Cutting Turnover by Respecting the Front Line: Mike White on the Road to Secchi

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Overview

Mike White, founder and president of Secchi, sat down at a Milwaukee bar for an episode of Manufacturing Happy Hour to talk about frontline leadership, and about why he thinks tracking data on hourly workers can make them better off rather than more surveilled. Across the conversation White kept returning to one claim: most frontline workforce problems come down to treating people with respect. What has been missing, in his view, is a simple way for supervisors to see and act on how each person is actually doing. He traces that idea from teenage summers running cornfield crews, through HR roles at Johns Manville, Caterpillar, and Master Lock, to the software he now sells.

26 min read

A Bar, a Kia Plant, and the Data Behind Everything

White chose the venue: Pete's Pub on Brady Street, a nightlife street in Milwaukee. He isn't from Milwaukee originally. He grew up among the cornfields and soybeans of central Illinois and is a third-generation University of Illinois alum. He knows the bar because the owner's son plays soccer with his son.

The opening small talk set up a theme that came back later. White said he is struck by how much data runs a bar: how long people stay, how many drinks they order, and the inventory behind it all. In his view that isn't much different from manufacturing. The host remembered working at a dive bar around 2008–2009 that had no such data, and compared it to how old-school much of manufacturing still was then. White agreed. He has been in small shops where he wondered how they made money at all, and in plants that "look like science fiction." His example of the second kind was the Kia plant in West Point, Georgia, which he toured while part of a group bringing Caterpillar to Georgia. It had heavy automation and still a lot of employees working with the line. The bar and the car plant work the same way, he suggested: people make it run, and systems keep track of what happens. The difference is that "a beer is a little bit cheaper than a car."

"We Cut Turnover in Half"

Asked how he would explain Secchi to a stranger at the bar, White gave a one-line answer: "We cut turnover in half." The method is what he calls employee relationship management, backed by data. With the right data, the right leaders, and the right process, he said, customers can reduce turnover within weeks of adopting the software. He presented the simplicity of the idea as the reason it gets adopted easily. At bottom, he said, it is relationship management.

Why the Company Is Named After a Disk for Measuring Water

The name took some trial and error. White first tried "Employee Trail," but a search returned hiking trails and endless generic results about employees. He then settled on the concept of clarity. As he put it, executive leaders often have no idea what is happening on the front lines, and the product is meant to change that.

The name itself came from a friend, Josh, who was bragging about how clear the lake near his house was. That led White to the Secchi disk, named after Angelo Secchi. The disk is lowered into water on a rope, and the depth at which it disappears from view gives a measurement. White pointed out that Lake Michigan and the Gulf can both look "clear" while being very different. Secchi took a vague idea, water clarity, and made it a number anyone could compare.

White sees the same gap in workforce management. An experienced person can walk into a plant and within ten or fifteen minutes sense how the employees are doing. They notice the communication boards, who says hello, who smiles, how people interact, how meetings go. None of that is measured, though. Employee performance, like water clarity, is hard to quantify, and White said Secchi's software lets him select an individual employee and say, with measurable data, whether that person is performing well or poorly.

Why a Tight Labor Market Excites Him

The host brought up something White had said on another podcast: that he is excited about current workforce challenges, even though many manufacturers are not. White explained this by comparing it to the labor market at the start of his career. At Johns Manville, unemployment in his county reached about 10%. A plant could let someone go and immediately bring in someone else, and White described that period as "a race to the bottom." As an HR professional he was teaching leadership and fair, respectful treatment, but he felt the market gave companies no incentive to do those things. He said his own employer treated people well. His broader point was that behavior changes when the market forces it.

Now, he said, "if you have a jerk supervisor on your team right now, good luck," because people will go somewhere else. Earlier, a bad supervisor carried no real consequence, since workers felt they had to stay in a good job. He said he doesn't know how this would ever be measured, but he sees the standard of leadership rising in businesses of every size, including at the conferences Secchi attends.

