The Post Script: Personal Matters
A post script is a footnote at the end.
I was fortunate to be exposed to the Toyota Production System as a young man. I’d never been in an automobile plant, and I had no idea what I was about to see and learn. This was an “eyes wide open” experience for me. And it came on like a whirlwind. Only 12 days after starting at Toyota, barely out of orientation and not knowing anyone very well, I was off to Japan for a month of training. I was part of the seventh group to go over to our mother plant, Tsutsumi, and I went with 49 other newly hired teammates, 6 of whom were also from Body Weld. My team member # was 531. When we left, Body Weld was technically still a construction site. When we returned, it had been turned over to production.
I have so many great memories of the trip. We were treated to a nice greeting ceremony where I experienced sushi for the first time. I distinctly recall asking what the meat was on the stick in front of me and being told it was “sparrow.” One weekend, a few of our group took the bullet train from Nagoya to Kyoto in the interior mountains of Japan. The snow-capped mountains in February were beautiful. The Buddhist temples in Kyoto are some of the largest wooden buildings in the world. Interesting place. I remember seeing the employee parking lot at the plant and wondering how my trainer would find his car. It seemed that 75% of the cars were white. In a nutshell, it was explained to me that the Japanese, being one race, had similar tastes. And that if someone owned a red car, its resale value would suffer. Not sure about that part? Interesting nonetheless.
Far and away the most lasting memory of the trip is the time I spent with my personal trainer. He was old enough to be my father and had spent his entire working career with Toyota. He was kind and friendly, gracious, neat, organized, professional, and most of all a patient teacher. He was the Group Leader of the group where I trained. He always carried a Japanese/English translation dictionary with him, as he could speak little English and I spoke no Japanese. In between training, we’d sit in the break room and slowly try to become better acquainted. He invited me over for dinner one Saturday, where I met his lovely wife. She’d cooked a great Japanese meal and provided a fork, spoon, and knife for me, even though they didn’t use them. We sat on the floor around a round table under a warm blanket and ate, talked, and laughed. On another night, he took me to a steakhouse after work. I think he wanted to make me feel a bit more at home. That’s just how he was.
A few months after I returned home, my trainer came to the plant in Georgetown for 3 months to set up some of the systems and to further our training. By this time, there were six or seven members in our group. He fit right in and made a strong impression on everyone. I returned the favor and invited him over for dinner and took him sightseeing. I felt grateful and indebted for his friendship and example. When the time came for him to return to Japan, we were sad to say goodbye. He wrote a four-page, handwritten letter in English and read it to the group. In it, he mentioned every member by name and had something kind to say about each person. His last words for us at his departure are shown in Figure 14.1.1
FIGURE 14.1
Part of the farewell letter written to the work group upon his departure by my personal trainer, Mr. Itaru Baba (1988).