This summer marked 30 years since I started my first job out of college–working as an engineer at a General Motors engine plant in Livonia, Michigan. It's strange to say that out loud. In some ways, it feels like yesterday. In others, it feels like several careers ago.
Recently, I had the opportunity to reflect on those early years during two podcast conversations–one with Mark Ryan on his Improvement Nerds podcast, and another with Ed Pound on the Operations Science Podcast. Both were generous, curious hosts who gave me space to look back–not just on what I did, but what I learned (and unlearned) along the way.
What struck me in both conversations is how deeply those early experiences continue to shape how I see improvement work today. Not just the tools and techniques–but the human side of it. The systems side. The humility required to lead real change.
So here's a bit of what I shared–and what I've come to believe–three decades in.
Lesson #1: Technical Solutions Aren't Enough Without People
Like many engineers fresh out of school, I entered the working world focused on solving problems. That's what I was trained to do. So when I was assigned to a safety project at GM, or later a production improvement project at Honeywell, my default mindset was: analyze, decide, implement.
It wasn't that I didn't want input from frontline operators–I knew it would help. But the culture didn't make it easy. And I didn't push hard enough to make it happen.
At GM, I was working on reducing ergonomic risks–projects that directly impacted operators. But the idea of pausing production to get their perspective? That just wasn't the norm.
And at Honeywell, nearly a decade later, the same pattern played out. I was tasked with improving throughput and reducing cycle time–using Lean-inspired tactics like setup time reduction and smaller batch sizes. But when I tried to get input from those closest to the work, I heard:
“We're already behind. We can't afford to shut down production to ask people what they think.”
That's the Catch-22 of traditional operations thinking. You're under pressure, so you bypass the very conversations that could lead to sustainable improvement. I should have pushed back harder. I should have made the case that a two-hour pause could save weeks of inefficiency or rework. That was my mistake–and one I've worked not to repeat.
Lesson #2: A Culture of Improvement Requires Psychological Safety
When I reflect on what was missing in those early roles, it's not just Lean tools or visual management or standardized work. It's psychological safety.
People didn't feel safe speaking up, questioning, experimenting–or admitting when something wasn't working. And in some ways, neither did I.
That kind of culture limits learning. It limits improvement. You end up with smart people doing isolated work, not collaborative learning.
In both podcast conversations, we came back to this point again and again: If people feel like they'll be punished or dismissed for trying something new, they won't try. And if you don't involve them in designing the solution, they won't support it.
Lesson #3: Where You Come From Shapes How You See Work
During my chat with Ed Pound, we touched on the deeper origins of my interest in systems and work. I grew up in Michigan, the son of a GM engineer. My mom's side of the family was from Flint. My grandparents lived in northeastern Ohio–steel country.
As a kid in the '80s, I remember driving through the Mahoning Valley, seeing the ruins of old steel mills, and asking, “What happened here?” I didn't have the vocabulary for it then, but I sensed the loss.
And in Flint, I saw the consequences of deindustrialization up close. These were places that had once thrived–and now struggled.
Those early observations planted a seed: What happens when organizations fail to adapt? When improvement stops? When leaders stop listening?
They also gave me empathy–for the people doing the work, for the communities built around it, and for the complexity of trying to change it.
What I Try to Do Differently Now
Those experiences–GM, Honeywell, Dell, and my family history–shape how I approach improvement work today.
I don't want to be “the expert” who shows up with answers. I want to be the facilitator who helps the real experts–frontline workers, managers, teams–solve problems together.
I say “no” to projects where I'm told:
“Don't bother the people doing the work. Just tell us what to do.”
That's not just ineffective. It's disrespectful.
Real improvement comes from people doing real work. It's messy. It's slow. It's vulnerable. And it's worth it.
Still Learning, Still Improving
Thirty years in, I'm still making mistakes. Still learning. Still adjusting how I show up.
The problems may have changed–more tech, more complexity, more remote work–but the fundamentals haven't.
People want to do meaningful work. They want to be part of something better. And they want to be heard.
As leaders, our job is to make that possible–not just with tools, but with trust.
Thanks to Mark and Ed for giving me space to reflect on these lessons. And thanks to everyone who's been part of this journey–whether as a mentor, a colleague, a client, or a podcast listener.
We all learn better when we learn together.
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- Engage people at all levels in sustainable improvement
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