I get this question occasionally: “Are your columns really about the daily life in produce departments?”
A fair question. Most topics that this scribe scratches out on a weekly basis absolutely originate in one of the many produce “aisles” that I’ve worked in over the years. Many tidbits of wisdom are imparted to me from many people I’ve had the pleasure of working with one-on-one.
Take, for example, my old friend; I’ll call him “Steve.” As a produce manager, Steve once told me that whenever he was transferred or assigned to a new store — especially a location with a history of poor performance, bad morale and low standards — he had a system for getting things back on track.
He didn’t have a specific name for it, but I’ll call it “The first 30 days.”
This may sound familiar to most of us who have experienced the same predicament. It’s more than just challenging to turn around an underperforming location; it’s just, well, I can’t express the precise term I want to use, as The Packer is a professional trade journal.
However difficult or crass the verb, this fact remains: It takes a certain amount of sheer grit to right a sinking ship. As a stern produce captain, Steve told me that he devoted an entire month — a solid 30-day full-court press with no days off — to get everything the way he wanted.
That’s quite a commitment.
“The first week I spent with the opening clerks. I worked side by side as they received the produce load, and as I helped put the load away, I directed exactly how I wanted everything to be — as in a place for everything, and everything in its place,” Steve said. “I showed the opening clerk, no matter the experience level, how to properly rotate, how to check off the order, and more. I specified exactly how I wanted things done, from the opening of the trailer door to the final wipe-down of the chrome on the wet rack when he was done setting up.”
Steve added, “Those opening clerks were so glad to see me move on to Step 2.”
In Week 2 and Week 3, Steve said he worked side by side with the early and middle shifts.
“I shadowed all they did,” he said. “I followed them around like a puppy, except it was more like a wolf shadowing his prey. I showed them the best way to determine what they needed on every stocking load. I watched every move and demonstrated to them all my methods and tips so that they would work as efficiently and quickly as possible. I’m sure they hated me by week’s end, but I wouldn’t quit until I knew that they got it.”
Finally, Steve said he spent the last week working exclusively with the mid- and closing shifts.
“This was actually the best reception of all my clerks,” he said.
Why? I guessed, as Steve said, “Nobody spends extended time with the late-shift people. Few realize that they often walk into a busy mess when they arrive, in terms of sanitation and stock conditions. I helped fix that. The closers are probably the least appreciated shift. I worked with them, again side by side, instructing them how I wanted the produce department to look when their shift was complete: everything full, straightened, rotated — all the details I wanted.”
I could relate to Steve, as I did something similar in each new store I worked.
However, I mentioned how hard that must have been. A whole 30 days? Without a single day off? He must have had a very understanding wife.
Steve said that the first 30 days were as grueling for him as for the crew, but it was a worthwhile sacrifice.
“For as each week passed, my crew knew what I expected, and I held everyone accountable thereafter. And yes, I made sure they took their breaks and lunches, as did I,” he said. “After the first month, things went much more smoothly. Sales and gross profit somehow fell into line. The crew had a whole new attitude, and the department got better with each day.”
And after the first 30 days? “I took two days off every week, as it ought to be.”
Armand Lobato works for the Idaho Potato Commission. His 40 years of experience in the produce business span a range of foodservice and retail positions.
