Full Download Operations and Supply Chain Management For The 21st Century 1st Edition Boyer Solutions Manual
Full Download Operations and Supply Chain Management For The 21st Century 1st Edition Boyer Solutions Manual
Full Download Operations and Supply Chain Management For The 21st Century 1st Edition Boyer Solutions Manual
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LEARNING OBJECTIVES
1. Define the meaning of quality.
2. Explain why it is necessary to improve the quality of goods and services.
3. Define the components of quality in goods and services.
4. Summarize the history of quality management.
5. Summarize the teachings of quality gurus W. Edwards Deming, Philip Crosby,
Armand Feigenbaum, Kaoru Ishikawa, Joseph M. Juran, Genichi Taguchi, and
Walter Shewhart.
6. Describe commonly used quality management approaches, such as total quality
management (TQM), the ISO 9000 and ISO 14000 standards, and the Malcolm
Baldridge Criteria for Performance Excellence.
7. Describe the Six Sigma quality management approach and the steps in
implementing it.
LECTURE OUTLINE
I. Defining Quality
Quality is the ability of a product (a good or a service) to consistently meet or exceed
customer expectations.
i. Ability refers to the competence, either native or acquired, that enables one to do
something well.
ii. Consistently refers to a reliable or steady pattern of performance.
iii. Expectations refer to a state of anticipation about a future outcome.
Operations and Supply Chain Management for the 21st Century 9
Discussion Starter
Refer to the opening vignette. For the credit card itself, the application and approval
process, the billing process, and the customer service process, what are the quality
characteristics (such as amount of time on hold on the telephone) that matter to you as a
customer? Note that some of these are mentioned in the vignette and some are not. Many
are given in the second to fourth point above.
Discussion Starter
Ask students to recall the times when they were managed in a top-down, directive fashion
versus when they were given some objectives along with latitude in how to act. Which did
they find more motivating? What are some quality-related outcomes of having motivated
employees?
A Tale.
BY
HARRIET MARTINEAU.
LONDON:
CHARLES FOX, 67, PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1832.
CONTENTS.
1. Novelty 1
2. Pastime 18
3. Discussion 29
4. More Novelty 45
5. Observing at hand 62
6. Observing afar 70
7. One for Himself 87
8. Consequences 108
9. Each for All 118
FOR EACH AND FOR ALL.
Chapter I.
NOVELTY.
The season was more than half over, and was about to be
pronounced remarkably dull, when a promise of novelty was given
out in the shape of a rumour that lord F—— and his lady, who had
been travelling abroad from the day of their marriage, had arrived in
town, and that the bride’s first appearance would take place at the
Duke of A——’s ball on the 20th. This information was circulated in
various forms of words, all bearing a relation to what lady F—— had
been before she was lady F——. At the clubs, in the shops, in
drawing-rooms and boudoirs, it was related that lady F——’s debut
would take place on the 20th. Her first appearance on a new stage,
—her return from a tour in the provinces,—her first night in a new
character, all were referred to the 20th, in a manner which should
prevent any one forgetting that lady F—— had quitted a profession
on her marriage. The curiosity was not confined to mothers and
daughters, to whose observation an extraordinary marriage is the
most exciting circumstance that life affords: in this case, the interest
was shared by their husbands and fathers. Some wondered how the
proud old earl would stand the introduction of his daughter-in-law
into his own society; and others, who had told lord F—— that he was
a lucky fellow to have won such a glorious creature, speculated,
notwithstanding, on the awkwardnesses and difficulties which must
hourly arise from the choice of one so far below him in rank. He was
an odd personage, however,—lord F——; and there was no telling
how he would think and feel on occasions when everybody else felt
alike. On the whole, greater sympathy was expressed for his sister,
lady Frances, who was more likely to be mortified,—who certainly
was more mortified at the connexion than the rest of her family. Her
father was understood to have insisted on her making the best of the
affair, since it could not be helped; but, whatever her outward
demeanour might appear, it would be too hard upon her to suppose
that she could do more than barely keep on terms with a sister-in-law
who had been on the stage. A solitary voice here and there
reminded the speculators how it was that lady F—— had adopted a
profession, and asked whether the connexion would have been
thought very preposterous if she had been known only as the highly
educated daughter of an eminent merchant; or whether the
marvellousness of the case rested on her father’s misfortunes, and
her choice of a way of life when he was no longer living to support
and protect her: but these questions met with no other answer than
that such a marriage was so very strange an one that the
speculators longed to see how all the parties carried it off; though, to
be sure, such beauty as lady F——’s went a great way towards
making the thing easy;—almost as far as her husband’s
carelessness of the opinion of the world.—Meanwhile, who had seen
her riding in the park? Was she more or less beautiful than on the
stage? Was lady Frances with her? Who had called, and who had
not? How was it to be the fashion to treat her? And so forth.
