Tag Archive: Kitwe


The Anchor Leg

It was a quiet day. The roads were deserted and everyone had the day off to vote at the election polls. Only a handful of people were in the office to get some work done. Sitting in the big office in the virtually empty warehouse, I plugged away at the profit and loss numbers trying to make sense of all… and I found out that I wasn’t alone. “Anthony, can you come to our office for a second, we need to talk.” One of the owners asked me.

They had invited a technical advisor who joined us over the last two weeks. He ultimately advised to close down shops and approach established independent shops to be dealers. Just before the conclusion of his time, we were in mildly heated debates trying to sift out the way forward. There were a lot of numbers that were thrown around. Spreadsheets, reports and ideas were overflowing my head. I had to play mental catch up as I split my attention between trying to think about each idea critically while trying to come up with some innovative idea to contribute to the discussion. In the end, we were advised that the way forward was to shut down the shops with the highest losses. We walked away from the discussion with a list.

Now, it was just the two business owners and I sitting in the small office, dazed, confused and exhausted from the last few days. “So, Anthony, we were just going over the numbers again and wanted to see what you thought of them.” I was glad to see that I wasn’t the only one who had growing doubts on the strategy we were convinced to pursue just a few days earlier. “If we shut down those shops, and redistribute the overhead, it just makes other shops go into loss.” “That’s what I was seeing too” I replied.

Detailed analysis revealed that each shop was still independently profitable as long as we removed the overhead costs of operations at headquarters, confirming what we assumed at the beginning of the placement. “I was looking at the analysis this morning, and the main problem is overhead costs. Primarily: wages, transportation, and rent.” After seeing agreement in their eyes, I continued to share my thoughts. “As of now, those costs are fixed and in my opinion underutilized. Do you think we can stand to cut wages, or transportation?” I threw the question out there. Fuel costs are on the way up and vehicles only get older. When thinking about everyone at headquarters, the sales manager, the warehouse manager, the accountant, the administrative staff, and the stock controllers, I couldn’t think of anyone that isn’t vital to the business. In times of trouble, with skyrocketing costs, stiff competition, and political uncertainty, these are the people to invest in, not cut. Feeling the tension that the question put to the room, I eventually got the answer I was looking for. “No, we need everyone. They’re all essential.”

I began to probe what they thought of the second recommendation given: to strike deals with other agricultural shops so they could stock our product while we close our own outlets. “For dealers… they make up about 20% of your business. Is there enough potential dealers to overcome the void created by closing our own outlets?” With little thought and a shared confirming glance, they both said “No. No we can’t. It’s just not possible. Not even with our most ambitious projections.”

All three of us in the room were circling around a strategy that I felt was returning to the forefront. “I feel that with the latest improvements at headquarters, you have the capacity to manage more shops. What happens to the profit margins if we relocate the lower performing shops and open more outlets in underserved areas?” They nodded and waited for another my next question. “You mentioned potentially opening an additional shop in the same city north of here. How long would it take before we see it perform? What’s the potential there?” “It, usually it takes 3 months for a shop to reach its potential and at that location, we should see volumes anywhere up to 50% of the shop already there.” “Can you sustain the initial losses?” After a few keystrokes and clicks by the mouse, the picture was shown to me. “We can do it.”

The air in the room was much lighter than it has been the last few weeks. Slight smiles could be seen on their faces.  “So we’re clear, we’re going to open more outlets, and relocate shops that are underperforming… Good. Thanks Anthony.”

It was now clear that the original strategy to open more shops made more sense than closing them down. It grows the potential to reach more farmers, is in line with of all the work we’ve done so far to build the business’ capacity and, most importantly, takes advantage of the potential in the market.

Now that I’m entering the anchor leg of this placement, I’m again re-energized, excited and pushing forward to see this project through to the finish.

“Rise, rise again, until lambs become lions.”

It was one of those mornings. I was curled up in my undersized bed, head and feet stretching the mosquito net, eyes closed, freezing. The temperature dropped over night and all I had was my tropical sleeping bag. “Why did they have to run the trains so early?” I asked myself, after being woken up by the horns from the train yard one street over.

Right then, my alarm goes off… 5:15am. Patting all over the bed beside me I find it and quickly switch it off. “Man, I really don’t want to get up” are the first words I utter to begin the day. I switch on my headlamp and look up at the net above me brightly illuminated against the faint shine of the metal roof.

