Bed and Breakfasts: Creative Accommodations On the Road or Nightmare on Elm Street?

I stay at big chain hotels too often. I’m diamond in one program and platinum in another, so now I’m working towards gold in a third. But I’ve had a couple of co-workers choose a different route when they travel, and I’m curious what you all think of it.

“Bed and Breakfasts” are basically frilly little homes populated by the retired set. They let you sleep on the same kind of lumpy bed in the same kind of potpourri-scented room your parents keep for you in hopes you’ll stay with them over the holidays. And they include the same horrid home cooking and tedious conversation at breakfast. What more could I ask for?

But I’ve had a few fellow consultants heading to “B-b-B’s” lately, so I decided to ask why they would punish themselves like that. Here’s what they said:

Women like bed and breakfast accommodation because it removes them from the predatory world of business hotels. Apparently we men can get downright ugly after a week on the road and too many gin and tonics, making lewd comments, following women around the hotel, and generally being pigs. I get this. Grandma and grandpa are less threatening than Bob from Poughkeepsie. But hotels are also well-staffed, have on-site security, and lack the dark back porch and garden of your typical bed and breakfast. Give me drunken salesmen any day!

Some also said they save money by staying in informal lodging. I can understand this to an extent, especially now that I’ve got my own company, so every dollar spent at the Westin could have been saved towards my Tesla. Some even soak their per-diem, banking the extra hundreds rather than handing it over to the hotel. I imagine they’re the same people who eat lunch at Taco Bell in Midtown. Not me.

Finally, some tell me about the friendliness of the bed and breakfast environment. Can you imagine being excited to meet the retired couple with the RV and the grandma visiting her son in college? What a benefit!

Oh well. I’m not staying in a bed and breakfast. How about you?

Bates Motel image used for purposes of parody

Coke in the Lunch Room: Blurring Work and Private Life

Smart people will tell you to keep work and private life separate. And they’re right: Nothing good can come of your co-workers learning about your office affair, your clients learning about your binge drinking, or your boss learning about a gambling habit.

But it’s awfully hard for consultants, especially “on the road” types like me. I don’t magically appear at 8 and disappear at 5. I fly, eat, and often bunk up with my co-workers, spending more than half my life “on-site” with clients in distant cities. In this world, it’s inevitable that life will leak out.

Such was the case for an account rep (can’t say “salesman” anymore) I know. We had worked together “at home” a bit, but most of our interaction took place at the client site, the Marriott and Ruth’s Chris. This guy was usually hilarious, always telling a new story about risqué behavior right on the line of offensiveness.

But sometimes he wasn’t so funny. Sometimes he was downright bizarre. He would miss early-morning meetings and sometimes disappear before his creme brûlée arrived at the table. I assumed he was selling or schmoozing with someone more profitable than “the team” and let it slide.

Then I discovered the reality. We were in New York and somehow the rest of the group had vanished. A few went to bed early, resting up before 6 AM flights; others were local and headed home to their families.

He and I were spending some time yukking it up in a questionable cigar bar on the Lower East Side when a stranger knocked on the window, looking at us. He went gray, hopped up, and hurried outside to meet this bearded straggler, leaving his coat behind. After exchanging quite a few bills for a small package, he returned, staring me down.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he dared. Then he went on, without even a prod from me. “This is between us. Yeah, it’s coke. It’s just something I do. You won’t tell anyone. I can trust you.”

He could trust me. I wasn’t going to snitch. But things got weird after that. We spent a lot less time together, with him choosing to sit at the other end of the table and calling his own cab. Pretty soon he was dropped by the company in a semi-monthly cull of sales folk. I don’t think it had anything to do with the coke, but who can say?

Coca-Cola ad used for purposes of parody

Flaky Clients and Unfortunate Promises

Lots of clients are flaky, and it’s pretty common for folks like us to say whatever they want to hear just to get them to shut up. We often make promises we never mean to live up to, assuming they won’t be tested. So it’s no fun then these unfortunate client promises come home to roost.

A few months back, I had a quick phone call with a new prospect. The guy on the other end was excessively aggressive, making me question their buying power and his authority. Sometimes you can just sense it when the conversation changes from a client considering buying to a demonstration of his personal mojo.

He wanted in our schedule in April. Considering that was six months away, I decided to accept, even though I knew I would have real-money customers on the hook before then. After all, it was probably bluster and I didn’t want to call his bluff.

I followed up with an email, baiting him into making a real commitment. He didn’t reply, and I chalked him up to being a big-talker.