White connected this to Secchi's purpose statement: "let great workers do great work," which he glossed as getting out of their way. He acknowledged that pay matters and companies must pay a good rate, but said the real question is whether people feel valued. For the past fifteen years he has taught and coached on how to treat people. He used to deliver "respectful workplace training," which he said was really union avoidance training, and privately he called it "be nice to people training." The idea is not complicated, he said, but until there is an incentive it doesn't happen at the same rate.

HR Lessons from a Cornfield

White originally studied education at Illinois Wesleyan and planned to become a teacher. His father is a farmer, and White started working in the cornfields as a teenager, "whenever it was legal and a little before probably." Years later he still listed "detasseling crews" on his résumé when applying to Midwest employers, because it used to be a rite of passage. He worked for a wrestling coach who ran crews, then did cleanup work for his father, who paid by the acre. At about 15 or 16 he partnered with someone old enough to drive. Eventually he and his brother had 80 people working for them.

He said he didn't realize at the time that he was doing HR work. Tired of paying people while they learned what to do and what to wear, he created checklists and then orientation programs that covered most of that before workers were on the clock. His "claim to fame" was eliminating water breaks, which he achieved by providing hydration packs. The father of one of the kids worked at a Bell helmet factory that made them. He and his brother ended up making good money doing good work.

That experience changed his career plans. Entry-level teaching then paid around $24,000–25,000 by his recollection, less than he had been making in the fields. While looking at MBA programs he came across the University of Illinois master's in HR, which advertised a 95% placement rate and an average salary about three times a teacher's. He reasoned that he could always go back to teaching, but might not be able to get back into business. He added that many manufacturers recruit HR graduates from that program.

Johns Manville: Humbled by the Front Line

White's first corporate role, around 2006, was with Johns Manville in the building construction division, which made fiberglass insulation. He remembered celebrating the placement because the division was making so much money that he expected a big bonus. Then the housing market collapsed and the warehouse filled up with insulation.

His early lesson was that most people's problems at work are "completely solvable," and that solving them mostly means treating people with respect. That became one of his leadership principles: everyone is a leader. His example was Larry Barry (that really was his full name, White confirmed), the plant janitor. White said Larry, without realizing it, shaped how White interacted with people. Larry would tell the young HR manager, "that ain't right what you just did." The host compared him to the janitor in The Breakfast Club, the wisest character in the film. Larry has since passed away, and White said the crew still talks about him when he visits Georgia.

His boss Joe, from New Jersey, had worked every job in the plant. White recalled Joe telling him, "We don't stab people in the back in New Jersey, we stab them in the face." Joe also told White he had never worked a day in his life. White protested that he had worked in cornfields. Joe's answer was that White had always had school and a vision of where he was going. He had never done the kind of work where you come in and do the same thing every day, where the company's profits don't affect you, and where the person watching insulation go by doesn't care how much the company makes. White said he can still picture where he was standing because he was so upset, and that Joe taught him respect for the front line. He never hung his degree anywhere, since in a factory there's no reason to.

He was candid about other lessons. He showed up at a plant in the Deep South driving a used Audi, cheaper than the trucks in the lot, and "caught so much heat" for it. More importantly, he said his ego got humbled "over and over and over again." He had assumed a degree meant intelligence, and frontline workers showed him otherwise. He called that one of the best things that ever happened to him, because he had been very cocky.

He also remembered a conversation with the plant's maintenance planner, who told White that while White measured success by education and moving around, he himself had his "house on the hill." At that time, before new plants arrived and land prices rose, land in that part of Georgia was nearly free. The planner could clock out without worrying about the plant, earned more than White, didn't have to relocate, went to church on Sundays, and saw his family every night. Looking back, White said his own measure of success had covered only one side of things. The host added that society is starting to understand what degrees do and don't indicate, and pointed to the respect given to apprenticeships in countries like Germany.

