I once inherited a quality team that leadership viewed as a marketing checkbox - visibly important for audits - useful for customer decks - largely disconnected from day-to-day operations. That perception was the real problem.

Quality doesn’t live in binders or badges or hiding in an office - it lives in processes, behaviors, and decisions made on the floor every day. So instead of defending the function, I redefined it.

I transitioned the team from “quality” to Operational Excellence. That meant shifting from inspection to prevention. It meant an effort to build excellence into the frontline. From audit prep to process ownership. From compliance after the fact to discipline built into operations.

The team became embedded with manufacturing, supply chain, operations, facilities, and customer service. They owned standards, root cause, continuous improvement, and accountability - not just scores.

The results followed.

What had been seen as a marketing gimmick became a world-class operational capability, delivering world-class outcomes. AIB audits of 980, SQF audits with a score of 99, ISO audits with zero non-conformities.

The biggest win wasn’t the certifications. It was the shift in mindset. Quality stopped being something we showed. It became something we did.

That’s what happens when quality isn't treated as branding - but is treated as leadership.

For most of my career, I’ve been “the guy.”

Not the one with the flashiest title. Rarely the loudest voice in the room. You know the guy, right? The one people call when things get complicated.

The one who can cross departments without friction - operations, supply chain, manufacturing, finance, sales, customer service, compliance, marketing, human resources, tech - I’ve lived in all of them.

I learned how to build bridges where silos existed. How to translate when teams were speaking different languages. How to be the glue when growth, pressure, or change threatened to pull everything apart.

Being “the guy” means accountability without excuses. It means seeing the whole system, not just your lane. It means stepping in when ownership is unclear and staying until it’s fixed.

That role doesn’t always get the spotlight. But it’s the reason companies scale, teams trust each other, and results actually stick.

If you’ve ever been that person - the connector, the stabilizer, the one who makes it work - you know that being “the guy” isn’t about ego. It’s about responsibility. I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything.

Most retention problems in operations aren’t people problems - they’re system problems.

And too often, they’re treated as an HR problem - when HR isn’t actually embedded in day-to-day operations.

In one organization, HR's idea of onboarding was giving the employee a badge and making sure paperwork was complete. This generic onboarding approach and hands-off support left managers stretched thin and new hires overwhelmed. Performance varied by site, and retention suffered.

My team built an ops-specific training and retention program, owned by operations. It included role-based onboarding with clear 30/60/90-day expectations. Training was tied directly to safety, quality, and service - not theory. Managers were trained to coach and give feedback, not just fix problems. Performance standards became visible and measurable.

Training became part of the operating rhythm, not a one-time event.

The result:
Employee Net Promoter Score Improved by 80%
Faster time to productivity
More consistent execution
Stronger frontline leaders

The lesson:
Retention doesn’t improve because HR cares more. It improves when operations takes responsibility and builds systems that help people succeed.

Most retention problems in operations aren’t people problems - they’re system problems.

And too often, they’re treated as an HR problem - when HR isn’t actually embedded in day-to-day operations.

In one organization, HR's idea of onboarding was giving the employee a badge and making sure paperwork was complete. This generic onboarding approach and hands-off support left managers stretched thin and new hires overwhelmed. Performance varied by site, and retention suffered.

My team built an ops-specific training and retention program, owned by operations. It included role-based onboarding with clear 30/60/90-day expectations. Training was tied directly to safety, quality, and service - not theory. Managers were trained to coach and give feedback, not just fix problems. Performance standards became visible and measurable.

Training became part of the operating rhythm, not a one-time event.

The result:
Employee Net Promoter Score Improved by 80%
Faster time to productivity
More consistent execution
Stronger frontline leaders

The lesson:
Retention doesn’t improve because HR cares more. It improves when operations takes responsibility and builds systems that help people succeed.

I keep seeing organizations invest heavily in new tools - software, dashboards, AI - hoping they’ll magically fix performance. But tools don’t create results. People do.