The last few weeks can be summed up with one word: “challenging”. After a real, detailed profit and loss analysis was done and the picture at my partner organization looked very grim.

Coming in at the beginning of the project, I knew margins were very tight, and that costs for transportation and the cost to store 50 kg bags of poultry feed were high. There are many brands of poultry feed to choose from and pricing is extremely competitive. The price of raw materials for poultry feed also seemed to be on the increase.

To increase growth of the business my initial assumption was to grow the capacity of the business by implementing systems, improving processes and training their staff how to use tools readily available to them on computers. Even if profit margins were small, increasing management capacity could allow opening more outlets, improve profit, increase employment, and better support poultry farmers. It seemed to be working. The accounting wasn’t yet clamped down but it seemed that increasing volume of sales would be effective and new locations were being sited for future expansion.

Then we crunched the numbers and it was clear that the underlying assumption of my strategy did not survive the latest price increases and drop in sales.

I began to question, could I have prevented this? What was in my circle of influence, my circle of control? Now, many of these people I’ve worked with are at risk of losing their jobs unless we find a way to bring things out of loss.

To know that the job is to make it all work against all these forces can make staying in and sleeping for the week seem really attractive. Then I think of my colleagues who face the same challenges day-to-day. What’s that we all believe in? “Courageously commit”… right…time to get out of bed.

“Anthony…. there is a problem” I barely heard on my phone over the echoes of conversation and people working in the depot. But I knew it was one of the stock controllers out in the field. “What’s the problem?” “The old stock count form is reporting an over of 3,000 kwacha. When I tried the same numbers in your new program, it’s calculating a short of over 4,000,000 kwacha.” All of the commotion in the warehouse immediately disappeared from my conscious.

“Did I miss a formula? Did I remember to update his database with the latest forms? Is there a typo somewhere? I swear I checked the formulas that calculate the cash totals hundreds of times….” I questioned myself. It took a few seconds of looking at all the angles. Could it be a functional error? I doubted it. Could it be the interface? He didn’t mention anything…

“Hey, when you entered the TOTAL cash received from the shop…”
“Yeah?”
“Did you enter ALL the cash you received or did you just enter the part that’s for veterinary and feed sales?”
“Just the cash for vet and feed.”
“Ok, you’re now supposed to enter all the cash, for vet, feed as well as the pre-payments for day-old-chicks.”
“Ah, that must be it.”

The problem wasn’t functional, it wasn’t the code, or the program, or the stock controller. It was a small change in the stock controller process that I wanted to make. A change I forgot to mention to the stock controllers themselves.

A stock controller and shop manager reviewing counts and cash due

If we are going to expand this business, serve more farmers, and employ more staff, the capacity of management first needs to be able to handle the additional business. Giving the company confidence that they can manage their assets by giving stock controllers the ability to effectively manage more shops with less effort was the underlying goal with deploying a new stock control and reporting system.

There were a lot of things that were already in place that made developing a new database for stock control worthwhile:

  • Staff was mobile, reducing the feasibility for an off-line system
  • Staff are already being trained to use computers and “staff computer training” is on my list of deliverables
  • All staff involved in the stock control process have access to their own computers
  • The current process already had a computer program component at its core
  • Many of the frequent decisions and calculations surrounding stock control are simple and can be automated
  • Management was keen evolve their internal processes
  • Staff “upstream” desired a reduction in the number of forms they receive
  • I was confident we’d be able to develop something within the first few weeks of my placement

Simplified previous-state map of the stock count process

A simplified current-state map of the stock count process

I remember doing one of our initial tests of the new system in Ndola. “You are over by 3,500 kwacha.” “Well, just let me have it then if it’s over” the shop manager said to us. I was still typing in the data in my new database and was wondering where the overage could come. I punched in all the information on all the products including pre-payments for items that weren’t captured before. After hitting enter on the final item, I saw 0, and the box calculating the difference went bright green thanks to some conditional formatting.

“You’re balanced” I said “the extra cash actually belonged to the pre-payments”. “Oh, okay. I’m balanced? I’m getting my free bag of millie meal!” He was excited to be closer to that free bag of pounded maize flower that the shop managers decided they wanted to win if they balanced all their books for the entire month. I congratulated him, said thanks and shook his hand over being balanced without problems and walked out back to the truck.

