Everyone has a style, and by that I don’t mean the clothes you wear or the way you cut your hair. By style, I mean this: Let’s say you have a broom in your hand and need to put it away. Some of us will just open the closet and shove it in anywhere it will fit. Others will precisely set the broom in its designated place, preferably in a snappy holder specifically designed for that purpose.

In some things, this can make all the difference.

I recently toured a factory in Switzerland with a group of journalists investigating robotics and automated systems on the factory floor. Many plants were indistinguishable from what is typical in the United States, while a few were a tad on the sloppy side, no doubt exacerbated by our sensibility that smoking is simply unacceptable in the workplace. Still, nothing prepared us for the experience of one visit, which was stunning in every regard, and I mean “stunning” in the best sense of the word.

This particular company produced precision industrial laser cutting machines, capable of slicing through great sheets of thick metal. A typical system might be the size of three SUV’s welded together, and they were impressive in operation as well, with explosive sparks shooting in every direction.

Every day at the factory, mighty steel beams arrive, primed a signature deep blue, 3 or 4 full assemblies at a time. We are told they “rest” for 12 hours, acclimatizing, in preparation for entering the assembly line ahead. At station one, they are pieced together, and some twenty successive stations marched down the floor and back again.

It seems that nothing stands in the way of the line. The time spent at each is exactly 2.8 hours – no more, no less. Each station’s team of technicians immediately adjusts to the unique features ordered up by the customer. And when the day’s shift is done, each tool is put back into place. Tool carts are rolled into their assigned position on the floor, clearly marked by painted yellow lines. Everything is neater than neat.

Halfway through the line, after the lasers are well in place, the first metal sheets are cut to determine the system’s precision. And it was here that the questions started.

Our guide, the manager of the operation, showed us the cut metal sheets and pointed to a large flat-bed scanner. He said that the test sheets were scanned by computer to see if the laser was performing to spec. If the measurements were off, a red light came on, and technicians from the station where the laser and controls had been installed, must stay until it is fixed.

“How often does the red light come on?” I asked, and the manager turned to me with piercing eyes. He paused. “Three times in three years” came the terse response. He went on to explain that the technicians had two full shifts to fix the problem. Day after day, week after week, I was assured that the green light came on again and again, and the line moved forward.

I just couldn’t help myself. “How do you know the red light works?” I volunteered. At this point, the manager could barely contain himself. The piercing eyes bulged. For this gentleman, failure was not an option.

Now, certainly, there are times when the brilliant stroke is what saves the day, but precision repeatability is not one of them. So my suggestion is really quite simple: If you are interviewing people for a job like this, hand each candidate a broom and point at the closet.

I'm Moira Gunn. This is Five Minutes.