Then February rolled around. April was full to bursting when I happened to be on an unrelated phone call with Mr. Big. Of course, I had completely forgotten about my promise to him!

“How are things looking for April,” he asks.

“Oh, we’re busy, busy, busy as always,” I boast. “Completely booked up!”

“Yes, we’re ready to be part of that!”

Suddenly it’s The Princess Bride. “All but your four fastest ships,” Buttercup dubiously prompts…

Crap. I quickly search my email for any record of a previous conversation and there it is: A black-and-white promise of now-unavailable activity in April.

I knew what I had to do. “Yes, of course,” I reply. “I mean we’re booked up thanks to you!”

So I’m committed to making it work. I’ll rearrange April. Maybe I’ll bring on some temporary resources. Maybe I’ll let another project slip.

Then the transaction gets weird. “We’re actually not sure if we can do it,” he says after I’ve committed. “I need to check with the board. I’ll let you know in March.”

And there we are. I’ve over-committed my availability, I’m on the hook to deliver, and I can’t even plan on it happening! I did what I figured was best: Bet on his flaking out by still not reserving anything in the way of resources, all the while spending some internal capital on a “what if he comes through” plan with the team.

Know what I just heard last week? He flaked out.

Cadbury Flake photo by Evan-Amos used here for parody 

Crazy Airline Gobbledegook Nonsense

The airline business is like nothing on earth, and airline people are some of the most common interactions we consultants have. I thought I would take a minute to note some of the crazy words that come out of their mouths.

Note that I'm not talking about jargon - every field has special weird words for weird things. I'm talking about weird words for common things that didn't need renaming.

Weigh in in the comments if you've got more to add!

• Aircraft - This is one of the most common words to escape from the lips of airline people. I counted it at least three dozen times in the safety video alone! But no one outside the airline industry says aircraft. To us normals, it's an airplane, a jet, or most likely just a plane.
• Approach - No one is ever asked to "come over", "line up" or "step up". No, at airports you approach people and things, implying that you'll never get there. And at airports, sometimes it seems like you never will! Can you imagine if this odd wording was adopted by society as a whole? Would you approach the counter at Burger King, a professor's office, or your own bed?
• Beverage Service - "Welcome to Olive Garden! Your waitress will be here shortly with the beverage service!" Never gonna happen.
• Nautical terms - "Ahoy there, matey! Welcome aboard the pirate ship, Southwest Airlines Flight 123! I be the captain and this be my crew!" I suppose this one is debatable, since crew is used to describe the staff of any vessel (in the air, on the water, under the sea, or even in space) but it's such an odd historical link between ocean liners and aircraft (there I go). Why didn't they adopt rail terminology instead? Wouldn't it be cool to have a conductor and an engineer on an air-coach?
• Fly (as a verb) - This is pretty widely adopted in society as a whole, but it's another oddity. I have often been thanked for "flying Delta", but I'm pretty sure I didn't actually do any of the flying. I just got on board to eat peanuts and drink beer with the other passengers. Why not just call it travel? But that's not quite as sexy as flying, is it?
• Onboarding and Deplaning - You aren't just getting on a plane, or even boarding, now you're "onboarding the aircraft!" Talk about needless doublespeak! And yet I've never heard anyone refer to offboarding. No, that's deplaning! But let's stick to onboarding for a minute: Isn't it fun that this pretentious, obnoxious word is shared by the loathed corporate critters in HR?
• Operations - Another ridiculously common term inside aviation that has little meaning out in the real world is operations. The only normals who need to learn this term are us frequent fliers, since irregular operations (abbreviated IrrOps) is such a common occurrence.
• Rollerboards - This is so common it's becoming a real word! I have to assume the adjectival phrase "roll-aboard" (as in luggage) became a noun before the eggcorn effect took hold. Now they're rollerboards, which sounds like a questionable interrogation tactic! But they're still too big for commuter jets.
• Passive Voice - In a world full of rules, it pays to be passive. "That needs to be turned off" deflects obvious questions better than "I have no idea why I'm demanding that you turn off your computer, but I think some law says that you have to." Airline personnel have mastered passive voice!
• Podium - For some reason, that thing the gate agent stands behind isn't a counter (that's where the ticketing agent stands), a desk, a table, or a lectern (the proper term) but a podium. Even though they're never raised off the ground. Oh well.
• Product - MBA-ization comes to the airline industry! The act of flying your corpse to Des Moines is now referred to as "the product", as is (presumably) carrying the mail and the literal corpses in the cargo hold. Which is humorous, since the actual profitable product is pushing branded credit cards.

