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Engineering Economics of Life
Cycle Cost Analysis
The rise of the information age and the digital economy has dramatically changed
engineering and other technology-driven fields. With tremendous advances in com-
puting and communication systems, major organizational upheavals, all fueled by
complexity, globalization, short cycle times, and lean supply chains, the functions of
engineers have significantly changed. Engineers and similar professionals must be
technically savvy and have product management and costing skills all while work-
ing in a distributed and often unstable environment. This new-edition textbook is
updated to cover the integration of cost, risk, value, scheduling, and information
technologies going beyond basic engineering economics.
Engineering Economics of Life Cycle Cost Analysis, Second Edition, offers a systems
and life cycle or total ownership cost perspective. It presents advanced costing tech-
niques such as simulation-based costing, decision and risk analysis, complex systems
costing, software, big data, and cloud computing estimation. Examples and problems
demonstrating these techniques with real-world applications are also included.
All engineers and similar professionals will find this book useful, but it is mainly
written for systems engineers, engineering managers, program/product managers,
and industrial engineers. The text can serve as a professional reference or for use
with graduate courses on advanced engineering economic analysis and cost manage-
ment, and financial analysis for engineers.
Reasonable efforts have been made to publish reliable data and information, but the author and pub-
lisher cannot assume responsibility for the validity of all materials or the consequences of their use.
The authors and publishers have attempted to trace the copyright holders of all material reproduced in
this publication and apologize to copyright holders if permission to publish in this form has not been
obtained. If any copyright material has not been acknowledged please write and let us know so we may
rectify in any future reprint.
Except as permitted under U.S. Copyright Law, no part of this book may be reprinted, reproduced,
transmitted, or utilized in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or here-
after invented, including photocopying, microfilming, and recording, or in any information storage or
retrieval system, without written permission from the publishers.
For permission to photocopy or use material electronically from this work, access www.copyright.com
or contact the Copyright Clearance Center, Inc. (CCC), 222 Rosewood Drive, Danvers, MA 01923, 978-
750-8400. For works that are not available on CCC please contact mpkbookspermissions@tandf.co.uk
Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks and are
used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe.
DOI: 10.1201/9781003254782
Typeset in Times
by KnowledgeWorks Global Ltd.
v
vi Contents
Chapter 10 The Role of Risk, Value, and Cost in Making Decisions.................. 251
10.1 Introduction............................................................................ 251
10.2 Common Decision Analysis Tools......................................... 253
10.2.1 Decision Trees........................................................... 253
10.2.2 Decision-Making Based upon Value Analysis.......... 257
10.2.3 Pugh Matrix.............................................................. 261
10.2.4 Summary................................................................... 262
10.3 Risk......................................................................................... 262
10.3.1 Overview................................................................... 262
10.3.2 Risk Buffers............................................................... 265
10.4 Integrating Risk, Value, and Costs for Decision Analysis..... 265
10.5 Making Defensible and Transparent Decisions...................... 265
10.5.1 Bias............................................................................ 265
10.6 Summary................................................................................ 268
Bibliography...................................................................................... 269
References......................................................................................... 269
xi
xii List of Abbreviations
xv
xvi Preface
right set of MPTs and should replace engineering economy at both the undergradu-
ate and graduate level. Thus, we wrote the 2019 LCC textbook which was the first
edition of this text. In our software-centric workplace, Dr. Faber is able to bring
some modern relevance to the traditional engineering economic topics based upon
his software and data science background. First and foremost, tools like Excel and
@Risk have made teaching real-world cost problems possible. Secondly, most engi-
neers work in an interdisciplinary world and must understand TOC of their products.
Entry-level engineers simply need more than the mathematics of the time value of
money to succeed that is taught in traditional engineering economics classes/lectures.
Life cycle costing is at best an immature industry-driven discipline. Unfortunately,
textbooks are often long on theory and short on meaningful examples, real data, etc.
The 2nd edition of the 2019 textbook was developed with several goals. First and
foremost, we wanted to introduce new material because of the rapid advances in
data analytics, big data, and software-centric systems. Thus, we added a new chapter
on costing data and advanced computational methods with details on such subjects
as cloud versus distributed systems and the role of costing in artificial intelligence/
machine learning. We also added a chapter on integration cost, value, and schedule
to better perform trade space studies. Secondly, we wanted to correct all of the many
errors and add additional problems. One of the criticisms of the original text was that
many of the problems were too challenging. We originally tried to present as many
real-world problems as possible. Many of the new problems that were added were
designed to demonstrate the techniques in lieu of applying them to a real-world prob-
lem. Lastly, we added an appendix of how to use the economic functions in Excel.