How much did all this signify to lord and lady F——, to the earl,
and to lady Frances? The bride fancied little, and feared nothing.
She had been conversant with many ranks of society, and had found
them all composed of men and women; and she never doubted that
in that with which she was about to become acquainted, she should
also have to deal with men and women. Her husband guessed what
speculations were going on, and did not care for them. The earl also
knew, and did care, as did lady Frances; but they disposed
differently of their anxieties; the earl repressing them in order to the
best disposition of circumstances which he could not prevent; his
daughter allowing them to fill her mind, appear in her manners, and
form a part of her conversation with her intimate friends.
Lady F—— and her husband dined alone on the day of the Duke
of A——’s ball. As the bride entered her dressing-room, she met her
lady’s-maid fidgeting about near the door.
“O, dear, my lady,” said Philips, “I am glad you are come. I was
just going to take the liberty of venturing to send Thérèse, to remind
your ladyship how very late it is growing. It would scarcely be justice,
either to myself or your ladyship, to cramp us for time in our first
toilet; and I was not able so much as to lay out your dress; for
Thérèse was so idle, I find, as not to have ascertained what your
ladyship intends to wear.”
“I have been so idle as not to have made up my own mind yet,
Philips. There is abundance of time, however, if you are no longer
dressing my hair than Thérèse and I shall be about the rest.”
Philips immediately looked very solemn; and though the toilet
lamps were duly lighted, and all was ready for her operations, she
stood with her arms by her side, in the attitude of waiting.
“Well, Philips, I am ready.”
“Will you please, my lady, to send Thérèse and her work
elsewhere? It cannot be expected that I should exhibit my ways so
as a mere novice may supplant me any day, my lady.”
“This is Thérèse’s proper place, and here she shall stay,” replied
the lady. “However, she shall read to us; and then, you know, she
cannot be a spy upon your doings.”
Thérèse read accordingly till the hair was dressed. At the first
pause, Philips observed that she must brush up her French, her
fluency in which she had lost from having missed the advantage of
visiting Paris last year.
“Thérèse will be obliged to any one who will talk with her in her
own tongue, Philips. Suppose, instead of having fancies about
supplanting one another, you make the best use you can of each
other, since you must be a good deal together.”
“I will do my best, I am sure, my lady, to instruct the girl in all that
relates to her own sphere, without encroaching on mine. I will do my
best to reform her dress, which really bespeaks her to be a green-
grocer’s daughter, if I may venture to say so. But as to dressing hair,
—allow me to appeal to lady Frances whether it can be expected
that I should disseminate my principles out of my own sphere.”
“See who knocks, Thérèse.”
The earl and lady Frances were below, and lady Frances would be
particularly glad to speak to Mrs. Philips, if not engaged with my lady.
Mrs. Philips, at her lady’s desire, went to receive her late mistress’s
commands, and Thérèse enacted the lady’s-maid, as she had done
from the time she had left Paris in lady F——’s train.
“Come, Thérèse, let us have done before anybody arrives to
criticise us novices. How nervous you look, child! What is the
difference between dressing me to-day and any other day?”
“There is no toilet in travelling, madame,—no fêtes like this; and in
the inns there was so much less grandeur than here. I have not been
educated to serve you, like Mrs. Philips, or to live in a great house.—
I am more fit to sew for you, madame, or read to you, than to help
you instead of Mrs. Philips.”
“I do not want two Mrs. Philipses, you know; and as for the
grandeur you speak of,—if we do not find it comfortable, we will have
done with it. What have we too much of,—of light, or of warmth, or of
drawers and dressing boxes, or of books? You like old china, and I
like old pictures, and here are both. Which of all these things do you
wish away?”
