Going The Extra Mile

Dale Carnegie, renowned for his love of strawberries and cream, famously said, "I didn't bait the fishing hook with strawberries and cream. Rather, I dangled a worm or grasshopper in front of the fish and said: 'Wouldn't you like to have that?'" This philosophy resonated with us as we returned from our company visit, delved into our analysis, and embarked on creating a final presentation. Our foremost challenge was ensuring our recommendations were grounded, feasible, and tailored to appeal to our client. We had identified numerous areas for improvement, but our goal was to deliver structured, constructive advice rather than an unguided stream of ideas. Hence, the mantra “Remember the client's perspective” became a guiding principle throughout our solution development. 

At the same time, we aimed for our recommendations to be both authentic and equitable. Sugarcoating someone's ego would be of no benefit to us as consultants or to the business at large. Additionally, we felt a deep sense of moral responsibility toward the workers who had entrusted us with their stories under the cloak of anonymity. Our solutions had to combine a genuine desire to improve their lives, ensuring that the recommendations we offered were not only business-savvy but also ethically sound. 

This blend of practicality and morality was put to the test as we navigated the personality dynamics between our team and the client. Throughout our interactions, the client was exceptional, treating us well and providing comprehensive information. Having worked with various consulting clients, I can assert that the company's cooperation was beyond reproach. However, despite this positive relationship, we couldn't ignore the distinct environments we each navigated. While I engaged in discussions about the role of intelligence in 21st-century warfare at SIPA, attending lectures by Hillary Clinton and interning at the UN's Innovation Cell, the Founder managed a multi-million-dollar startup facing immediate, tangible challenges like repairing broken machinery or tackling logistics to meet shipment deadlines. This contrast was crucial to acknowledge, as the last thing we wanted was to offer lofty, detached recommendations. We remained vigilant against our biases. 

As the project progressed, we strived for clarity and specificity in our recommendations, addressing four key areas: Labor Management, Worker Health, Operations, and Communication. For instance, in discussing Communication, we didn't just suggest technological improvements; we demonstrated specific tech software and its practical application. When tackling worker safety, we didn’t stop at general suggestions; we provided examples of safety manuals, and names of audit companies capable of further assistance, and outlined the costs involved. Our approach to external certifications was equally hands-on, guiding the client through the certification process and associated costs. This focus on practicality underpinned all our recommendations. Moreover, we categorized them into short-, medium-, and long-term objectives, complemented by a "next steps" section to ensure the actionability of our advice. Admittedly, there were moments when our emphasis on practicality seemed excessive, but I preferred the client to leave with a clear understanding of tangible steps, rather than vague notions of "improving workers' lives." 

In the vibrant world of consulting, the flavor of teamwork can often make or break a project. Working on the project, I was part of a team that was phenomenally easy to work with, a blend of compassion and ambition that you’d rarely find even in the most seasoned groups. Picture this: almost every time I proposed pushing the envelope a bit further, they'd respond with an enthusiastic "Let's do it!" It was as if they had this endless reservoir of energy. And on the rare occasions when I stumbled, they were right there, not to point fingers, but to lend a hand. 

Fast forward to the presentation day, a day that felt like the final round of a gourmet cooking show where we presented our meticulously prepared dish to the judges. The presentation went on smoothly and the feedback we received was nothing short of exceptional. I was beyond thrilled to hear that our hard work had paid off. 

But what truly made my day was the client's reaction. 

In a remarkable display of humility and eagerness to improve, the client accepted our critique and suggestions. This openness to change was especially notable, as pointed out by my Mexican colleague. She emphasized how rare such a deep attitude for workers’ wellbeing is in Mexico, which, like many developing countries (including mine) values economic progress, sometimes at the expense of workers’ wellbeing. So instead of the defensiveness or arrogance that could be expected from a pragmatic businessman, we saw a concerned community member who (at least) promised to start the implementation as soon as possible. 

But the real twist came post-presentation. Our professor, who had been quietly observant throughout, had a follow-up call with the Founder. The feedback was great but in an unexpected way. The aspects of our presentation that we thought would impress were actually different from what the Founder appreciated most. It was like preparing a spicy salsa and finding out the guests loved it for its sweetness. 

Nonetheless, this journey, from the streets of Monterrey to the final presentation, was more than just a business endeavor. It was a cultural deep dive, a lesson in humility, and an exploration of the unexpected. It reinforced the idea that in the realm of business, especially in a startup's dynamic environment, surprises are just around the corner. 

Looking back, I realize how this entire experience was a rare beast in the world of business and academia. It was like finding a golden ticket in your chocolate bar—exciting, rewarding, and utterly unique. The project was not just about hazelnut spreads and sustainable business models. It was about people, cultures, and the power of a team that believed in going the extra mile. And if I had to do it all over again? I wouldn't change a thing.