What are your favorite examples of airline doublespeak? Or am I just being a prick? Sound off in the comments!

Photo by MarkNye

Consulting Mad Libs

Ever notice the eerie similarity of consulting deliverables to Mad Libs?

It seems that as a firm gets more "mature" (in the procedure sense) all of its output becomes a massive game of "fill in the blanks." Just like Mad Libs. Need a deliverable for a small backwoods paper company? Fill in the blanks. How about a Wall Street financial? Same deliverable; just fill it in.

Oh, sure, firms like to pretend they're not doing this. "All of our deliverables are bespoke," quoth the faux Brit. "We wouldn't dream of passing off some former consultant's work for some other company as yours! Your problems are so unique and engaging, after all!"

But it's simply not true. The more I crash the conference rooms and cubes of companies all over this big world, the more I realize that everyone is just as screwed up as everyone else, and usually in the same way. I bet I could literally "global search and replace" the company name on my last deliverable for my next gig and it would be 90% of the way done. In fact, I bet I just did!

And it's not just us consultants who are doing this. I just took a gander at some legal papers (thankfully I'm not getting served this time!) and lo and behold it's an obvious paste-up. Change the names and addresses, update the property listing, and you're good to go. And just like my deliverables, the bulk of "the doc" is a standard set of appendices unabashedly attached. I bet they didn't spend more than an hour constructing this nuclear bomb!

Don't get me wrong. This isn't really a bad thing. Would you really prefer a totally-from-scratch document? Don't you think the Mad Libs approach is the best possible way to avoid omission and undesirable creativity? Let's just come clean. It's Mad Libs all the way down.

Note: The Mat Libs logo is used for illustration and parody. They don't endorse this blog, no way, no how. If you're not familiar with Mad Libs, check out their site. They're awesome!

What Your Drink Says About You (And Your Client)

Aah, cocktails! The time-honored way to unwind while simultaneously "entertaining" clients! Even the IRS allows you to deduct half the cost!

But what does a cocktail choice say about the drinker? Here lies a minefield for consultants!

If your client orders beer, you must not order booze. Get a Sam Adams. It's normal enough that everyone carries it, you won't seem weird or stuck up or snobby, and it's not terrible. You can alternatively buy a Yuengling in the Northeast, a Molson Canadian in Canada, an Anchor Steam in California or a Shiner Bock in Texas.

If your client orders a Crown and Coke, he's from Texas. Suck it up and drink one, too.

If your client orders a goofy flavored martini, humor her and get a gin and tonic. She doesn't like booze and doesn't want you to get all snobby on her. Order something "weird" and you've lost a client.

If your client orders a gin and tonic, call for Hendrick's. He or she will thank you, and you won't feel like a fool ordering one too.

If your client orders single-malt Scotch, you should call for 14 or 15 year Glenfiddich whether you like it or not. It's not crazy expensive, and he'll think it's a respectable and appropriate choice. Change the topic of conversation to cars or sports: You'll only make enemies discussing Scotch.

If your client orders a Cosmopolitan, you should order a Sidecar. She's clearly interested in tasty cocktails but doesn't know enough about them to order something awesome. If she tastes yours, she'll love it and love you for the introduction! If not, at least you don't look like a weirdo or a wino.

If your client orders a Manhattan or an Old Fashioned, go nuts. Get a gin martini or a negroni or start calling for top shelf liquor. Try something with Rye or sweet vermouth or egg white. This one's a keeper.

Wine is a topic for another post...

Image credit: Cocktail silliness by katypang

What is a "3-4-5 Consultant"?

There are many terms in consulting that just sort of seep through our consciousness without needing to be defined. But this kind of "consultantese" can mean trouble for newbies. So it is with "3-4-5", an important but opaque term of art in this industry. What does "3/4/5" mean to a consultant?

Put plainly, "3-4-5" means that, for each week you're working:

• You'll spend 3 nights at hotels
• You'll spend 4 days working at the client site
• You'll spend the fifth day back at the office

In other words, a 3-4-5 consultant can be expected to be away from home for four days and three nights just about every week.

Usually, the "3-4-5" schedule looks like this:

• Board a regional jet Monday at 5:30 AM for a flight to some lame city (Rochester? St. Louis? Frankfurt?), spend a long Monday at a boring office park, skip dinner, and get a late check in at the Hampton Inn (since that's the best they've got out there)
• Listen to a bunch of dispirited B- and C-players complain about their life all day Tuesday and Wednesday at the client site, the Applebee's, and the "inn"
• Pack up Thursday morning, skipping the waffles, and make an excuse to disappear at noon so you can fly back home before missing another night
• Fill out expense reports and attend "team meetings" all day Friday

Metaphorically, however, "3-4-5" is a promise from the firm. It means they intend to achieve some mythical level of "work/life balance" by "allowing" you to be home more than half your nights. "We're the good guys," they'll claim during your interview. "Unlike those body shops, we give our consultants a 3/4/5 week, treating them like the professionals they are!"

