The Goal

potential speed. But because of dependency, my maximum speed is the rate at which Herbie is walking. My rate is throughput. Herbie's rate governs mine. So Herbie really is determining the maximum throughput.

My head feels as though it's going to take off.

Because, see, it really doesn't matter how fast any o ne of us can go, or does go. Somebody up there, whoever is leading right now, is walking faster than average, say, three miles per hour. So what! Is his speed helping the troop as a whole to move faster, to gain more throughput? No way. Each of the other boys down the line is walking a little bit faster than the kid directly behind him. Are any of them helping to move the troop faster? Absolutely not. Herbie is walking at his own slower speed. He is the one who is governing throughput for the troop as a whole.

In fact, whoever is moving the slowest in the troop is the one who will govern throughput. And that person may not always be Herbie. Before lunch, Herbie was walking faster. It really wasn't obvious who was the slowest in the troop. So the role of Herbie- the greatest limit on throughput-was actually floating through the troop; it depended upon who was moving the slowest at a particular time. But overall, Herbie has the least capacity for walking. His rate ultimately determines the troop's rate. Which means-

'Hey, look at this, Mr. Rogo,' says Herbie.

He's pointing at a marker made of concrete next to the trail. I take a look. Well, I'll be... it's a milestone! A genuine, hon- est-to-god milestone! How many speeches have I heard where somebody talks about these damn things? And this is the first one I've ever come across. This is what it says:

'- 5-' miles

Hmmm. It must mean there are five miles to walk in both directions. So this must be the mid-point of the hike. Five miles to

go.

What time is it?

I check my watch. Gee, it's 2:30 P.M. already. And we left at

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8:30 A.M. So subtracting the hour we took for lunch, that means we've covered five miles... in five hours?

We aren't moving at two miles per hour. We are moving at the rate of one mile per hour. So with five hours to go...

It's going to be DARK by the time we get there.

And Herbie is standing here next to me delaying the throughput of the entire troop.

'Okay, let's go! Let's go!' I tell him.

'All right! All right!' says Herbie, jumping.

What am I going to do?

Rogo, (I'm telling myself in my head), you loser! You can't even manage a troop of Boy Scouts! Up front, you've got some kid who wants to set a speed record, and here you are stuck behind Fat Herbie, the slowest kid in the woods. After an hour, the kid in front-if he's really moving at three miles per hour-is going to be two miles ahead. Which means you're going to have to run two miles to catch up with him.

If this were my plant, Peach wouldn't even give me three months. I'd already be on the street by now. The demand was for us to cover ten miles in five hours, and we've only done half of that. Inventory is racing out of sight. The carrying costs on that inventory would be rising. We'd be ruining the company.

But there really isn't much I can do about Herbie. Maybe I could put him someplace else in the line, but he's not going to move any faster. So it wouldn't make any difference.

Or would it?

'HEY!' I yell forward. 'TELL THE KID AT THE FRONT TO STOP WHERE HE IS!'

The boys relay the call up to the front of the column.

'EVERYBODY STAY IN LINE UNTIL WE CATCH UP!' I yell. 'DON'T LOSE YOUR PLACE IN THE LINE!'

Fifteen minutes later, the troop is standing in condensed line. I find that Andy is the one who usurped the role of leader. I remind them all to stay in exactly the same place they had when we were walking.

'Okay,' I say. 'Everybody join hands.'

They all look at each other.

'Come on! Just do it!' I tell them. 'And don't let go.'

Then I take Herbie by the hand and, as if I'm dragging a chain, I go up the trail, snaking past the entire line. Hand in hand, the rest of the troop follows. I pass Andy and keep walking.

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And when I'm twice the distance of the line-up, I stop. What I've done is turn the entire troop around so that the boys have exactly the opposite order they had before.

'Now listen up!' I say. 'This is the order you're going to stay in until we reach where we're going. Understood? Nobody passes anybody. Everybody just tries to keep up with the person in front of him. Herbie will lead.'

Herbie looks shocked and amazed. 'Me?'

Everyone else looks aghast too.

'You want him to lead?' asks Andy.

'But he's the slowest one!' says another kid.

And I say, 'The idea of this hike is not to see who can get there the fastest. The idea is to get there together. We're not a bunch of individuals out here. We're a team. And the team does not arrive in camp until all of us arrive in camp.'

So we start off again. And it works. No kidding. Everybody stays together behind Herbie. I've gone to the back of the line so I can keep tabs, and I keep waiting for the gaps to appear, but they don't. In the middle of the line I see someone pause to adjust his pack straps. But as soon as he starts again, we all walk just a little faster and we're caught up. Nobody's out of breath. What a difference!

Of course, it isn't long before the fast kids in the back of the line start their grumbling.

'Hey, Herpes!' yells one of them. 'I'm going to sleep back here. Can't you speed it up a little?'

'He's doing the best he can,' says the kid behind Herbie, 'so lay off him!'

'Mr. Rogo, can't we put somebody faster up front?' asks a kid ahead of me.

'Listen, if you guys want to go faster, then you have to figure out a way to let Herbie go faster,' I tell them.

It gets quiet for a few minutes.

Then one of the kids in the rear says, 'Hey, Herbie, what have you got in your pack?'

'None of your business!' says Herbie.

But I say, 'Okay, let's hold up for a minute.'

Herbie stops and turns around. I tell him to come to the back of the line and take off his pack. As he does, I take the pack from him-and nearly drop it.

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