Leading HR Through the 2008 Downturn

The host asked how White handled being a people-focused HR leader during the recession. White said he spent a lot of time Googling other careers. He and a colleague he calls his "HR mom," who taught him how to care for people professionally, became very good at layoffs. They learned how to structure them so employees could maximize unemployment benefits. The layoffs rolled on and on, and he remembered asking himself why he had gone into manufacturing.

The downturn also opened a door. The company ended the leadership development program he had moved to rural Georgia for, which left him without friends or family nearby. A few weeks later, after the HR manager quit, the company put him in that role with no experience, in a 300-person plant represented by the United Steelworkers. White said the company would never have done that otherwise, and he wouldn't do it today. Karen, the plant manager, took him under her wing and "just made me good."

He said today's problems don't compare. Then the question was when the plant would be shut down, as plants closed "left and right." Later he took part in negotiating a shutdown agreement, which he described as four weeks of watching people in pain. Some workers couldn't read, and he worried morally about what would happen to them. The Georgia plant kept running. A New Jersey plant was shut down and, he said, restarted only a few years ago. He admitted he stayed in the field less by design than by grinding it out. The host agreed that finding a job during a downturn teaches you not to take work for granted, and that more downturns will come.

Caterpillar: Hiring 1% of a Community

Around 2012 White moved to a Caterpillar startup plant in Georgia. It was planned for 1,400 people and had about 1,800 by the time he left. His largest plant until then had been 350 people, and he had handled HR for perhaps 500. He said he convinced the plant manager and HR director by pointing to his work with local colleges and technical schools and the culture changes at Johns Manville.

He credited good timing and the State of Georgia, which he praised as easy to do business with, along with strong frontline leader hires and a startup team that set a clear vision for the culture and talked about it openly. The hiring pace was intense. It started at 24 people every other week, then became weekly, and at one point a manager told him that if he didn't hire 300 people he wouldn't have a job within a month. With an area population around 120,000 at the time, he said they were hiring about 1% of the workforce, so the leadership team spoke at community events whenever it could. Keeping people once they were hired depended on strong frontline leadership and relationships. White admitted that sounds cliché, and said the plant had high engagement scores. He also said that caring about people while hiring that fast, and keeping track of all those relationships, was a real challenge.

He described a strong sense of purpose on the leadership team. Community projects that had been on hold got approved because more people now had health insurance, and the local hospital added a building. White was careful to say he doesn't know that the plant caused this, "but it didn't hurt." Many hires came from small shops where people got jobs through family connections, and White had to explain that "hire my son" isn't how big corporations work.

Comparing the two employers, White said Caterpillar's advantage was centralized, well-funded systems for training. About 20 of roughly 250 management employees transferred from other Caterpillar plants and brought those systems with them. Johns Manville had systems too, but they were less centralized. The downside was bureaucracy. To use a weld screening test for hiring about 300 welders, with help from the State of Georgia, he had to convince roughly 12 people at Caterpillar that it wouldn't be discriminatory or invite lawsuits. It took six to eight months. At Johns Manville, he estimated, three approvals would have done it. The benefit was efficiency and resources once a decision was made, and the leadership team tried to keep the bureaucracy invisible to frontline employees.

From an Access Database to a Company

White said the idea for Secchi began at Johns Manville. Supervisors complained that HR wouldn't let them get rid of bad employees. White's answer was that they needed to do their documentation, and they told him it took too long. Wanting to make it easier, he worked with others to build a Microsoft Access database for coaching and discipline records. It worked for its original purpose: with documentation in place, they could remove poor performers, and according to White engagement "skyrocketed," because "nobody wants to work next to somebody that's lazy." They later added coaching and recognition. His takeaway was that if you make processes easy for supervisors, they'll do the right thing. He contrasted that with typical HR processes that are hard to follow.

