Throughout the morning, Kurt had condescended to his subordinates and me as if we were a troupe of trained poodles.
But you don't let your personal feelings get in the way when you run a business. TP Automotive had immediately agreed to my requested fees thus far, and the company was known for paying vendor invoices on time. Kurt was offering me more work, at a time when work was scarce for high-paid consultants and hourly wage-earners alike.
"I appreciate your confidence," I said. "And of course I'm interested. I would be honored to be of service to TP Automotive again."
Chapter 5
Beth Fisk joined us a few minutes later at Kurt’s summons. No one mentioned Kevin Lang again. It was as if the nastiness with the marijuana-smoking, sexually ambiguous union agitator had never occurred.
Kurt sat back in his chair, his arms folded, as Beth explained the situation at UP&S—the little stamping company in central Ohio.
“UP&S was another operation that was bleeding cash and losing business when TP Automotive acquired it,” Beth said. “The company started out back in 1997 as a joint venture between a Japanese transplant automotive components manufacturer, and a division of GM that had recently been spun off. For about ten years UP&S was reasonably profitable.”
“But all the while, the automotive business was going global,” Kurt said. “The old ways of making automotive components in the Midwest—with American workers—didn’t work anymore. I know you’ve heard that story before, Craig, so we won’t belabor it here.”
“The Japanese transplant company divested in 2008,” Beth went on. “UP&S continued under American management. They had a big round of layoffs in 2009, following the market crash.”
Kurt shook his head, genuine dismay showing on his face. Brought up in the glory days of the American automobile industry, there was a part of Kurt that was sincerely chagrined to see companies like GLFS and UP&S lose their shirts to dollar-an-hour sweatshops in China and India. Of course, as an executive at TP Automotive, Kurt was also involved in orchestrating the migrations of capital and wages that were hurting these same American companies. But the fact of the matter was that he had no choice. Just as a rising tide lifts all boats, so a falling tide lowers them all. American industry was moving toward a global wage scale—and that scale was decidedly lower than what U.S. workers had grown accustomed to in the heady decades following World War II.
There are no angels in business , I told myself. And no devils, either. We are all doing what we have to do to get by, to keep the factories running and the paychecks flowing to as many workers as possible. In light of that sentiment, my betrayal of Kevin Lang didn’t seem quite as despicable as it had an hour ago. Kevin had known the score all along. At each step, he had been complicit in his own demise.
“So here is what’s going on at UP&S,” Beth said. “We have two office workers—low-level staff professionals who have been there for years, but have never moved up the management ladder.”
“And this is, without a doubt, their main problem,” Kurt said. “You know, I’ve never understood that—why some people want to remain at a company for years, even though they aren’t going anywhere. The way I look at it is: If you don't move up the ladder, that's a sure sign that you aren’t held in very high esteem by the management.”
I wondered how my father would have responded to that. He had worked at the same company for more than thirty years, with only a few pay-grade adjustments. He had never been the manager of anything.
Beth paused until Kurt
But you don't let your personal feelings get in the way when you run a business. TP Automotive had immediately agreed to my requested fees thus far, and the company was known for paying vendor invoices on time. Kurt was offering me more work, at a time when work was scarce for high-paid consultants and hourly wage-earners alike.
"I appreciate your confidence," I said. "And of course I'm interested. I would be honored to be of service to TP Automotive again."
Chapter 5
Beth Fisk joined us a few minutes later at Kurt’s summons. No one mentioned Kevin Lang again. It was as if the nastiness with the marijuana-smoking, sexually ambiguous union agitator had never occurred.
Kurt sat back in his chair, his arms folded, as Beth explained the situation at UP&S—the little stamping company in central Ohio.
“UP&S was another operation that was bleeding cash and losing business when TP Automotive acquired it,” Beth said. “The company started out back in 1997 as a joint venture between a Japanese transplant automotive components manufacturer, and a division of GM that had recently been spun off. For about ten years UP&S was reasonably profitable.”
“But all the while, the automotive business was going global,” Kurt said. “The old ways of making automotive components in the Midwest—with American workers—didn’t work anymore. I know you’ve heard that story before, Craig, so we won’t belabor it here.”
“The Japanese transplant company divested in 2008,” Beth went on. “UP&S continued under American management. They had a big round of layoffs in 2009, following the market crash.”
Kurt shook his head, genuine dismay showing on his face. Brought up in the glory days of the American automobile industry, there was a part of Kurt that was sincerely chagrined to see companies like GLFS and UP&S lose their shirts to dollar-an-hour sweatshops in China and India. Of course, as an executive at TP Automotive, Kurt was also involved in orchestrating the migrations of capital and wages that were hurting these same American companies. But the fact of the matter was that he had no choice. Just as a rising tide lifts all boats, so a falling tide lowers them all. American industry was moving toward a global wage scale—and that scale was decidedly lower than what U.S. workers had grown accustomed to in the heady decades following World War II.
There are no angels in business , I told myself. And no devils, either. We are all doing what we have to do to get by, to keep the factories running and the paychecks flowing to as many workers as possible. In light of that sentiment, my betrayal of Kevin Lang didn’t seem quite as despicable as it had an hour ago. Kevin had known the score all along. At each step, he had been complicit in his own demise.
“So here is what’s going on at UP&S,” Beth said. “We have two office workers—low-level staff professionals who have been there for years, but have never moved up the management ladder.”
“And this is, without a doubt, their main problem,” Kurt said. “You know, I’ve never understood that—why some people want to remain at a company for years, even though they aren’t going anywhere. The way I look at it is: If you don't move up the ladder, that's a sure sign that you aren’t held in very high esteem by the management.”
I wondered how my father would have responded to that. He had worked at the same company for more than thirty years, with only a few pay-grade adjustments. He had never been the manager of anything.
Beth paused until Kurt
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