The new hire hears this and immediately dreams up a "3-2-2" scheme, traveling all day Monday, eating at fancy restaurants and going out clubbing three nights, and heading home first thing Thursday before skipping the last day of work. Do not fall into this trap. This is not how it is!

In reality, "3-4-5" often devolves into "4-4-5" or even "5-5-5", since the client never agreed only to have you on-site four days. Plus, "we have a staff meeting first thing Monday, and where were you Thursday at 4:30 when we needed you?" I've known many consultants who fly on Sunday and Saturday, even!

So there you have it. An ideal "3-4-5" consultant spends three nights and four days on the road. Sometimes.

Crazy Crap on a Private Plane. Literally!

From GSElevator comes this fantastic tale of life as a banker on a private jet roadshow. What happens when you party all night, scarf up too much breakfast, and hop on a bumpy business jet? The opposite of fireworks, that's what.

“Excuse me, where is the bathroom, because I don’t see a door?” I ask while still devoting considerable energy to fighting off what starts to feel like someone shook a seltzer bottle and shoved it up my ass. She looks at me, bemused, and says, “Well, we don’t really have one per se.” At this point she reads my mind, or just couldn’t miss the fact that I looked like Alec Baldwin after a 3-day coke binge. She continues, “Technically, we have one, but it’s really just for emergencies. Don’t worry, we’re landing shortly anyway.”

Head on over to read "The Roadshow" and you'll not be sorry!

The toilet in this story looks like this one from Travis S on Flickr. Trust me, it is exactly as described in the story!

Consultants Do It Better Than Everyone (But Disney)

Aah, vacation! When consultants get to kick back, relax, and spend some hotel points and airline miles. Ko Samui, here I come!

But, even on vacation, I just can't stop consulting! When all you do all day is criticize the crappy way everyone runs their business, vacation isn't all that relaxing. After all, the so-called "hospitality industry" is rife with nepotized C players, indolent idiots, and a slavish attention to all the wrong procedures.

Consider the average luxury resort stay:

• You're greeted by that cesspool of tip-driven ne'er-do-wells, the parking valets. They'll step up and grab your bags (right out of your hand) to "earn" a tip, but can't be bothered to bring your car around in a timely manner. So you have to tip big to make sure you're marked as a big spender, worthy of attention and service.
• Once inside, the well-dressed doorman will direct you to "reception" which, in modern times, has morphed into a disorganized set of high desks with no mechanism to keep the rabble organized. Even the elite desk is mobbed with barefoot rugrats and their parents asking where to get water park tickets.
• Then there's the bellhop, who can't bring your luggage without you yet takes an hour to find your room. "Welcome to the resort! Now sit on your bed while our guy rummages through your bags and smashes the cart into the doors." I'd skip the porter, but then I'd get a reputation at the resort of the kind of guy who does his own laundry and eats at the buffet...
• It's hilarious that "island time" has become a meme, but it's got no place at a luxury resort. Especially embossed on a plaque on the wall at the poolside bar. I don't want "island time" service, I want my damn drink!
• Everything at the resort costs $100. Breakfast for two, drinks by the pool, spa services, a bottle of water, everything. You might as well just bring a stack of Benjamins and hand them to every employee you see. Except for dinner, which costs $100 per person even though it's about Olive Garden quality.
• Your bill will be screwed up. They will charge you twice for dumb auditable things like overnight parking. How can they mess this kind of stuff up yet be able to force the maids to stuff four Kleenex into the box in the shape of a flower?

They could really use a consultant. But not me: It would ruin vacation if I knew just how much the resort management hates guests like me!

The only exception to all this is Disney. Those people are just fantastic. I think they must have management "secret shopping" the parks, noting where to add a water fountain and how to better train employees. Love it!

Photo credit: Fonsen

Consultantese: What's The Dollar Amount?

Dollar Amount

Noun
Salesman-speak for the money part of a contract. Just hearing this phrase makes hookers and lap dancers raise their fee.

I seriously get the willies when I hear otherwise worthwhile consultants adopt BS phrases like this.

Bonus: Yeah, that's the same BS clipart from the NSA PRISM deck. Ain't the Internet grand?