Being able to better manage and calculate all of the stock, cash and pre-paid vouchers moving in and out of the organization would allow them to reach farther, without increasing overhead. After testing, these databases are now in the hands of stock controllers and they’ve moved completely to the new system.

Time will tell how this impacts their business.

I was pulling out on the gravel road that leads to the main highway outside Kitwe. At my first turn-off I saw women and children walking beside the road. The early morning sunlight just breaking through the thick canopy of the trees made it difficult to see everyone clearly. But I was able to make out their arms fully extended from the shoulder, shaking their open hands up and down at the wrist signaling they wanted a lift.

“Clutch, shift to neutral and brake” I consciously thought to myself, being new to driving a manual diesel vehicle and quickly rolled to a stop beside them. “We are going to the Luanshya turn off” they said. “Aweee-kay” I replied with a smile and thumbs up. In the rear view mirror, I watched as the first group threw the bags from their heads into the back of the pick-up and climbed in. The children pushing themselves up and reaching their feet as far as they could to get over the side walls, almost falling into the trunk shortly afterward.

“Clutch, first gear…” I was thinking to myself until I looked into the rear view mirror again. Squinting, I peered far on the gravel road stretching far behind me, criss-crossed with shadows from the tall trees lining both sides. Silhouettes of children waving away from me was all I saw towards a woman who seemed to be walking as fast as she could towards me. To get a better look I turned to look over my right shoulder… and saw the door frame. “You’re driving on the right side Anthony, look behind over your left shoulder.” I said to myself and turned the other way.

There was the old woman, hunched over by years of working, coming out of the shadows. The women already in the trunk moved around to give space and grabbed the bags that the children were carrying beside her. Stumbling into the back despite being helped by everyone she sat down and I saw a glimpse of relief just before she smiled at everyone else in the back. Two loud knocks on the roof of the cab, and then I began to drive off.

As I released the clutch and stepped on the gas I reached down to the crank on the door and cracked the window a little more open. Laughter and chatter could be heard amongst the sound of rubber tire crushing gravel and the loud whine of the diesel engine. “Oops, need to shift up. Clutch, 3rd gear, gas.”

We were picking up speed on the gravel road, the grass between the two red dirt tracks disappearing faster under the hood. The flashes of sunlight light through the shadows of trees and the clanging of keys against the steering column quickened their rhythms as the road curved eastward. Then, BAM! We broke out of the trees into a pasture and everything in front of me disappeared behind the direct sunlight that now illuminated the thin film of dust that collected on the windshield. After pulling on the arm to the right of the steering wheel and unintentionally signaling a right turn, I flicked on the wipers using the arm on the left side of the wheel and was able to see again through streaks of dirt now smeared across the windshield.

I saw a merger ahead and slowed down looking cautiously through the trees to see if there was a speeding vehicle about to break in front of me. There wasn’t and again I stepped on the gas. “40km/h, 45km/h… 50km/h” the dials read now that I was on the main gravel road. It was wide enough to have two cars side-by-side. Being cold in the morning, I became conscious of the fact that I may be going too fast for those behind me. Glancing at the rear view mirror, I saw that they had tucked the cloths they were wrapped in tighter and were mostly curled more to fight off the cold. The plum of dust grew thicker and higher behind as my speed increased. But the people were all were still smiling though clenched lips and squinted eyes from the dust and looking into the eastern morning sunlight. So far so good.

Continuing on, I was slowly veering the truck to the left and to the right side of the road mindful of being as smooth as possible for those riding in the back. A few times on this route taught me where I need to position myself to avoid the large stones that protruded up from the ground.

Coming up the final hill, we began to see the tops of large cargo trucks speeding past the opening between the tree line ahead of us. We were approaching the main highway. Just before the pavement, I turned off to the side, turned on the hazard signals and parked the truck. Everyone jumped off and the old woman who raced to the truck at the beginning of our journey walked up beside me. Her hunch allowed her to only raise her head slightly above the lower frame of my window. But the size of her smile was unmistakable. She raised her arms high in the air then clasped her hands together in front of her saying “na toe tela, sana” (Literally: I’m thankful, very much). “Aye, em queye. Muyende wino” I shouted back (which, I think means: Sure thing, go well).

I will always remember being out in rural areas, biking or walking those long distances against the wind, against thirst and against those rolling hills. Every time a pick-up truck stopped to lend me a lift, it was a God-send.

That morning, it felt nice to pay the favour forward.

Powered by WordPress. Theme: Motion by 85ideas.