“O, none of them, I dare say, when I grow used to them: but they
are so little like my father’s house! I felt the inns very grand at first,
but they are bare and tarnished, compared with what we have here.”
“Yes. You would have been glad of such a rug as this under your
feet in those cold rooms at Amiens; and I should have liked such a
mirror as this instead of one so cracked, that one half of my face
looked as if it could not possibly fit the other. I see much to like and
nothing to be afraid of in rugs and mirrors.”
“You, madame, no! You are made to have the best of everything
come to you of its own accord; and you know how to use everything.
You....”
“And yet, Thérèse, I was once as poor as you, and poorer. If I
know how to use things, and if, as you say, they come to me of the
best, it is because I think first what they were made for, and not what
they are taken as signs of. If, instead of enjoying the luxuries of my
house, I were to look upon them as showing that I am lady F——, I
should be apt to try to behave as people think lady F—— should
behave; and then I should be awkward. Now, if you consider all the
pretty things you have to use, not as pointing you out as lady F——’s
lady’s-maid, but as intended to make me and my little friend
comfortable, you will not be distressed about being unlike Philips:
you will know that I had rather see you the same Thérèse that I
always knew you.”
“O, madame, this is being very good. But then, I cannot feel as
you do, because there is more occasion for me to think about the
change. There is my lord to take off your thoughts from such things;
he is with you in every new place, and you see how accustomed he
is to everything that is strange to you.”
“That does make some difference certainly,” said the lady, smiling,
“but then you should consider how many more new places and
people I have to make acquaintance with than you. Except Philips, or
two or three of the servants below, you have nobody to be afraid of,
and I am never long away. You will feel yourself at ease in one room
after another, and with one person after another, till you will learn to
do all your business, and speak all your thoughts, as simply and
confidently as you once watered the salads in your father’s shop,
and made your confession to good old father Bénoit.”
Thérèse sighed deeply, as she finished her task and withdrew to
the fireside, as if no longer to detain her lady about her own affairs.
“I have not forgotten, Thérèse, about finding a confessor for you. I
am only cautious lest we should not observe exactly your father’s
directions.”
“Madame—they are so very particular!—that the priest should be a
devout man, and very old and experienced in the confession of girls
like me.”
“I know; and we thought we had found such an one; but he has
forgotten almost all his French, and you could hardly confess in
English. But make yourself easy; your conscience shall soon be
relieved.—Good night. Philips will sit up.... More work, do you want?
—You may give Philips a French lesson. O, you have read all these
books. Well: come with me into the library, and I will find you more.”
On the stairs they met lord F——.
“Where are you going, Letitia? Frances is closeted with Philips in
the library.”
Thérèse immediately stole back to the dressing-room; but before
the carriages drove off, she was furnished with a fresh volume
wherewith to be occupied when she should have made tea for Mrs.
Philips and herself.
The earl had dreaded lest he should find Letitia nervous at the
prospect of the formidable evening she was about to pass. His visit
was meant to reassure her, and she understood the kindness of the
intention, and showed that she did. When lady Frances came in from
her conference with Philips, she found them side by side on the sofa,
—Letitia quiet and self-possessed, and the earl regarding her with as
much admiration as kindness.
“I am sure you may be obliged to me for giving up Philips to you,”
said lady Frances to Letitia. “She has dressed you beautifully to-
night. Is not she a treasure?”
“A great treasure to you, Frances,” said her brother, “so pray take
her back again. Letitia has one treasure of a maid in her dressing-
room already, and it is a pity she should rob you of yours.”
“Indeed it is,” said lady F——. “Philips’s accomplishments are
thrown away upon me, I am afraid. If you will allow her to give my
little French girl a few lessons, I shall be just as much obliged to you,
and shall not deprive you of your servant.”
Lady Frances protested; but her brother was peremptory, to her
utter astonishment, for she had never known him speak of lady’s
maids before, and would not have believed that he could ever learn
one from another. She did not perceive that he did not choose that
his wife’s beauty should be attributed to the art of her toilet.
Not the slightest trace of trepidation was observable in the bride
when she alighted from her carriage, when her name was shouted
up the staircase, or when all who were within hearing turned to gaze
as she entered the crowded saloon, leaning on the arm of the earl.