Years later, at Master Lock in Milwaukee, the company came out of union negotiations facing grievances that cost money. White didn't want to say how much, but attributed it to poor documentation. In one dispute over an employee with a severe attendance problem, he was facing Tony Rainey, a union representative he named because they are now friends. White described Tony as one of the people who "can really do the job." White asked for a sidebar and admitted Tony was winning the argument. He agreed to bring the employee back but said they needed to keep the problem from recurring. All the while he was wishing he still had the old database.

Back at his parents' farm, he called Melinda, who had filled his old role at Johns Manville. She told him they were still using the database, which by then had spread to about ten plants, some 13 years after he built it. White reasoned that if old technology had lasted that long, adding 15 years of experience could produce something much better. As a Master Lock director he couldn't build it on company time, so he quit. He summed up the change in the product's purpose: he had built a tool to fire people, and once recognition was added it became a tool to retain them.

How Frontline Workers Respond to Being Tracked

The host asked how frontline employees feel about a system that records data on them. White pointed to recognition. Secchi measures "connections," including recognitions, and he said recognitions on the platform doubled in November. User numbers hadn't doubled, and he attributed the jump to Thanksgiving and people feeling grateful. Employees receive a text message through the platform thanking them for something specific.

He told a story about an early adopter, a logistics company with about 700 employees. White asked the CEO whether he knew an entry-level employee named Bill, and was surprised that he did. The company had systematically lost two pallets, and Bill had gotten them back into the system, told the whole team, and gotten them to the customer. White asked when the CEO would next visit Fort Worth. In two weeks, the CEO said, and White suggested he shake Bill's hand and thank him. White's point was that this kind of executive visibility into individual contributions drives engagement: "is Bill ever going to leave?"

White said customer feedback turned the product into what he now calls a complete culture development tool. An executive visiting a plant can see a photo of each person, how many days they've missed, what they've been coached on, and what they've done well, broken down even to the machine or process level. He called it "unprecedented transparency" for executives.

Data, Teamwork, and Courage

White explained the three company values listed on his LinkedIn. Data is there because people don't usually associate employee relationship management with data. Leaders get described as "good" or "great" on feel. White wants people decisions driven by data, with the administrative work taken away. Manufacturers are data-driven, he said, so the fit is natural. Teamwork ties to an internal principle, "everyone's a leader," which means listening to everyone. You don't have to act on everything, but you can learn something even from your worst employee, and you'd better be learning from your best.

Courage, he said, is about bold decisions. White said he never had trouble getting a "seat at the table" in HR. In selling to HR, though, he has found that many HR people know how wasteful their processes are but lack the courage to propose changes. He is frustrated when prospects say they already have an HRIS or that their time clocks handle it automatically. "They freaking don't," he said, and offered to come to any plant for free and process-map it to show that relationship-building isn't happening automatically. Courage also means trusting a young vendor. He described Secchi as about two years old and about one year operational. It also means trusting supervisors to lead. When people tell him supervisors won't use the tool, he says he hasn't had an adoption problem with supervisors, because the product makes their lives easier.

Why Traditional Performance Reviews Fail on the Floor

White was blunt about performance reviews for hourly staff. The idea that a frontline leader with 40 direct reports writes meaningful reviews that employees care about is, in his words, "foolish." He told another humbling story from Johns Manville. He built what he thought was a great review process and rolled it out at a supervisor meeting without asking for their input. The supervisors, he said, essentially threw the paper back at him. Each review meant an hour of setup and an hour getting the employee off the floor, and any issue that came up would then mean more meetings with HR.

His simplified version of hourly performance management is four questions. Did you show up on time and on schedule? Did you do something great? Did you do something wrong? That's it. He noted that manufacturing leaders carry notebooks, or keep notes on their phones or in OneNote, as the host pointed out. Secchi aims to pull attendance, positive events, and problems onto a single sheet, which White described as a 12-month calendar view showing an employee's whole year at a glance, based on recorded data rather than impressions. He said one customer's supervisor told him it saved hours and hours of work, and White added that the result is defensible because everything is documented. He stressed that Secchi is not an HRIS. No operations manager wants an HRIS with "50 clicks," he said, and Secchi is an employee relationship program built for ops leaders.