Most of the examples in the text have been updated to demonstrate the functionality
of Excel in lieu of the traditional solution methods of equations and table lookup.
Our former colleagues at West Point along with the students and faculty at Stevens
Institute of Technology, University of Central Florida, Clarkson University, and
Stanford University contributed to much of the material presented herein. Having
made every effort to correctly reference the material, we suspect there are phrases
and other elements of the book that are not properly referenced. If you encounter a
phrase, figure, etc., that is not correctly referenced please send us the correct infor-
mation. Also, please send us any ideas, problems, mistakes, new material, etc. Note
that we are maintaining the website www.systemscosting.com. This is a great way to
contact us, provide feedback, etc.
John V. Farr
Professor Emeritus
United States Military Academy at
West Point
Isaac J. Faber
Chief Data Scientist
United States Army
Acknowledgments
We would like to thank some of the many people who contributed to the publishing
of this textbook. First and foremost, we would like to thank our former colleagues
at the United States Military Academy at West Point, particularly Jackie, James,
Kenny, Tim, Jeff, and Travis, and many of Dr. Farr’s colleagues at Stevens Institute
of Technology, specifically Dinesh, Brian, Rob, Mike, Kate, and Don, who inspired
him to write the original life cycle costing reference and this textbook adaptation.
Dr. Farr’s exposure to systems engineering at both West Point and Stevens helped
shape his motivation to move beyond traditional engineering economics and write
the original reference book. In addition, Dr. Farr’s former colleagues and students at
the University of Central Florida, especially Tim, and Clarkson University continue
to inspire us to deliver high-quality, relevant, and connected material to our students.
We also owe a debt of gratitude to the selfless servants in the US Army whom we
worked with for the majority of our professional careers. Their high standards for
professionalism sustained us when writing this book and performing all the jobs of
an academician became tedious. We would be remiss if we did not thank the many
students who encouraged us to write the book and contributed to much of the mate-
rial used in the text. Their projects formed the basis for many of the class problems,
examples, and case studies. There is no way to recognize each of them individually,
but we wish to thank them all collectively.
Most importantly, we would like to thank our wives, Michele and Kerry. Dr. Farr
owes a debt of gratitude to his two sons, Michael, David and their families, for their
patience during the many nights he worked late on both editions of this book and for
understanding as he traveled around the world to teach the courses for which it was
developed. Isaac also owes a debt to his four children, who sacrificed many hours of
time with their father to make this manuscript possible.
xix
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When Toodles was left alone he started out on a tour of inspection.
The first objects of interest were the dead chicken and the peach-pit
basket, but his attention was soon detracted from these by the bright
pan that held the cream; it had been pushed to the edge of the table.
As Toodles approached it he saw the reflection of a chubby baby
face on the outside.
“Baby,” said Toodles. He smiled and the pan baby smiled, and he
concluded that the pan must be full of pretty, smiling babies, and he
wanted them to play with. He could just get his little fingers over the
edge of the pan. He pulled and tugged with all his might to get the
pan baby down.
He succeeded, for the pan toppled over and deluged the
immaculate Toodles with thick, yellow cream. His pretty curls were
filled with chunks of oily coagulation, and cream ran in rivulets down
his little back and bosom.
He seated himself in the middle of it and paddled and spattered in
great glee.
The calf pen took longer to fix than Jack had expected, and as he
neared the house he heard the clock striking twelve, and, looking
fieldward, he saw his wife coming to dinner.
“Jumping Jupiter! what will she say?” was his mental comment.
“But she will soon fix things, I’ll bet.”
As he entered the kitchen what a sight met his gaze. The room
was dark with smoke from burned prunes, the table piled full of
unwashed pans and dishes. The cream. Heavens, the cream! The
dead chicken lay in the middle of the floor and the pit-basket was
upset, as Toodles had left it for the pan baby. The open-mouthed
churn stared at him.
Mr. Telfer opened the oven door; his pie was a black mass.
“I can see now why women sit down and cry sometimes. I’m
blessed if I don’t feel like it myself,” he said.
Toodles, drenched but happy, called from the middle of his cream
puddle, “High me, papa; high me.”
Mrs. Telfer called out as she passed the house: “Hello! Dinner
ready? I’m awful hungry.” But her husband was not visible.
She had enjoyed her morning’s work and was in excellent spirits.
She watered and fed the team, then started for the house. The
novelty of the situation amused her. She expected Jack would have
some surprise ready, some extra dish for dinner, the table decorated
with flowers or, perhaps, be tricked out in one of her white aprons
with his hair curled and a pink ribbon around his neck to show how a
wife should greet her husband.
