Trust, respect, and the skilled trades

Manufacturing’s skilled-labor crisis tends to be a one-sided debate. We hear that entry-level employees just don’t seem to care. Why don’t they engage? Why don’t they put forth the effort? No one really wants to work anymore. It’s the manufacturing manager’s point of view.

The front-line workers’ point of view isn’t heard quite as often. It creeps out on the Internet and is often shrouded in anonymity, for obvious reasons. They’re not about to bite the hand that feeds them. But the stories are there. Sometimes they’re about starting pay, which can be low for people without the right training or skill sets.

Progressive shops support cultures that promote idea sharing and career advancement, and we’re happy to share these stories, but the griping remains pervasive, and probably for good reason. Workers and managers aren’t on the same page.

So how do fabricators fix this? Management strategies abound, but what about worker strategies? We also hear about what soft skills managers like to see: engagement, good communication, idea generation, positive thinking. Unfortunately, these vague terms don’t really help the entry-level machine operator. How do you engage and communicate well, exactly?

In his book, 7 Success Skills for Apprentices and Skilled Trades Persons, James Sidney Harvey tries to clarify the vagueness. A journeyman tool- and diemaker, with experience in myriad other trades, Harvey attempts to prepare entry-level tradespeople for the realities of the working world. The crux of the matter is that a tradesperson needs to identify what an employer values, and then be sure to provide it and then some. But how? By focusing on seven areas: self-motivation, continual learning, networking, communication, research, presentation, and transferrable skills.

Although some companies do have solid training, workers can’t rely on them. They should never stop learning or seeking new skills. “Unfortunately, workers are at a disadvantage the minute they assume that they can rely on someone else to shore up their skill set,” Harvey writes.

“Mentors are there to assist you in using the skills you have, but they can’t force you to have a vested interest in your role and where it could take you.”

In the “learning” section, he writes about the obvious—learning more about machines, materials, and methods—but also co-workers and supervisors. There’s the well-known (though rarely seen in print) “master and slave” relationship; the supervisors tell, the workers do, period. He describes the “you’re invisible so I’ll just ignore you” supervisor and, finally, the “master craftsperson: the great teacher … If you’re blessed to have one of these individuals in your job, consider yourself extremely fortunate.”

Not everyone can be so fortunate, but a person can learn to relate to all types of supervisors and co-workers. First, he or she needs to master the skills, and co-workers aren’t always willing to share their knowledge with somebody new. After all, it’s their knowledge that has kept them employed, right? If a press brake operator, and nobody else, knows how to set up a certain job on an old machine, that gives the operator job security—at least that’s the thinking.

Entry-level workers usually can’t change an entire company culture, but they can learn. During an interview, Harvey told me about a toolroom where tribal knowledge ruled. “People didn’t talk about how they did their jobs. They treated it like military secrets.”

An avid bagpipe player, Harvey happened to be building his own set of pipes at the time, and he asked one of his co-workers what kind of drill he needed. The journeyman’s eyes lit up. He started giving advice and introduced Harvey to gundrilling. His newfound teacher showed him how to set up the machine, determine tool reference points, and everything else. The side project provided neutral territory. He wasn’t stepping into anyone’s turf on the job.

In his book, Harvey describes the time an engineering manager came down to the floor with the foreman to ask Harvey why a certain part was machined improperly. Harvey told the manager his standard (and documented) operation procedure. He showed him the control screen, the toolpath, and how the toolpath coordinates were matched with the dimensions specified on the latest drawing revision.

“This is when the foreman realized that the drawing and revision numbers I had used matched the program, and he said to the engineer, ‘What drawing are you using as a reference?’ It turns out the engineer had an old drawing that was no longer in use, because the process had changed.”

Note that Harvey didn’t just ask his manager what drawing revision he had. Perhaps out of respect, Harvey didn’t question him, but he did communicate the fact that he followed a detailed and documented procedure. That detail probably helped build trust.

The way the skilled-labor shortage is portrayed can give people entering manufacturing the wrong impression. The laws of supply and demand suggest that if students choose manufacturing and get a two-year degree from a technical college, companies will compete for their talent. And they do, but success isn’t guaranteed, nor are trust and respect. Real life is more complicated than a supply and demand curve.

Students need to be prepared for all types of companies and management styles, from the tribal to the progressive. They may work with people who have been with a sound family business for decades. Or they may work with people who previously were laid off after a plant closure or relocation, or perhaps because top managers decided to cut costs or move the company in a different direction. Experience shapes people’s perceptions and behaviors.

Entry-level workers, even highly qualified ones, don’t automatically earn trust and respect from co-workers and managers just because they choose manufacturing. They must prove their mettle, and this involves more than showing technical skills. They must relate to, learn from, and engage with their co-workers to build trust and respect. Accomplishing this may be the most valuable skill of all.