There was something much more like girlish glee than fear in her
countenance; for, the truth was, Letitia had a taste for luxury, as all
simple-minded persons would have, if their simplicity extended as far
as a disregard of the factitious associations by which luxury is
converted into an incumbrance. Having been early accustomed to so
much of it as to excite the taste, then deprived of it, then baulked and
tantalized with the coarse and tinsel imitation of it which had met her
during her short professional course, it was with lively pleasure that
she now greeted the reality. The whole apparatus of festivity inspired
her with instantaneous joy:—the bowers of orange and rose trees,
light, warmth and music together, the buzz of voices, and above all
the chalked floor,—all these set her spirits dancing. A single glance
towards her husband told him enough to have placed him perfectly
at ease respecting the affairs of the evening, even if he had been a
man who could be otherwise than at his ease. He knew perfectly well
that it was impossible for any one of good sense and taste not to
admire and respect Letitia, and he cared little under what pretence
others might depreciate her accomplishments.
“Lady F—— is the star of the night, as every one is observing,”
said an old friend of the earl’s, who was absorbed in watching the
dancers, among whom was Letitia. “The brightest star, we all agree,
and shining as if in her native sphere.”
“This is her native sphere,” replied the earl. “She is in her own
sphere wherever there is grace, wherever there is enjoyment.”
“True: so young, so simple as she appears! She seems perfectly
unspoiled.”
“Perfectly. She has gone through too much to be easily spoiled.
Change,—anything more than modification—is impossible in her
case, do with her what you will. You are an old friend, and I have no
objection to let you see that I am proud of Letitia.”
“I am truly glad.... I felt uncertain.... I did not know....”
“Nor I till to-night,” said the earl, smiling. “But I find I have no more
wish than right to question my son’s choice.”
“But you must expect the world to criticise it.”
“Certainly. If my son acts so as to imply contempt of conventional
marriages, there will be contempt cast on his marriage of love. If
both parties carry off their contempt inoffensively, both are welcome
to their opinions.”
“Well! there are many here whose parents have had occasion to
use your philosophy, or some other to answer the same purpose.”
“Lady F—— is the star of the night,” observed lady Frances’s
partner, gazing at Letitia through his glass. “Peerless indeed!”
Lady Frances made no answer, which emboldened the gentleman
to proceed.
“The star of the night, as she has often been called, and never
more justly. Never, in the proudest moment of her glory, was she
more lovely.”
Still lady Frances was silent.
“Perhaps your ladyship feels this to be the night of her glory; and,
indeed, it is a triumph to have risen, through her own radiance, into a
higher sphere.”
“I question whether she feels it so,” replied lady Frances. “Letitia is
very proud, and her pride takes rather an odd turn. She would tell
you that she considers it a condescension to come among us, who
are only born to our station.”
“Surprising! And what inspired her condescension?”
“O, love, of course; pure love. Nothing else could have prevailed
with her to submit to marriage. You should hear her talk of the
condition of wives,—how she pitied all till she became one herself.
You cannot conceive what poor slaves she thinks them.”
“And what says lord F——?”
“He is fired by her eloquence. You have no idea how eloquent she
is. She pours it out as if....”
“It was in her heart, as well as by heart. How will she keep it up,
now she has no practice?”
“They will have private theatricals down at Weston, I have no
doubt.”
“I beseech your ladyship’s interest to get me invited. It will be such
a new thing to see lord F—— on the stage. Of course he will play the
heroes to his wife’s heroines. Whatever may have been hitherto, he
will scarcely like, I should think ... he is scarcely the man.... Faith! if
she is proud and high-spirited, as you say, she has met her match.”
Lady Frances smiled; and as she was led away to supper, assured
her partner that nothing could be pleasanter than the terms they
were all on with lady F——; for she was, after all, a noble creature;
which information was received with a deferential bow.
In every group of talkers, lady F——’s merits were canvassed.