He was such a wag it was impossible to tell what he might do. As
she entered the house she stood dumb with amazement. Her eyes
took in the situation. The breakfast dishes, the burned pie, the
creamy Toodles, the dead chicken, the littered sitting-room with the
remains of Toodles’ toilet and the distracted-looking man.
“How soon will dinner be ready?” she asked. But her husband did
not answer; he was busy picking up peach pits. “I’ve got to get back
to work as soon as I can,” she continued.
Crossing the room, she took up a paper and went outside and sat
down in the shade to read.
Toodles, greasy and dripping, trotted after.
“Oh, baby, go to papa and get cleaned up. Go tell papa to clean
baby up, darling,” said his mother. And the little fellow hurried into
the house, saying: “Keen baby up, papa; keen baby up.”
Poor Jack, he had lost out. He was hopelessly balled up. He was
mad. He had felt somehow that his troubles were over when he saw
his wife coming, but when she took the paper and sat down to read,
leaving him in that awful muss, the iron entered his soul.
Yet he knew that was exactly the way he did, and only yesterday
when she asked him to get a pitcher of fresh water for dinner he had
said:
“It’s a pity a man can’t get a moment to rest without having to
chore around the house.”
“Keen baby up, papa; keen baby up!” reiterated Toodles. Jack
looked down at the greasy, smeary child with its cream-matted curls
and capitulated.
“Say, Jennie,” he called, “I’ll give up. I know when I’m worsted. It’s
my treat. If you’ll come in here and help me out of this mix-up you
can name your own price and I’ll pay it. I’ve worked all the morning
and haven’t done a blamed thing but get all balled up. I never would
have believed a woman had so much to do if I hadn’t tried it. I am
dead sore at the whole deal.”
“Why, Jack,” laughed his wife, as she came to his assistance, “you
don’t seem to like paper-flower work. I guess you forgot to tie one
hand behind you and so used both to throw time at the birds.”
“Now see here, Jennie, don’t strike a man when he’s down. I’ll
admit that I’m not nearly so smart as I thought I was this morning,
but how things ever got in this shape I can’t tell,” said Jack with a
grim smile.
Together they soon brought order out of chaos, and as they sat
eating their picked-up dinner Jack said:
“If it is all the same to you, Jennie, I’ll finish the orchard this
afternoon.”—The Los Angeles Times.
A BAD NIGHT
By J. Ross Browne
I gradually dropped off into a doze, a mere doze, for I scorn the
charge of having slept a wink that night. The grating of the
grindstones, the everlasting clatter of tongues, the dust, the chaff,
smoke, and fleas, to say nothing of the roar of the water down below,
were enough to banish all hope of sleep; I merely closed my eyes to
try how ridiculous it would feel. How long they remained closed I
scarcely know; it was not long, however, for I soon heard a heavy
breathing close by my head, and felt the warm breath of some
monster on my face. I knew it to be no Arab; it blew and snuffed
altogether unlike anything of the human kind. Thinking it might be all
fancy, I cautiously put out my hand in the dark and began to feel
around me. For some moments I could discover nothing, but in
waving my hand around I at length touched something—something
that sent the blood flying back to my heart a good deal quicker than it
ever flew before. To tell the honest truth, I never was so startled in all
the previous adventures of my life. The substance that I put my hand
on was bare and warm; it was wet also and slimy, and had large
nostrils which seemed to be in the act of smelling me, previous to the
act of mastication. With the quickness of lightning I jerked up my
hand, and felt it glide along a skin covered with long rough hair; the
next instant my ears were stunned by the most dreadful noises,
which resembled, as I thought in the horror of the moment, the
roaring of a full-grown lion. But it was not the roaring of a lion; it was
only the braying of an ass.—From The Mill of Malaha.
AN UNTHANKFUL ORPHAN
By Kate Langley Bosher
My name is Mary Cary. I live in the Yorkburg Female Orphan
Asylum. You may think nothing happens in an Orphan Asylum. It
does. The orphans are sure enough children, and real, much like the
kind that have Mothers and Fathers; but though they don’t give
parties or wear truly Paris clothes, things happen.
To-day I was kept in. Yesterday, too. I don’t mind, for I would rather
watch the lightning up here than be down in the basement with the
others. There are days when I love thunder and lightning. I can’t
flash and crash, being just Mary Cary; but I’d like to, and when it is
done for me it is a relief to my feelings.
The reason I was kept in was this: Yesterday Mr. Gaffney, the one
with a sunk eye and cold in his head perpetual, came to talk to us for
the benefit of our characters. He thinks it’s his duty, and, just
naturally loving to talk, he wears us out once a week anyhow.
Yesterday, not agreeing with what he said, I wouldn’t pretend I did,
and I was punished prompt, of course.
