Operation Fish and Chips

“You’re brave, Pete!,” my sister Liz said as we drove to SFO for our departure.  She was commenting on the fact that I was leaving my business in the hands of its managers for the next four months.  The way she said it made me pause.  Bravery and stupidity can be closely related!  I’ll find out which I am only when I’m 10,000 miles from my customers and employees.

A year ago when Beth was awarded the position to teach California Community College students for a Semester Abroad in London it was clear that the right plan was for our family to join her.  It was a year away and we would each figure out how to do it.

At first it seemed perfect for me to treat this fall as a sabbatical.  I pictured myself sitting on a comfortable stool in a pub, sipping a room temperature draft bitter thinking about the future of gate automation and how to ensure that my life makes a significant contribution to the world…or at least to humanity.  I read a book, “Built to Sell.”  It emphasizes that the true test of a company that is sellable is one that can survive or even thrive for an extended period without its owner’s day-to-day involvement.  Well that was what I wanted to hear.  The problem, of course is how to get a business to that point.  And how to test it and know you’ve got it right without risking a disaster.

Of my twelve employees three have grown into an Operations Team with me:  an office manager, an installation manager and a service manager.  Beginning last fall we met monthly for a half day with an outside coach to work on specific managerial basics: managerial finance 101, sales 101, managing people 101, etc.  In January I told the Ops Team of my “London” plans.  They each responded differently and true to their respective character from: “What?  You’re crazy.” To: “Great, I’ve worked with remote bosses in the past.” To: I’m not looking forward to you coming back and taking away from me what I’ve shown I can do!”  We then turned our monthly meetings into prep meetings.  It was in June that we agreed to give this “adventure” a name.  The whole business voted and we chose Operation Fish and Chips.  We figured by giving it a proper name we’d be able to talk about it in short hand, make it feel like a discrete project, and (hopefully) add a little spirit of fun to what otherwise might seem scary.

Together we made lists of risks during Op F+C (what if our main subcontractor goes out of business?), tasks that needed to be completed before Op F+C began, and each of our roles and responsibilities now and during Op F+C.  Each month we tracked our progress against the tasks.  We fired someone, built a robust project management process, bought a new type of vehicle so we could sell a vehicle which is nearing the end of its life, and listed the resources available to support the business -- answering the question: “Who do we call when”  “…we need a performance bond?”  or  “we need to hire a temporary installer?”

Meanwhile I honed my message to my employees and sub contractors: “I’m confident in you”; “Our customers are confident in this company, not just me”; “We have a great team”; “I can be reached by email”; “I’ll be skype-ing in every two weeks”; “Each of us and the business itself will step up to a new level during Operation Fish + Chips.,” etc.

The week before my departure I sent an email to key customers and received a flood of messages along the line of: “What a great experience you’ll have,” “You have a great team.,” “Why aren’t you going for a year?” They were gratifying and I emphasized them to all the employees.

The morning before Abby and I flew to London Bay Cities Automatic Gates had a breakfast together at Hobee’s.  Everyone was in a good mood (a nice, free breakfast can do that).  I gave each person an English food goodie of their choosing: 6-pack of Newcastle Brown Ale, thick cut orange marmalade, dark chocolate McVittie’s digestive biscuits, etc.  I repeated my “confidence” message one more time.

At the end of breakfast one of my employees asked: “Peter, do you have a succession plan?”  “You mean if I die?”  “Yes.”  Fortunately I could answer in the affirmative.  But the unexpected morbid question in front of the whole team reminded me that with unexpected death as a constant possibility, I had to think, first: Carpe diem!  Take advantage of the chance to live in London for four months.  And second: you can only do so much to avoid risks.

I said “good bye” to Liz at the entrance to immigration at the airport.  A few minutes later in the waiting lounge for our flight while Abby listened to her IPod I checked my email messages. Halfway into a quick response to a customer’s email I bit my lip.  I deleted my response.  I decided to be brave and let my Ops Team handle the response on their own.

Peter