I remember one client we had worked with for ages. A real mom-and-pop shop, these guys never had much money and always had lots of needs. But they would usually scrape together enough coin to bring us in every few months to tweak a system or patch up an RFP. Sometimes they'd even pay me to talk to their staff about "technology advances" - in other words, I'd just show up and throw up about whatever I felt like.
I usually felt a bit guilty about taking their money. For one thing, it wasn't much so their projects were always scheduled "as available". Maybe I'd get it done this week, maybe next month. Whatever. And we never put in much effort on their tasks, either.
Then one day a funny thing happened. Somehow "Slick Dick" came in and convinced "Mom" to make him CIO of the place. He even negotiated a nice budget for services and equipment!
Our sales rep was drooling. Dick was a shyster and she knew it. But rather than letting Mom know to show him the door, Mrs. Rep pow-wowed with Dick and convinced him to hire us to build a Strategic Plan. This, of course, because there was no way he was capable of strategizing his way out of the can!
I was the lucky SoB to work with Dick on this plan. This left me deeply conflicted: Should I do it right and make Dick shine or should I torpedo his ambitions out of respect to my long-time friends there?
I was especially conflicted once it became clear that Dick wanted to outsource the whole thing to a certain sub-continental consulting firm. He figured the immediate savings would make him look like a god so he could parlay his own way out of there and into a cushier office with a bigger budget.
In the end, I did exactly what I was told. I helped Dick build a strategy and RoI model showing that outsourcing the whole shebang was the sensible thing to do. Then I did what I thought was right: I requested feedback from an old friend on staff, a guy at risk of losing his job under the new plan. Of course I didn't care about his feedback. I just wanted to leak the whole thing in time for him to sink Dick.
That's exactly what happened. IT rallied behind my old ally, sunk the outsourcing, and Dick got the shaft. As for me and my firm? We got paid handsomely for leading the company from Point A right back to Point A. What's a few kilobucks between friends?
Monday, March 25, 2013
Friday, March 22, 2013
Monday, March 18, 2013
Quick! They Have Money! Propose Something!
Everyone knows consultants are driven by money, but most don't realize just how "coin operated" their firms can be. Just like a cigarette machine, most consulting firms will happily devour your last dollar!
There was the rare case where I was on the receiving end of this crazy consulting business…
I had joined a small firm looking for more reward. And that's just what I got when times were good. But once things turned south, I was the only one keeping the company afloat. Seriously - I was the only billable resource actually billing!
Then something surreal happened: The CEO called in a friend to do some consulting. On our firm. For big bucks.
Suddenly I understood how "the locals" felt when I rode into town! I knew what the company needed: More billing and less lounging and paperwork pushing! Why not just ask me?
Mr. Friendly decided that we needed to increase our billability (gosh, ya think?) and sales effectiveness (seriously!) so proposed that we hit up all our past clients in search of someone with money. That was his proposal. Really.
So that's what we did. It was "all hands on deck" and "man the oars" and some other nautical nonsense as we started ringing up everyone we knew looking for loose change.
The mission wasn't to find work that needed to be done; rather we were "tasked to find budget" regardless of need, skill, or desire. And find budget we did!
Somehow, dozens of customers loosened up their wallets and ponied up for services right when we needed them most. But what would we do? We devised a "rapid assessment" with "actionable next steps" and sold a dozen at $10k each. Then I headed out to deliver the garbage at the first company. After puking out ten easy steps, I turned in my homework and expected to move on to the next.
But a funny thing happened instead: A bunch of junior consultants magically appeared (temps!) and they "delivered" in my place! They marched in, sat through meetings, and handed over THE EXACT SAME REPORT I had prepared. Easy money!
That was enough for me. I quit. But the company did fine. In fact, they are still out there, probably still selling my answers.
Photo by http://www.flickr.com/photos/oimax/
There was the rare case where I was on the receiving end of this crazy consulting business…
I had joined a small firm looking for more reward. And that's just what I got when times were good. But once things turned south, I was the only one keeping the company afloat. Seriously - I was the only billable resource actually billing!
Then something surreal happened: The CEO called in a friend to do some consulting. On our firm. For big bucks.
Suddenly I understood how "the locals" felt when I rode into town! I knew what the company needed: More billing and less lounging and paperwork pushing! Why not just ask me?
