I signed one of those dream cleaning contracts in 1983 that janitors lust over in their most secret day dreams. No one outside of our business could possibly understand that the sight of a giant new office building turns the most genteel janitorial professional into a drooling, heavy breathing, rain-coat-clad pervert, willing to risk life, liberty, and reputation for the cleaning contract on beautiful office buildings like these.
Three brand new class “A” office buildings, 250,000 square feet each, built and expertly managed by one of the nation’s most prestigious commercial real estate companies. A top-notch client that would provide me a one of the best references I could ever have.
I was definitely at the very top of my craft. No more once-a-week beauty parlors for me. I was now in the big leagues. From now on, any actual physical cleaning I would have to do would be with me dressed in a crisp white shirt and tie. I was now the “executive” janitor leading a sizable group of zone cleaners, restroom cleaners, utility specialists, and supervisors.
Like most of us, I never paid much attention to who the tenants of the building were beyond their suite numbers. So after that first grueling night of the start-up, with feet still sore from walking every inch of all three buildings at least twice, I arrive at the property manager’s office bright and early at 8 am to bask in the glow of a job well done (at least, that’s what I had anticipated).
The property manager tells me that I have an “issue” to be resolved on the second floor of one building. So I go to the suite and ask to see the office manager. We are standing in a huge lobby inside the suite, and I am told that they need the entire office vacuumed every night, not just traffic areas, with the rest spot-vacuumed, but the whole office vacuumed from wall to wall. No problem. I am more than happy to accommodate. I tell the supervisor and the cleaner myself, then check it at the end of the shift.
Next morning, I arrive at the property manager’s office and am greeted with the same problem with the same tenant. Surprised by the complaint, I am back in the suite with the same office manager looking at the freshly vacuumed carpet, only now I am instructed to make sure a particular vacuum pattern impression is visible in the carpet. Again that evening, I instruct the supervisor and cleaner, but this time show them myself, pushing and pulling the upright vacuum, back and forth at an angle while walking backwards, which leaves an obvious herring bone pattern in the cut pile carpet.
Morning number three in the property manager’s office, and the news that the same tenant still is not happy with the vacuuming sends me over steaming, as I knew we did a great job the night before. Back to the tenant’s office, I had to smile my best customer-service grin and strain to look concerned and helpful as she tells me that lines are required. The office manager wants to see lines in the carpet. I force out a professional response, but now my mind is clouded with very evil thoughts about this office manager. That night’s meeting with the supervisor and cleaner doesn’t go well, ending with a vulgar suggestion from a dedicated cleaning professional about where my brand new upright vacuum cleaner should be physically implanted.
On morning number four, no words are exchanged between the property manager and myself. A mere glance tells me. I get to begin my day in that very same tenant suite. This time I am frantic, thinking to myself that yes, we are speaking the very same English language, and we are not looking to hear a thank you, but I just don’t want to hear there is still a problem. This time I very distinctly hear the office manager say, “there is still a defect in our office vacuuming, the stripes are going the wrong way.”
After all of these years, I have blocked out exactly how the exchange between myself and my crew member went that night as I explained that request. It’s kind of like how the pain of childbirth, I am told, is forgotten, or no woman would ever have a second child. But that night after the crew was gone, I lingered in that office suite all alone.
I did what we all tell our clients we never do and began opening every desk draw and cabinet. It was very strange, indeed. People had pens and pencils in their desk drawers, but they were all lined up perfectly, with everything organized so neatly that it puzzled me. Not just one, but every single drawer in every single desk was meticulously organized, with things grouped together and lined up perfectly. Office supply cabinets the same, coffee room drawers and cabinets the same. Meticulous organization everywhere I looked.
In a cabinet in a conference room, I opened a door to find a pile of books lined up inside perfectly stacked just like everything everywhere through the entire suite. The stacks were made up of only one book. These were obviously stored to be distributed. The name of the book was “Quality is Free,” and the author was Phillip B. Crosby. I picked up the book and leafed through the pages quickly.
I replaced the book, turned to leave, and as I walked out of the suite realized that I was in the author’s offices and the name of his company was The Quality College. With the exception of jars filled with M&M candies left on people’s desks late at night when no one is around and we are checking the cleaning, we are a very honest group of people and don’t steal. So I didn’t steal Crosby’s book that night.
The next morning, as my favorite bookstore was opening, I was right there asking if “Quality is Free” was in stock. It was. I headed out with Crosby’s book. In the 1980s, there was a panic over quality in US manufacturing, as Japanese auto makers were taking a sizable bite out of the American car maker’s market share.
Over the next two days I devoured Crosby’s book, making notes directly on the pages, and filling up page after page of my legal pad. I read about quality being defined as meeting the specifications. I read about how workers needed to be trained and monitored. I read about doing things right the very first time. I read about “Zero Defects” and then remembered how the office manager from the Quality College pronounced that dreaded word, defect. I realized that nothing would ever be the same for me again in my job or in my profession as a building service contractor from that day forward.
The following week I visited that tenant who had produced such powerful feelings inside of me, but this time I was greeted warmly. After my usual customer service spiel and inquiry, I asked if she could tell me exactly what they did there at the Quality College.
She proudly told me that quality control professionals from companies from all over the world along with representatives of foreign governments came to learn about quality, what it is, how it is controlled, and how to deliver it to whomever they served. People came from everywhere to attend the Quality College and learn how to put Phillip Crosby’s theories into practice in their organizations. I learned that Crosby was one of the most celebrated luminaries in the industrial world, and I was the janitor who cleaned his offices.
I was no slouch when it came to doing a good job cleaning. My buildings were clean, and my clients were satisfied with the work that I did. I enjoyed a good reputation, but then (what I believe was nothing less than divine providence) I was placed in charge of cleaning the Quality College.
There are academic debates about the theories of industrial quality control, quality management, and quality improvement. There are names that are known the world over: Eli Whitney, Frederick Taylor, Henry Ford, Karl Benz, W. Edwards Deming, Joseph Juran … and then there is Phillip Crosby, whose occupation is listed as Quality Guru, and I cleaned his offices.
I cannot honestly say that everything I learned about quality, I learned from Crosby, but as an engineering major in college coming into the janitorial business, I count Crosby as someone who taught me 80% of everything I know. About half of that 80% came in four short days. The rest has taken 35 years. Contact me for further references on quality. Unless, of course, at your company quality is just a slogan.
Ed
Ed, This is wonderful!! I truely loved this.
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