“What are you doing?” Kim Allen asked me.
I stumbled over my words, trying to explain myself as the line at the coffee shop grew, but the truth was, I was drowning.
I was a college student who’d impressed folks working evenings, but now, promoted to a supervisor position and thrown into the morning rush, I was learning fast that it was a different world.
I was falling behind, and becoming a hindrance, and Kim pulled me into the back room.
“Look, you can do this; in fact, you could manage this place if you want to some day but today is about you stepping back to day one and learning,” she said. “This isn’t night shift; we’re pushing almost a hundred people through each half hour.”
She told me to only do what she told me to do at each station over the next couple of days.
The night shift was about multitasking and cleaning, cycling the dairy cooler, prepping for tomorrow.
The morning rush was about being a well-oiled machine, one in which everyone did one or two tasks, and stayed out of the other folks’ way.
Kim kept me on task, watched the whole operation, worked the steam wand side of the espresso machine and interacted brilliantly with customers, both the ones walking in the door and the ones waiting for their latte.
At one point, while I was working the shots side of the espresso machine, I reached for the steamed milk and she slapped my hand.
“My job,” she said. “Stick to yours.”
The slap didn’t hurt, but it made her point clear: stop thinking like night shift and set multitasking aside until the rush dies down.
A week later, we went to lunch.
“Those first few days were tough on you, eh?”
“Yeah,” I said, “I had no idea.”
“Yet, three days in, you were there, and running the show on the fourth,” Kim said. “Most folks take a couple of weeks to get up to speed.”
I smiled.
“I push you hard, because I don’t see leadership potential in a lot of folks, but it’s practically dripping off you.”
Kim was a great encourager and had a brilliant mind for shaping people and seeing the larger picture. In time she was running the biggest coffee company’s largest district.
As we talked she left the smaller vista of running a busy morning shift and started asking me questions about the whole operation.
“How do you think the flow works?”
I wasn’t even sure what she meant.
She continued.
“I’m thinking about moving the blender stations. They’re too far from the fridge and ice bin, and folks get crossed up trying to get drip coffee with the traffic.”
I could see that clearly, now that she pointed it out. I’d figured the equipment was where the company wanted it but now could see she could decide.
“Where would you put it?” I asked.
“No, where would YOU put it?”
I thought about it.
“Ideally behind the bar with the ice bin on one side and small fridge on the other, but we’d need outlets and a stand.”
“That would be perfect, but we won’t get the outlets and stand, so where?”
“Flip them with the drip machines, that way the register folks would only have to turn around for drip, and the blender drinks would only need one pass after they’re made instead of the back- and-forth traffic.”
“We’d need to reroute water”
“Yep, about seven feet, but it’s an easy argument to explain with the district manager.”
She wrote it down in her notebook and said, “That’s a little bigger thinking, and good. But you can think and see bigger.”
She put her fork down and looked me in the eye.
“I know ministry is your passion and you’ll go on to pastor a church, but while you’re here the sky really can be the limit. Do you remember my question on your first day on day shift? Right before I pulled you off the floor?”
“You said, ‘What are you doing?’”
She smiled. “Yep. That’s the question I ask myself every day when I wake up, and every time I walk into the store. It’s not ‘What tasks do I have to do?’ It’s “What’s it all about? Why am I here? What is my vision for this place, for my career, my life?”
Kim Allen was the best teaching boss I ever had.
Because of her, I was promoted into management and stayed with the company for 10 years before leaving to do ministry full time.
My specialty was rescuing failing stores, and I was pretty good at it.
I wouldn’t have been without the things Kim taught me.
I learned to walk into a mess, assess immediate needs, address them, and then start reimagining the potential for the place.
I would cast a new vision, bring in some folks who’d worked for me and got the big picture (usually to replace folks who were let go for not buying into the necessary changes), and start retraining the rest of the crew on principles that Kim had taught me.
Folks who stayed on needed to be flexible enough to reorient themselves, tossing bad habits and wrong approaches while embracing the new, better way to do the job.
We won awards at a couple of stores, one in California, and one in Pennsylvania, because of the things the customers noted — like great attitudes, and getting to know the customers by name, building relationships and customer loyalty.
But the foundation under those things the customers noted were changes to the work flow, timing changes that sped up service and a different vision for the business and its purpose.
The Bible says, “Without vision, the people perish.”
Kim Allen, I’m sure now retired in SoCal or her beloved Carolinas, taught me how to see that principle in every setting, and how, if given the chance, to apply it to good result.
She was the best of several good bosses I had with that company. (I was lucky to only ever have one bad one, and it came just as I was ready to head off into vocational ministry, like it was an added incentive to walk at the right time.)
Those same principles apply across the spectrum of life.
If someone is running for office, but can’t express a goal-oriented vision, they want the position, but won’t do much with it.
If the big boss doing the final interview in your hiring process can’t express a vision, keep that resume handy, you may find the job isn’t working out for you, or worse, the company is sliding downhill.
Vision, and the capacity to reorient oneself when necessary, make for a fluid approach that can roll with, and create, necessary changes.
The Rev. James Hogan is a native of Stowe Township and serves as pastor of Faithbridge Community Church. His views do not reflect the views of the West Hills Gazette.
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