Some ladies would give any thing in the world for her courage, till
reminded by their mammas that she had been trained to self-
confidence, when they suddenly became contented with their own
timidity. Others would have supposed her not out of her teens, by the
girlish enjoyment she seemed to feel; but these were reminded that
this kind of scene was as new to her as if she had not been seen
and heard of in public for nearly four years. Everybody agreed that
she was beautiful, and very amiable, and astonishingly simple, and
conducting herself with wonderful propriety: and everybody admired
the good-natured earl’s manner towards her, and wondered whether
it was lady Frances’s own choice to come with her, and conjectured
what lord F——’s happiness must be to witness his bride’s flattering
welcome to the rank he had given her.
Lord F——’s happiness, though as great as these kind friends
could wish, was not altogether of the character they supposed.
“You have enjoyed yourself, Letitia,” he observed, as they were
going home in the grey of the morning, and when she made the first
pause in her remarks to let down the glass, as a market cart, laden
with early vegetables and flowers, passed for a few moments
alongside the carriage.
“How sweet!—O how sweet those violets are!” she exclaimed, as
a whiff of fragrance was blown in. “Enjoyed myself! Yes,—it is a new
page,—quite a new page of human history to me.”
“Your passion is for turning over such pages. What next?”
“If I had a market-woman’s cloak and bonnet, I should like to step
into that cart and go to Covent-Garden, to see the people dressing it
up against sunrise. I should like, some morning, to go into the city
when the sun is just touching the steeples, and see life waken up in
the streets.”
“I wonder you did not stand in the door-way to-night,” said her
husband, smiling, “to see the contrast between speculating life on
the pavement and polished life in the saloon.”
“I saw enough, without standing in the door-way,” replied Letitia,
gravely. “It was more different than I had supposed from something
of the same kind that I had seen often enough before. I had seen the
great and the humble throng about our theatre doors; but then there
was room for each, though far apart. All went to share a common
entertainment,—to be happy at the same time, though not side by
side. Here there were peers within and paupers without; careless
luxury above, and withering hardship below. This is too deep a page
for my reading, Henry; and not the easier for my having been in both
conditions myself.”
“Why wish then for more experience, till you have settled this
matter?”
“Because we cannot tell, till we have tried, what we may find in
any matter to throw light upon any other matter.”
“Suppose you should find all wrapped in darkness at last, as Faust
did when he had gratified his passion for experience.”
“Impossible,—having Faust before me for a warning. He kindled
his altar fire from below when the sun was high, and he let
somebody put it out when both sun and moon were gone down.
Where was the use of his burning-glass then? How should he be
otherwise than dark?”
“True; but how would you manage better?”
“I would never quit stability for a moment. Faust found out that the
world rolled round continually. He jumped to the conclusion that
there was no such thing in nature as a firm footing, and so cast
himself off into perdition. If he had taken his walks in God’s broad
sunshine, he would have found that the ground did not give way
under him, nor ever would, till he was etherealized enough to stand
on air.”
“So instead of speculating on the incompatibilities of human
happinesses, and concluding that there is no such thing as a
common welfare, you would make trial of all conditions, and deduce
the summum bonum from your experience.”
“Yes; that is the way; and if you would help me, the thing would be
done twice as well. If we were each to go a pilgrimage through the
ranks of society, (for we would settle the affairs of the moral world
before we began upon the natural,)....”
“Very reasonably, certainly,” replied her husband, smiling, “since it
is easier to get into palaces and hovels, than into thunder-clouds and
sea-caves.”
“Well;—if you began at the top and I at the bottom, if we were to
meet in the middle, I do think we might see how all might dance
amidst fragrance and music, and none lean starving on the frosty
area-rails. You should be king, minister, peer, and so on, down to a
tradesman; and I would be a friendless Italian boy with his white
mouse, and a pauper, and a cotton-spinner, and a house-servant,
and so upwards, till I met you at the tradesman’s we spoke of.”
“My dear, why do you put yourself at the bottom instead of me?”
“Because you would be longer in learning what to make of poverty
than I. I know a good deal about it already, you are aware.”
“Since we cannot rove up and down as we will through the mazes
of society, Letitia, we will do what we can by varying our
occupations. Variety of research may partly stand in the stead of
migration from rank to rank.—You spoke at random, just now, of my
being minister. What would you say if I were to become a servant of
the crown;—that is, in other words, a servant of the people?”
“That I would serve you,—O how humbly, how devotedly!—as the
servant of the people,” cried Letitia, colouring high. “You know....”