You can have all the tools, but without the training they are worthless. I’ve watched teams get overwhelmed by systems they were never properly taught to use. The outcome is predictable - low adoption - workarounds - frustration - missed value.

Real transformation doesn’t come from buying the next shiny solution. It comes from teaching people why the tool matters. It comes from showing them how to use it effectively. It comes from giving them time to practice and ask questions. It comes from holding leaders accountable for capability and not just implementation.

Before investing in another tool, ask a harder question. Have we invested enough in the people expected to use it? Because the best tool in the world is useless in untrained hands.

I keep seeing organizations invest heavily in new tools - software, dashboards, AI - hoping they’ll magically fix performance. But tools don’t create results. People do.

You can have all the tools, but without the training they are worthless. I’ve watched teams get overwhelmed by systems they were never properly taught to use. The outcome is predictable - low adoption - workarounds - frustration - missed value.

Real transformation doesn’t come from buying the next shiny solution. It comes from teaching people why the tool matters. It comes from showing them how to use it effectively. It comes from giving them time to practice and ask questions. It comes from holding leaders accountable for capability and not just implementation.

Before investing in another tool, ask a harder question. Have we invested enough in the people expected to use it? Because the best tool in the world is useless in untrained hands.

How do you gauge your ability to communicate? When problems occur do you look at communication in your search for answers? When two team members are not getting along - how do you handle that?

Here's my approach. I use two identical sets of Legos to teach a lesson on communication. Two people sat across from each other. A screen blocks their view so neither could see what the other is building.

Round one:
One person gives instructions.
The other followed them exactly.
No questions allowed.
After 30 pieces, the screen is removed.
The result? Badly off. Technically compliant. Practically wrong.

Round two:
Same setup. Same pieces.
This time, the builder can ask questions.
The result will be dramatically better. Usually close. Sometimes nearly perfect.

Round three:
We remove the screen.
They build together.
Both can give direction. Both can ask questions.
The final build will be spot on.

The lesson is simple - one-way communication creates compliance, not alignment. Questions aren’t inefficiency - they’re accuracy. Collaboration beats instruction every time. If you want better outcomes, don’t just give clearer directions. Create space for questions. And when possible - build together.

During my career, I've been good at expanding the table. For me this is inviting the next layer of leadership to meetings were decisions are made. I would counsel those invited to take advantage of the invite. They were given ground - don't give it back - earn the seat and get invited to the next meeting.

I'd tell them that they do not earn the seat at the table once. They earn it every meeting. Being invited isn’t the finish line - it’s the starting point.

Earning your seat is: showing up prepared, not just present; understanding the decision that needs to be made; bringing insight, not narration; challenging assumptions respectfully, knowing when to speak and when to listen.

Titles might get you into the room but credibility keeps you there. The people who consistently earn their seat don’t try to dominate the conversation. They elevate it. They add clarity, reduce noise, and help the group move forward.

If you leave a meeting and no one’s thinking differently because you were there, that’s feedback - even if no one says it out loud.

Every meeting is another opportunity to earn the seat again.

I start my day before most people come online. Not because I’m trying to “outwork” anyone- but because quiet is a competitive advantage.

Before the pings, the meetings, the Slack messages, and the fire drills, there’s space to think - to plan - to decide what actually matters today instead of reacting to what is loudest.

That early window is where priorities get set. It's where trade-offs get thought through. It's were decisions get clearer.

Once the day gets noisy, you’re managing inputs. Before it does, you can design outcomes. It’s not about waking up early for the sake of it. It’s about protecting uninterrupted thinking time - however that fits your schedule. Because the quality of your day is often decided before the first meeting starts.

I stared at the screen today with nothing clever to say. No insight. No lesson. No “hot take.”

So this is the post.

Not every day produces wisdom worth sharing. Not every moment needs to be optimized for engagement. Sometimes the most honest thing you can say is that you’re still thinking.

Work happens in the quiet spaces too - between decisions, between posts, between certainty and clarity.

Today’s post is about not having one.

Every January, my feed fills up with New Year’s Resolutions.
New year, new you. New habits. New mindset. New buzzwords.

