The Returning Factory Manager
“The factory manager has returned!”
The words spread like wildfire throughout the entire factory in an instant.
The women working on galosh rubber suddenly tossed down their tools and rushed outside.
They surrounded Golitsyn, the factory manager, and each one grabbed his hands, their eyes brimming with tears.
“Manager! Where did you go? We’re so glad you’re back!”
“How worried we’ve been about you?”
“Are you all right? Your face looks like it’s been through the wringer…”
“It was half like that to begin with?”
“Well, it is, hee hee!”
“Hoo hoo… Marsha, and Liza. You two haven’t changed a bit.”
Golitsyn took each of the women’s hands in his own.
And called out their names one by one, pouring out the long-reunited affection of the years.
I watched this scene from a distance.
A factory manager was usually seen as the embodiment of the bourgeoisie who oppressed and ignored the proletariat.
But Golitsyn was different.
To the women workers, Golitsyn was not a exploitative boss, but a comrade who provided a shoulder to lean on.
Since this was a sight not expected from someone who had once been the highest authority under the Tsar, I felt even more affinity for him.
***
The typical power structure in a factory was factory manager > production supervisor > foreman.
But our factory was different.
“… You don’t need to address me with such formality, Comrade Golitsyn.”
“Hoho, this old man likes it when you use the formal address. It’s comfortable.”
The nominal highest decision-maker was the factory manager, but Golitsyn respected the opinions of me and the foreman Ivan, and especially always prioritized my opinion on any matter.
Especially after I learned that thanks to my contributions, the Third Galosh Factory had become a testing ground for innovative technology.
“First, we need more women workers in the factory, Manager.”
“Hmm? Are the ones we have now insufficient? Sixty is the largest scale since the Empire period when this factory was built.”
“We received a budget much larger than expected. Since we got it, we should use it to the fullest.”
A separate special fund was allocated for the Science and Technology Ministry’s projects.
The scale and expenditure procedures were set by the Collegium of the Science and Technology Ministry, then approved by the Council of People’s Commissars, and in this process, Professor Pavlosky seemed to have exerted quite a bit of influence.
“Could you tell me how much we received…?”
“Approximately 250,000 rubles.”
“Th-thirty thousand?!”
Golitsyn’s eyes bulged.
If I roughly estimate the scale, our women workers’ average annual salary is about 216 rubles, so it’s enough to hire roughly another 1,200 people.
It was indeed a huge amount.
“Svanidze, supervisor… That’s enough budget to build an entire new factory.”
“Of course, it wasn’t all received at once. It was promised once a year for five years total. The amount also varies yearly depending on performance.”
Out of the total execution budget of 250,000 rubles, 50,000 rubles was scheduled to arrive by the end of this month.
The Science and Technology Ministry seemed to plan verification over five years.
But five years was too long a time.
Time was not on our side.
There were infinitely many things that needed to be done in the turbulent early 1920s.
At least next year and the year after, the Soviet Union would face three major events.
And in 1928…
“NEP must end officially and Stalin’s heavy industry development must begin in earnest. At least, I need to achieve some meaningful results before that.”
“Still, really… It’s surprising that our factory has been pulled into the Science and Technology Ministry, and with a special budget. How fortunate to live long enough to see this…”
“This is just the beginning, Comrade Golitsyn, Factory Manager. If we want results, you’ll be busier than ever.”
Of course, I had no intention of being satisfied with just achieving results.
“Hoho… Using this 76-year-old body to work. Strange. I sense Nikolai’s halo from Supervisor Svanidze.”
What? Nikolai 2?
Truly a counter-revolutionary idea.
***
Golitsyn, three days after returning, set out to find the people who had left the factory during his absence.
Especially since he knew all the women workers’ names, he asked if he could hire preferentially those who had left due to difficult circumstances.
“Of course. It’s actually what I wanted to ask you for.”
I readily accepted his proposal.
Originally, hiring was the factory manager’s domain, so I thought it unnecessary to ask me.
“Really? You’d allow that?”
But Golitsyn showed a face of surprise.
He seemed to have the opposite idea from me.