“I know that in marrying me you dreaded, above all things, falling
into the routine of aristocratic idleness. I know that you felt it a
sacrifice to surrender your public service and influence; and this is
one reason among many, Letitia, why I should like to accept office;—
that you might espouse another kind of public service in espousing
me. But here we are at home. I shall be able to tell you more after
dinner to-morrow than I know at present of this matter.”
Letitia’s experience of this day was not yet over. She found it very
painful to be undressed by a yawning, winking lady’s-maid; and she
resolved that her engagements should never more deprive Mrs.
Philips of her natural rest, however lady Frances might teach Mrs.
Philips herself to laugh at the absurdity of a lady of rank troubling
herself to lay aside her own trappings.
Chapter II.
PASTIME.
DISCUSSION.
Week after week the steward sent reports from Weston of the beauty
of the place, and the high order it was kept in for its lady’s approval,
and the impatience of the tenants and the villagers for my lord and
lady’s arrival. Week after week did friends and acquaintance leave
town, till it became what the inhabitants of Westminster call a desert,
though it would still puzzle a child to perceive the resemblance
between it and the solitary places where lions await the lonely
wayfarer. Week by week did Mrs. Philips expatiate on the delights of
watering-places, and the charms of the country, and the
intolerableness of town in the summer,—and still neither master nor
mistress seemed to dream of stirring. “A few weeks in the autumn!
Was that all the change they were to have? And how were they to
exist till the autumn, she should like to know?” Lady F—— was so far
from wishing that Philips should not exist, that on learning her
discontents, she took immediate measures for forwarding her to her
dear lady Frances, more than half of whose pleasure at Brighton had
been spoiled by her having no one to manage her toilet on whose
taste she could rely as a corroboration of her own. The day which
saw Philips deposited in a Brighton coach brought ease not only to
herself, but to those who lost, and her who gained her. Philips was
certainly right. Her talents were not appreciated in her new home;
and she would indeed never be able to make anything of her new
lady. Like other persons of genius, mere kindness was not enough
for Philips; she pined for sympathy, congeniality, and applause, for
which London affords no scope in the summer season.
How Thérèse sang as she watered her lady’s plants, that day!
How many confessions had she to pour forth to her old priest of
feelings in which he traced incipient envy and jealousy, but in which
she acknowledged only fear and dislike! How long a letter did she
write to her father to inform him of her promotion to Mrs. Philips’s
place, and consequent increase of salary;—of her intention to take a
few lessons in hair-dressing, now that she could afford it, and felt it
to be due to her mistress; and how happy she should be, when this
duty to madame was provided for, to send money enough to put
Annette to school, and perhaps even to place a new hot-bed at her
father’s disposal!—How charming a variety was made in the
household by a passing visit from the earl! And how pleased he
looked when, on popping his head in at the library-door, late one
evening, he found Letitia acting as secretary to her husband, looking
over books, making notes, and preparing materials for a reply to a
deputation which was to wait on him the next morning.
“I hope you like hard work as well as you thought you should,” said
he, laughing. “Have you begun to think yet of petitioning for a more
equal division of it,—for a multiplication of places?”
“Heaven forbid!” exclaimed Letitia. “A multiplication of places now,
when there is such an outcry against places and placemen! It would
be as much as our lives are worth.”
“And, what is more to the purpose,” said lord F——, “it is
unnecessary. It matters little that it is the fashion to mix up in
ignorant minds the odium of holding a sinecure, and the honour of
filling a laborious office;—it matters little that all the people have not
yet learned to distinguish the caterpillars from the silk-worms of the
state; for they will soon learn to hold the servants of the nation in due
honour. Meanwhile, all that we want is a more equal distribution of
the toils of government.”
“All that we want, son! It is much to want. What an absurdity it
seems that a nobleman should, from having merely his private affairs
to manage, be suddenly burdened with the responsibilities of an
empire;—a burden, under which how many have been crushed!
Again, there is your old school-fellow, lord H——, yawning half the
day on the pier at Brighton, and airing his horses the other half, while
you are sitting here, pen in hand, from morning till night.”
“I have no objection to it, sir. It has been a serious grievance to
me, ever since I returned from my travels, that I had nothing better to