So, in the spirit of the season, here are a few of my resolutions:
- I resolve to not pretend January 2nd is “business as usual” when half the org is still on PTO.
- I resolve to stop calling the same old initiative a “transformation” just because we added a slide with arrows.
- I resolve to finally finish a strategic plan before the market changes again (ambitious, I know).
- I resolve to ask “what problem are we actually solving?” before approving another spreadsheet or dashboard.
- I resolve to not be shocked when Q1 forecasts don’t survive their first encounter with reality.

And my personal favorite:
- I resolve to stop believing that this year will be less chaotic than the last one.

Because if supply chain has taught me anything, it’s that plans are temporary. Disruptions are forever.

Happy New Year to everyone confidently setting goals they’ll be forced to revisit by February.

As the year wraps up, it feels mandatory to post a “Year in Review.” So here we are.

This year was a masterclass in making plans - and then immediately changing them. Assumptions aged like milk. Priorities shifted. And just when things felt stable, the universe reminded me that confidence is not the same thing as certainty.

A few highlights (and humbling reminders) -
“Just one more quick change” is never just one more. The best strategy deck still loses to reality by Tuesday. Urgent things will always try to impersonate important ones. Transparency saves time. Silence creates meetings. Lots of meetings (have I told you how much I hate meetings?). And leadership is less about having the answers and more about owning the outcomes - especially when the answer was wrong.

The real win this year wasn’t perfection (that was never on the table). It was working with people who stayed accountable, adaptable, and occasionally sarcastic enough to keep things fun.

Heading into the new year, I’m not chasing resolutions or buzzwords. Just clearer thinking, fewer “fire drills,” better questions, and teams that trust each other enough to say, “This isn’t working - let’s fix it.” Oh and lesser meetings - because if I have not said it enough - I hate pointless meetings.

Grateful for the lessons, the people, and the reminders that progress rarely looks clean in real time.

See you next year.

2025 saw a seismic shift in the impact of geopolitics on Supply Chain. It was always present but it became far more magnified this year. Major changes in global trade and industrial policy had ripples that greatly impacted businesses and consumers. Nations mandated domestic sourcing and production while tariffs became a bigger disruption than most would have expected.

As supply chain professionals, we often talk about resilience, risk mitigation, and visibility - but these developments highlighted something deeper. The geopolitical dimension of supply chains is no longer theoretical - it’s operational. Some of my takeaways from this past year - geopolitical strategy influences sourcing decisions.

This isn’t just about tariffs or trade disputes - it’s about national and international industrial policy reshaping the architecture of where and how products get made. Diversification matters more than ever.

Companies reliant on specific regions or single suppliers for critical inputs now face heightened risk. Strategic diversification is a competitive differentiator. Visibility and agility are a must. When sourcing teams can see supplier risk early and have contingency playbooks ready, the organization can move faster and with more confidence.

Collaboration with government and industry partners is a must. Often the smartest supply chain strategies happen with policy shifts.

My takeaway? Think beyond optimization - think sovereignty, resilience, and strategic partnerships. In 2026 and beyond, supply chains will be shaped not just by markets but by policy and purpose.

As the year comes to an end, I’ve been reflecting. Each day on something different. Something that mattered. Something that was meaningful. Today's is about people.

I still take calls and texts from people I worked with - some that worked for me - some that worked beside me - some that I worked for - and some that I have known outside of professional life. Those are interactions vary greatly. Sometimes it’s advice on a tough decision. Sometimes it’s encouragement during a hard season. Sometimes it’s just checking in. Sometimes it's career advice. Sometimes it's just someone to listen.

The companies have changed. The roles have changed. The connection hasn’t. Mentorship, friendship, partnership doesn’t end when you stop working together. If anything, time strengthens it. Without agendas or org charts, what remains is trust, shared experience, and a genuine willingness to be there for one another.

As the year closes, those conversations are a reminder of what lasts. The real measure of leadership shows up long after the work is done - in the relationships that continue, year after year.

