The Chocolate Bar Caper

May 23, 2005 | Category: On The Job

OK, I'm going to call one of my current projects Operation Chocolate Bars.

I'm doing it in addition to my regular day job because its a pet project of my Exec VP. Operation Chocolate Bars is like a high-profile charity gig for the company. And? A pain in the ass.

Right now, I've got to refit a Chocolate Bar Factory to manufacture these special Chocolate Bars to be sold.

Last week, I headed into Chicago to tour the factory and sit down with the guys. The agenda was to drill down on the plan I'd drawn up, review the budget, and hash out where the risks were against the schedule.

I brought with me the Marshmallow Guys. It had been decided, on high, that the Chcolate Bars would be filled with flavored Marshmallow.

The Marshmallow Company, elitists but in a good way, would be actually setting up a piece of the assembly line to their own special specifications and staffing it themselves. This was to protect the secret recipe of their Marshmallow Fluff and ensure their excruciating standards of quality.

So we all got into the conference room; a group of us that included the Plant Manager of the facility and two of his minions, the Kitchen Manager, myself, and the three preppy guys from the Marshmallow Company.

We all sat down. They looked at me; I looked at them. The Marshmallow Guys started handing out business cards and introducing themselves and we all went around shaking hands.

And sat down again.

Then the Plant Manager took a deep breath, looked at me, and said, "Elizabeth. Explain to me why we are using Marshamallow."

I gave him a look that clearly telegraphed that a Plant Manager has about zero input on the ingredients.

The Plant Manager sighed again, leaned back in his char, and said sadly; "We have a problem. This factory was originally designed for peanut butter filling. My guys, they've worked with peanut butter. It is a much better filling choice than Marshmallow. I must insist that we use peanut butter."

The Kitchen Manager exploded, and said that the Plant Manager's job was to make chocolate bars to specifications. That it was outrageous that the Plant Manager would be so inappropriate.

One of Plant Manager's minions started badmouthing the Marshmallow Company in a mutter.

Oh yeah, then the Marshmallow Guys brought it.

Since I don't know how to wolf whistle, I just slapped the table. I asked Plant Manager if he was refusing to implement Marshmallow. He said he wanted an executive order, because he felt that peanut butter was the better choice. Then he walked out.

Meeting sandbagged, hijacked, and adjourned.

It took me 3 hours to get out of the building to my car. I was pulled into hallway corner after hallway corner by folks with a deeply felt need to express their STRONG opinions. I nodded so much that I'd become a human bobble-head.

Pulling on my headset as I finally began swimming upstream against Chicago traffic, I called the Plant Manager's manager. Who went through the 7 stages of grief in about 15 minutes. He couldn't believe his guy had headed off the reservation at supersonic speed. That he'd been such a pain in the ass, especially in a vendor meeting.

PMM: Elizabeth, my guess is that he's very concerned for his guys. They're all highly trained peanut butter technicians.

Me(groaning in frustration): We'll cross-train them in Marshmallow. It will expand their skill sets.

PMM: This was a disconnect between me and him, I was on vacation when the Marshmallow decision was finalized. I'll fix this, Elizabeth. Give me the day.

We hung up and a few minutes later my cell rung. It was the Vice President of Chocolate Affairs, who'd spoken with the PMM. He was forwarding me the Decision Memo that confirmed the Marshmallow Company as the vendor choice.

Another couple of minutes and the Director of North American Chocolate Production Factories called me, confirming Marshmallow and assuring me that the "local resistance" would be promptly resolved.

Then the Director of Recipes called me to say that Peanut Butter is not evil and it shouldn't be maligned. I told him that at no point had anyone bad-mouthed any other filling products. That the closest we'd come was to say that Peanut Butter had the market cornered and it was nice to be doing something different.

For the next two days it was a tempest in a Venti cup.

Last night, I got a message in my voice mail. Informing me that the peanut butter decision is being revisited.

You know, when I was growing up, my father sometimes worked from our home office. I can remember listening to the rumble of his voice through the door. The briefcase he carried, full of Very Important Documents that we were Not Allowed to Touch. I used to wonder what it would be like, to be "in the room" and having such serious discussions and making such hard decisions.

Well, now I know.

And I'm here to say: Dorothy? Head back! Oz is really run by lunatics and it's just a regular guy pulling all those levers!

*Thus pauseth the insanity. I'm taking a sick day.*

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