I don’t care for duty-doers, and I tried not to listen to him; but
tiresome talk is hard not to hear—it makes you so mad. Hear him I
did, and when, after he had ambled on until I thought he really was
castor-oil and I had swallowed him, he blew his nose and said:
“You have much, my children, to be thankful for, and for everything
you should be thankful. Are you? If so, stand up. Rise, and stand
upon your feet.”
I didn’t rise. All the others did—stood on their feet, just like he
asked. None tried their heads. I was the only one that sat, and when
his good eye stared at me in such astonishment, I laughed out loud. I
couldn’t help it, I truly couldn’t.
I’m not thankful for everything, and that’s why I didn’t stand up.
Can you be thankful for toothache, or stomachache, or any kind of
ache? You cannot. And not meant to be, either.
The room got awful still, and then presently he said:
“Mary Cary”—his voice was worse than his eye—“Mary Cary, do
you mean to say you have not a thankful heart?” And he pointed his
finger at me like I was the Jezebel lady come to life.
I didn’t answer, thinking it safer, and he asked again:
“Do I understand, Mary Cary”—and by this time he was real red-in-
the-face mad—“do I understand you are not thankful for all that
comes to you? Do I understand aright?”
“Yes, sir, you understand right,” I said, getting up this time. “I am
not thankful for everything in my life. I’d be much thankfuller to have
a Mother and Father on earth than to have them in heaven. And
there are a great many other things I would like different.” And down
I sat, and was kept in for telling the truth.
Miss Bray says it was for impertinence (Miss Bray is the Head
Chief of this Institution), but I didn’t mean to be impertinent. I truly
didn’t. Speaking facts is apt to make trouble, though—also writing
them. To-day Miss Bray kept me in for putting something on the
blackboard I forgot to rub out. I wrote it just for my own relief, not
thinking about anybody else seeing it. What I wrote was this:
“Some people are crazy all the time;
All people are crazy sometimes.”
“In the winter, by the fireside, when the snow falls soft and white,
I am waiting, hoping, longing, but for what I don’t know quite.
And when summer’s sunshine shimmers, and the birds sing clear
and sweet,
I am waiting, always waiting, for the joy I hope to meet.
“It will be, I think, my husband, and the home he’ll make for me;
But of his coming or home-making, I as yet no signs do see.
But I still shall keep on waiting, for I know it’s true as fate,
When you really, truly hustle, things will come if just you’ll wait.”
And such singing! We’d been practicing in the back part of the
yard, and humming in bed, so as to get the words into the tune; but
we hadn’t let out until that night. That night we let go.
There’s nothing like singing from your heart, and, though I was the
minister and stood on a box which was shaky, I sang too. I led.
The bride didn’t think it was modest to hold up her head, and she
was the only silent one. But the bridegroom and bridesmaids sang,
and it sounded like the revivals at the Methodist church. It was
grand.
And that bride! She was Miss Bray. A graven image of her couldn’t
have been more like her.
She was stuffed in the right places, and her hair was frizzled just
like Miss Bray’s. Frizzled in front, and slick and tight in the back; and
her face was a purple pink, and powdered all over, with a piece of
dough just above her mouth on the left side to correspond with Miss
Bray’s mole.
And she held herself so like her, shoulders back, and making that
little nervous sniffle with her nose, like Miss Bray makes when she’s
excited, that once I had to wink at her to stop.
The groom didn’t look like Dr. Rudd. But she wore men’s clothes,
and that’s the only way you’d know some men were men, and almost
anything will do for a groom. Nobody noticed him.
We were getting on just grand, and I was marrying away, telling
them what they must do and what they mustn’t do. Particularly that
they mustn’t get mad and leave each other, for Yorkburg was very
old-fashioned and didn’t like changes, and would rather stick to its
mistakes than go back on its word. And then I turned to the bride.
“Miss Bray,” I said, “have you told this man you are marrying that
you are two-faced and underhand, and can’t be trusted to tell the
truth? Have you told him that nobody loves you, and that for years
you have tried to pass for a lamb, when you are an old sheep? And
does he know that though you’re a good manager on little and are
not lazy, that your temper’s been ruined by economizing, and that at
times, if you were dead, there’d be no place for you? Peter wouldn’t
pass you, and the devil wouldn’t stand you. And does he know he’s
buying a pig in a bag, and that the best wedding present he could
give you would be a set of new teeth? And will you promise to stop
pink powder and clean your finger-nails every day? And—”
But I got no further, for something made me look up, and there,
standing in the door, was the real Miss Bray.
All I said was—“Let us pray!”—Abridged from “Mary Cary,”
copyrighted by The Century Company, New York, and used by the
kind consent of author and publisher.