Are We Entering the Age of the Frontline Worker?

White answered "100%" and made a football analogy. In the 1990s the stars were running backs like Emmitt Smith, Marshall Faulk, and Thurman Thomas. Now teams often rotate several backs, and offensive linemen get recognition too. He mentioned Joe Thomas, a Wisconsin grad he said is a friend of one of Secchi's co-founders and was recently inducted into the Hall of Fame. In manufacturing, White said, the front line has been the offensive line: underappreciated, grinding every day, hitting problems and fixing them. The "quarterback" in the front office has to pay more attention to them, and a winning team wants the smartest line it can get. The host, a former St. Louis Rams fan, added Orlando Pace from the "Greatest Show on Turf" era.

White argued the trend has been underway for more than 20 years. His simplified view is that GE's Six Sigma was good project management that mostly meant listening to frontline people, and lean manufacturing meant the same. Now there are events where high school graduates put on plumbing and manufacturing hats instead of college ones. He said a great process tech can be more valuable than a degreed manager. HR, he admitted, "can be pretty replaced pretty dang easy," but someone who can run the melter or weld on three different machines has specialized skill that takes time to develop. He expects wages to move that way, which he sees as generally good.

He added a caveat. He values a respectful workplace over the highest pay. At Caterpillar's legacy plants he saw workers paid so well they couldn't leave, and he felt sorry for those who hated coming to work and felt stuck. He acknowledged inflation may have changed that picture since.

Looking Two to Three Years Ahead

Asked for a prediction, White said that based on the demographics he has read about, he doesn't expect the workforce itself to change much. Automation, which he sees advancing fast at trade shows, will drive productivity, and AI will play a role too. He predicted that critical thinkers who once would have been pushed toward college will instead weigh the debt of, say, an English or journalism degree against staying home and working with their hands. He expects skilled process techs, especially in Milwaukee, to be paid more than HR roles. He also predicted that AI will eliminate many management roles that "are just pushing paper," which will lead some people to reconsider tech school or apprenticeships. The host added that technology has made these jobs more appealing than even five to ten years ago, and that they are effectively tech jobs now.

White described how frontline careers can move. When maintenance arrives, the first thing they do is ask the operator what's going on. An operator who knows the answer is likely to be promoted soon. Companies will pay to train anyone with even basic mechanical aptitude and will try to hold on to them, which, he noted, is where Secchi comes in.

He recalled growing up in a blue-collar town near Champaign where his rich friend's dad was a plumber. The plumber told him he could find someone on every corner who could write a paper, but hardly anyone who could fix a toilet. White applied that to the office. Entry-level analysts, marketers, and financial analysts are easy to find. Someone who can fix a machine, let alone program one, is not. He said he is curious how that will play out as office work becomes more automated.

The Results Claim and the Closing Line

White ended with a customer result. A Fortune 500 customer in a large metro market, with a facility of about 400 people and what he called minimal market changes, implemented Secchi. Comparing February through July year over year, from 2022 to 2023, the facility lost 68 fewer people than the year before. White was open about attribution. The customer credits Secchi with a large impact, and he joked that "according to me" it was all 68, while "according to them maybe I'm 60." He called $4,000–5,000 per turnover a cheap estimate and put the implied savings at well over half a million dollars, plus the gains from keeping people. The host reckoned the figure represented roughly 15–20% of the workforce.

What stays with him most, White said, is something a customer told him: "Don't let your bad employees chase off your good ones." Rewarding and recognizing the right behaviors isn't complicated, in his view. The hard part is getting everyone coordinated, and Secchi's aim is to simplify that to "two clicks to value." He invited listeners to request a demo, saying that as an ops guy he'd rather show than tell. The host closed on that line about bad employees chasing off good ones.