Helping with Adventurer Party Management - Chapter 253

As a result of gathering ideas from the craftsmen to further shorten the schedule, the work timeline is reduced to 55 days.

“It seems like we can manage,” Sara says, sounding relieved.

In theory, it certainly looks feasible to meet the deadline. This alone marks significant progress from the initial situation. However, completing nearly two months’ worth of work without any mistakes or delays is impossible. Therefore, as a manager, I need to consciously differentiate between tasks that absolutely cannot be delayed and those that have some leeway.

The critical tasks include shoe manufacturing. Any delay in shoe production would lead to a delay in overall delivery. The other tasks can be classified in the earlier puzzle as ones that can be completed beforehand. Even if the procurement of wooden boxes or oils is delayed by a day or two, it wouldn’t impact the overall delivery schedule.

The tasks that fall into the former category are referred to as the critical path. The shorter the duration of the tasks on this critical path, the shorter the overall delivery time can be.

Of course, using such terminology does not resonate with the craftsmen, so I need to think of a simpler way to explain.

“Take another look at this puzzle. There’s a part where the longest task connects, right?”

In the wooden puzzle I use, all the tasks that belong to the critical path are visually concentrated to show the connection of a single task. In a standard workflow, tasks are categorized by department, but this form prioritizes clarity over that.

“If the task at this wooden piece gets shorter, the overall delivery will be shortened. You can see that, right?”

When I say this, the craftsmen, who have now become puzzle experts, nod.

For the craftsmen, experiencing the entire picture of work while physically engaging in it proves to be a very profound experience.

I continue my explanation.

“Therefore, we must not make any mistakes or delays on this task. If you think we might fall behind, please ask for help from me or those around you. I want everyone to have the awareness that this task takes priority.”

As I look around, the craftsmen nod in agreement.

“Alright, let’s get to work!”

With that signal, they spring into action, heading toward their assigned tasks.

◇　◇　◇　◇　◇

I return to the office and begin preparing to issue the request for gathering the foot sizes of the clergy. Since the adventurers taking on this task come from peasant backgrounds, it would be disastrous if I just leave it to them.

We have to come up with a system to increase the accuracy as much as possible before making the request.

As I make notes on the board about the checking system, the shape and arrangement of the tools to take the footprints, etc., Sara speaks up.

“Hey, Kenji, even if we gather foot sizes from 100 priests in this town, we won’t reach 300 including those from another town, right? What will we do about that?”

I see. Since the people in this world likely haven’t received any statistical education, I realize this is a shortcoming in my explanation.

I try to explain using an example that will pique Sara’s interest as much as possible.

“You like soup with meat in it, right?”

“Huh? What’s with that all of a sudden? Of course, I do! It’s delicious!”

“When you check the taste of the soup, do you think it tastes different when you scoop it with a big spoon from a large pot versus a small spoon?”

“That’s the same!”

“Why is that?” When I ask, Sara crosses her arms and thinks for a moment before answering.

“Because it’s soup; the taste of the salt and meat inside is the same no matter where you scoop it from.”

“That’s right. If it’s a well-mixed soup, it should taste the same no matter where you scoop.”

“Right? So how does this relate to shoes?”

In response to Sara’s question, I explain. “Let’s think of the soup as a group of people. In this kingdom, there must be thousands of priests, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t know for sure, but there might be that many.”

“That’s the big pot of soup. Whether you scoop out enough for 300 people with a large spoon or 100 people with a small spoon, the taste should be the same, right?”

“…Yeah, I wouldn’t turn priests into soup, but I can see how it could feel the same.”

“In other words, measuring the foot sizes for 100 people is equivalent to having measured them for 300.”

“That’s right. I see, that’s right…. Am I being fooled?”

I laugh aloud. “I wouldn’t trick you; after all, our lives are at stake. The same goes for the Guardian’s shoes, where they measure the foot sizes of rookie adventurers. The shapes and sizes of human feet don’t vary much if they live similar lifestyles. Farmers have one type of foot, warriors another, and priests yet another. People who go barefoot tend to have wider feet with thicker soles, while those who don’t walk much will have thinner, narrower feet with lower arches. I used the taste of soup as an analogy to explain this concept. So, if we measure the foot sizes of 100 priests, we can grasp the overall trends regarding what sizes we need to make. This way, we can produce the shoes without needing to measure the feet of all 300 priests, right?”

“…Kenji, you really know some weird stuff.”

Sara compliments me in an exasperated tone for what seems like the umpteenth time.