Playing eCat roulette

I was driving home the other night in my pickup when I noticed that switching on my left turn indicator caused both lamps to flash.
I was driving home the other night in my pickup when I noticed that switching on my left turn indicator caused both lamps to flash. The next morning, I called my friend "Don," who runs a repair garage. He told me to stop by and that it wouldn't take long to fix.

I explained my situation to Don, who then called the major program group that supplies his parts. Much to his shock, the counterman said the flasher was a dealer part. I took exception, as it was for a 1999 Ford Ranger. Don agreed, but reiterated that was what the counterperson had said.

He called another store, which said it would send the part right over. Just by chance, the regional sales manager for the first outfit we had called walked into the shop. We told him what his counterman had said, and he was clearly embarrassed.

The sales manager promptly called the catalog expert at the regional warehouse. While he was on the phone, the delivery driver from the competitor arrived with the part. Don immediately noted that the OEM part had six prongs and the replacement part had only five.

We all agreed that it probably wasn't the right part. I asked the delivery driver if the electronic catalog (eCat) had a notation about only needing five prongs, and she looked at me like I asked her for the square root of 279. Don told her to return it, and she gladly left.

The sales manager from the first operation was still on his cell phone. After a while, he asked to see the OE part, and he started reading the numbers cast in the plastic and printed on the outside. He finally barked into his phone, "Well, call me back when you find something."

Don then announced he was going to visit the city's largest supplier's regional warehouse, and I offered to drive. When we arrived at the warehouse, one of the countermen asked to see the part I was holding. He started keying the OE numbers he found on the part itself, each attempt followed by an expletive. He suggested that we try the one with five prongs.

The guy at the next terminal was randomly entering part numbers he found on one system into another terminal. "I'm playing what I call catalog roulette," he said. "This system doesn't let me see pictures, so I input different numbers close to the one with the five prongs to see if I can find the one with six prongs."

A third guy was looking at an installer application trying to identify the part by OE. "It appears to be the right part, but it doesn't say anything about this sixth prong," he said.

I said I assumed the part we were looking for was somewhere in the warehouse, but we just couldn't find it in the computer. His response was swift and decisive. "I guarantee you it is," he said, adding this happens almost every day.

Driving home, I tried to add up the wasted hours and lost productivity of this incident. I thought of how much progress has been made to our electronic parts catalogs in the past 20 years, then started pondering how useless that is when the data is wrong or missing. I thought of all the technology brought to bear on my problem that morning — as I rolled down my window and stuck my arm out to signal a left turn.

Bob Moore is president of Bob Moore & Partners, a consulting firm that specializes in the automotive aftermarket. Moore can be reached at [email protected].

About the Author

Bob Moore

Bob Moore is a partner in the consulting firm J&B Service that specializes in the automotive aftermarket.  Moore who chairs the SEMA Business Technology Committee and is a member of the SEMA board of directors, can be reached at [email protected] or follow him on Twitter @BobMooreToGo.

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