I get an unsolicited email from someone inquiring if I am interested in a job. I get one or two of these annoying emails a week – some through the blog, but mostly through LinkedIn. My response was a flat “no”. That was October 2010.

Two weeks later, he emails again and gives me a song and dance about a down to earth company and all that. He mentions that it is located in a city that I would like to live in. So, I simply tell him I would be interested in learning more.

A month goes by, and I get yet another email from this guy asking why I want to leave my current employer. “I don’t. You contacted me,” was my response.

Out of the blue, I get a phone call on a Saturday. From his Mommy. It was another month later. Turns out, she is the HR Director. This is not a processing and quoting job opportunity as it was put to me. Hell no. This is a chance to build a die shop organization from scratch to support this company’s stamping operations – an opportunity I have been preparing and waiting for during the past 20 years.

I am interested.

After being pressured to get over there to talk, I agree to chat. And we did.

I had a short list of follow-up questions that went unanswered for two weeks, so I call to get the status. “So and so is out of town. Will get it to you next week. By the way, we think there is a strong fit here.”

Feeling was mutual. I was born to do that job.

Another month goes by, and I get a call from Momma. “Still interested, but need more time.”

Fine.

Four weeks later (I am tired of typing month here) I call to find out what is going on. Keep in mind, HR people are highly trained professionals. Polished and diplomatic, yet direct and emotionless.

“Hi. This is Tim Ste-”

“What do you want?”

This is one of the few times in my 45 years that I have been at a loss for words.

After a 10 second pause, she says, “Let me rephrase that. Why are you calling?”

“It has been a month since we last spoke. I was calling to get an update on the opportunity we spoke about.”

“We are growing by leaps and bounds. What position are we talking about exactly?”

I went into shock. A blue screen of death for my mind. And they say the best way to kill brain cells is to drink. Well pour me a tall one – it is going down the hatch to mercilessly kill a few million more. Let God sort them out, I always say.

So, that was that. The end of another dream job. At least this time, it was over before it began.

On a brighter note, a new and improved author will be taking over Die Guy here in a few weeks – stay tuned for some exciting stuff.

The dies that were designed and built up until 1992 were over-engineered and over-built.

For the next decade, I feel the die standards were competitively adequate.

I no longer feel that way. The standards have not significantly changed in nearly two decades.

While I am flattered that my ideas stood the test of time, I believe the die standards today are outdated.

I am disappointed that the standards have not evolved. They are fundamentally the same as they were when they were published in 1992.

The goal with die standards, in my opinion, is to guide decisions.

Die standards are not intended to be a paint-by-numbers approach to engineering.

They are not a step-by-step recipe.

Die standards are not to connect-the-dots.

They are not a bible to be followed until the end of time.

The intent is guide decisions of the die engineer and provide predictability on the architecture of the tool.

Period.

The automotive industry could save 30 – 60% on their tool bill with another revolution.

The casting construction is too heavy by a factor of 2X.

There are better materials on the market, like Carmo, Caldie, and Vanadis-type tool steels for the advanced high strength steels being stamped today.

The list goes on and on.

Bottom line is the standards are old and it is costing the automakers billions.

While employed by an automotive OEM company in 1993, I was recruited to assist with a business process reengineering effort conducted by an outside consulting firm.

My contribution to the endeavor at a macro level was to stop doing what Alfred Sloan created and do what Billy Durant would do if he were alive: run the car business like the soft drink business. Let me explain.

Soft drink companies like Pepsi and Coca-Cola make two things, and two things only: marketing and syrup. That’s right, syrup.

They do not make the bottles. They don’t make the cans. They don’t even mix the syrup with water and pour it into the bottle or can. Independent companies do this for them.

The syrup is the product design. Water is water, and cans are simply transportation vehicles for the product.

Roger Penske recently purchased Saturn from General Motors. He is quoted as saying:

“The proposed acquisition marks the beginning of a new business model in this industry,” he wrote, “a model in which the distribution side of the business controls the brand, and manufacturing is conducted by one or more sub-contractors.”

Now, if only the other automotive companies would follow Penske’s lead, the industry as a whole would be better off. Workload would have a chance to be leveled at the manufacturing site. Economies of scale would increase utilization while reducing costs.

And, a fundamental shift in the business model like this would lead to another idea I have been preaching for a long time: build the vehicles on demand.

There will come a day when a customer walks into the showroom, test drives a vehicle, and orders it to their specifications. The vehicle would then be built on demand and delivered to the customer’s home in 24 hours.

Ok, maybe 48.