“Well… Anyway, aren’t they people who have worked in this factory? It’s much better to use those who came back than to hire new ones and train them from scratch.”
If kindness and self-interest align in the same direction, there’s no reason to refuse.
Golitsyn smiled faintly at my answer.
In conclusion, he brought back 22 skilled workers to the factory.
Among them, the woman with the shortest career had 11 years, so Golitsyn had indeed brought precious talent.
“This old body has walked every back alley of Leningrad. At Natasha’s house door, he waited half a day. This old man said, ‘My lady, the factory has risen again. Your place is still empty. Please, help this old man.’ So Natasha cried and said, ‘Oh, I didn’t know the factory manager would come personally… What am I… snivel…!’ So this old man replied, ‘Oh, you’re the core talent of the factory, what are you saying!’ Then he cried again…”
“Mom, when did I ever say that? I just had no choice because the factory manager grabbed my husband’s pants and wouldn’t let go all day.”
… Golitsyn the factory manager was surprisingly talkative.
Anyway, with the 22 skilled workers brought by Golitsyn and the women workers who applied after hearing about the labor recruitment for the innovative technology factory, the number of women workers, which was 15 when I first took over, quickly surpassed 100.
The factory’s landscape changed.
Clang, clang.
Women cutting rubber with a gear machine to make it easy for galosh rubber weighing and Soviet work (Mastication).
Women applying wheel to add sulfur accelerator and compounding agent to the cut rubber.
Women working the rubber on a calender called waltz at 50-60 degrees to complete the compounding.
And… women making galoshes in the workshop.
Previously, there was no one to do all this at once, so waiting time was long, but now there were enough people for division of labor.
Moreover, it wasn’t just the number of workers that increased.
Technically, quite a bit of innovation had been made: the new toluene adhesive dried slower than benzene, giving women plenty of time to attach soles, and the chemical odor was less piercing than benzene’s, making it much easier to handle.
The women workers’ eyes sparkled when they heard they would use toluene adhesive instead of benzene from now on.
Golitsyn’s joining was a great help.
Surprisingly, he was a master of Soviet work, delivering the natural rubber at the optimal temperature and time to the women.
As a result, the galosh rejection rate dropped from 23% to 16%.
More people, innovation in technology, fewer defects.
These three factors overlapped, and production volume increased noticeably.
“Svanidze, supervisor! It’s amazing!”
The next day, as soon as I arrived at work, the foreman Ivan rushed to me with the ledger.
“Last week it was only three hundred pairs, right…?”
“Yes! Even that was barely filling the quota after including all the defective ones!”
“But now we produced 1,800 in just one day?”
Ivan counted on his fingers.
“Hahaha!!! Yes! It’s an incredible increase! At this rate, we’ll definitely produce 30,000 pairs in two months!”
There was new vigor in Ivan’s voice.
The factory manager’s return and exceeding production.
He looked satisfied with that.
“Good morning, Supervisor Svanidze!”
The early women workers greeted me.
I replied and closed the ledger, then toured the factory interior.
If it continued smoothly, we could produce 30,000, no, 50,000 pairs easily.
But that was just barely blocking the excuse made by the trust to send me to Siberia.
“It’s just that I haven’t died, it doesn’t mean I won against Zinoviev.”
“After all, 30,000 is not enough.”
“… Huh?”
I turned to the foreman Ivan.
“Foreman Ivan. Do you plan to be satisfied with this as is?”
“…….”
The foreman Ivan, who had been looking bewildered, seemed to catch something from my words and smiled.
“No. Since we started, we have to finish it, Supervisor!”
We began to pour all our efforts into increasing production for the remaining period.
And time passed, and finally the deadline of July 25 approached.
“… Supervisor. Final production tally.”
The foreman Ivan handed over the ledger with trembling hands.
Inside was the number of galoshes produced over the past two months.
Actually, even calling it two months, considering the period of expanding factory facilities, bringing in Golitsyn and skilled workers, and procuring toluene adhesive and natural rubber, the actual production period was less than a month.
Thus, the total production from our factory, excluding defects…
A staggering 155,610 pairs.
400% over achievement.