One of the most overlooked safety risks in a warehouse is right in front of us every day - the racking.

Bent uprights. Missing pins. Impact damage from forklifts. Loads stored higher or heavier than the rack was designed to handle. These things tend to blend into the background - until they don’t.

Racks aren’t just steel and bolts. They’re load-bearing systems that directly protect the people working beneath and around them. When their integrity is compromised, the risk isn’t theoretical. It’s immediate.

Paying attention to racking means regular inspections, clear weight ratings, prompt repairs, and the discipline to take locations out of service when something isn’t right. It also means training operators to understand that a “small hit” isn’t small at all.

Warehouse safety isn’t only about PPE and procedures. It’s about respecting the infrastructure that holds the operation together - and making sure every employee goes home the same way they arrived.

I once worked with a CEO who was determined to pursue a customer that required full manufacturing, R&D, sourcing, and deep technical expertise - capabilities our organization simply didn’t have.

The leadership team was aligned in advising against it. We were clear about the gaps, the risks, and the reality of what it would take to execute well. The message was consistent - this wasn’t a fit.

But the pursuit continued anyway. Months passed. Time, energy, and credibility were spent trying to bend the organization into something it wasn’t. Eventually, the opportunity was walked away from.

The cost wasn’t just internal. The potential customer lost valuable time they couldn’t get back. And our organization lost something harder to recover - integrity. Saying “yes” when you know you can’t deliver is far more damaging than saying “no” early and honestly.

Leadership isn’t about chasing every opportunity. It’s about knowing who you are, what you can truly do well, and having the discipline to walk away when it’s not aligned.

Coming back to work after the holiday can be tough. The inbox is full. The calendar is suddenly crowded. The quiet from a few days ago is gone.

Operations start humming again - returns to process, inventory to reset, plans to execute.

There’s always a moment of reset - where reflection meets reality and finishing strong means one more week until a new year.

No big speeches needed. Just sleeves rolled up, priorities clear, and teams getting back into rhythm.

Here we go.

Christmas Day.

For one day the world pauses.

Merry Christmas!

Christmas Eve in supply chain feels different.

The factory floor is quiet. The warehouse sounds are of hushed voices. Forklifts parked. Conveyors still. Dock doors closed that, just days ago, never stopped moving.

That silence is not emptiness. It’s the result of weeks and months of planning, long shifts, and controlled chaos finally giving way to calm. Out on the roads - the last deliveries are still being made. Drivers finishing routes. Packages finding their destination just in time.

No spotlight. No applause. Just commitment. This is the moment most people never see. When the noise fades and the work is done. If you’ve worked a warehouse floor or supported logistics during peak season, you know - that quiet is earned.

To the teams who planned, manufactured, picked, packed, loaded, dispatched, and delivered - this calm is your victory lap.

Merry Christmas Eve to everyone in supply chain.

A few years ago, I was given what I believe to be the ultimate compliment - "you are a disruptor."

Being a Disruptor doesn’t mean being loud. It means being contrarian. One of my personal core values is Being Contrarian. Not for the sake of disagreement - but because progress rarely comes from nodding along with “the way it’s always been done.”

In operations and supply chain, the default answer is often "That’s standard.” “That’s how the system works.” “Everyone does it this way.” And my personal favorite (sarcasm), "That's how we've always done it."

Being contrarian means asking: Should it work this way? Who benefits from this process? What problem are we solving or what are we protecting?

Disruption doesn’t always look like tearing things down - sometimes it looks like challenging assumptions that no longer fit the business - questioning metrics that reward activity instead of outcomes - saying the uncomfortable thing early (before it becomes an expensive issue later).

Contrarian thinking isn’t about ego. It’s about responsibility. It's not saying it in a harsh way or in a demeaning way. If you see a better path and stay silent, you’re not being aligned, you’re being complicit.

The best leaders I’ve worked with don’t want agreement. They want clarity. They want someone willing to push back with data, experience, and intent.

That’s how real disruption happens. Quietly. Thoughtfully. Relentlessly.