Mr. Friendly decided that we needed to increase our billability (gosh, ya think?) and sales effectiveness (seriously!) so proposed that we hit up all our past clients in search of someone with money. That was his proposal. Really.
So that's what we did. It was "all hands on deck" and "man the oars" and some other nautical nonsense as we started ringing up everyone we knew looking for loose change.
The mission wasn't to find work that needed to be done; rather we were "tasked to find budget" regardless of need, skill, or desire. And find budget we did!
Somehow, dozens of customers loosened up their wallets and ponied up for services right when we needed them most. But what would we do? We devised a "rapid assessment" with "actionable next steps" and sold a dozen at $10k each. Then I headed out to deliver the garbage at the first company. After puking out ten easy steps, I turned in my homework and expected to move on to the next.
But a funny thing happened instead: A bunch of junior consultants magically appeared (temps!) and they "delivered" in my place! They marched in, sat through meetings, and handed over THE EXACT SAME REPORT I had prepared. Easy money!
That was enough for me. I quit. But the company did fine. In fact, they are still out there, probably still selling my answers.
Photo by http://www.flickr.com/photos/oimax/
Thursday, March 14, 2013
A Cautionary Tale
Sometimes the simplest act can trigger a political meltdown.
Already viewed as a suspicious character, I made a gaffe that haunted me for
weeks.
My client was inordinately proud that they offered “k cups” instead
of the typical manky brew boiled in a pot that is never ever washed. However,
in keeping with their thrift and lack of appreciation of fresh, high quality
caffeine, they proffered no brand coffee that tasted like halitosis and had the
buzz factor of a conference call.
As a self sufficient consultant, I solved the problem by
ordering amazing coffee online and kept a stash in my desk drawer.
Within days, it was a “thing”. One camp inquired where I had
procured my cinnamon scented full Monte high test, and gladly accepted my offer
to share.
The other camp was livid – insulted that I was ungrateful
for their crappy coffee. Their fury began to creep out of the kitchen and into
my work. I started hearing “New York” comments, peppered with theories that I believe
I am better than the client (I am).
Soon I was dispersing my stash to grateful sippers until it
was gone. Exhausted figures haunted my doorway, looking for a fix. I couldn’t
order more – it would further inflame the proud, slow moving Midwesterners I
was hired to save.
A few weeks after the coffee was gone, I still needed to
bring the offended back into the fold. I thought about KYC, and how I was in a
land of caloric indifference. The next day, I expensed $15 in chocolate – kit
kats, snickers, three musketeers, and filled a huge bucket on my desk. Within
minutes (before 10am!) one by one,
people “stopped by” and helped themselves to handfuls. I had to refill the
bucket a few times a week, but I resurrected my sullied reputation and the
snarky comments ceased.
I won’t let the coffee catastrophe happen again, and I am
hyper aware that grumbling troops can undo my reputation.
Monday, March 11, 2013
The Client is Always Wrong
The hardest-learned lesson for any young consultant is how to be wrong. After all, you're the expert, right? But we're all painfully aware of our own limitations; otherwise we'd be in sales!
It's important for a good consultant to acknowledge and admit his limitations. It can even become a sport! Once you're gray enough, you can plead ignorance to almost anything and still get the gig!
I once admitted to the client's main point of contact that, until that meeting, I had never even heard of the product I was developing requirements for! Never mind that I knew it pretty well; I just wanted to see what he'd do! Of course, he kept the project going. After all, he had picked our firm…
But have you ever noticed that the client is almost never right? In fact, it's fair to say that the client is always wrong about everything, from requirements to the final punch list.
This may just be the hardest-learned lesson for an old consultant to face: You're going to tell them one thing and they'll do whatever they decide anyway. The best you can hope for is to convince them, through and through, all of them, that your way is best.
If you can't get real heartfelt buy-in, you're just as bad as they say consultants are!
Whatever. You know we're all even worse!
It's important for a good consultant to acknowledge and admit his limitations. It can even become a sport! Once you're gray enough, you can plead ignorance to almost anything and still get the gig!
I once admitted to the client's main point of contact that, until that meeting, I had never even heard of the product I was developing requirements for! Never mind that I knew it pretty well; I just wanted to see what he'd do! Of course, he kept the project going. After all, he had picked our firm…
But have you ever noticed that the client is almost never right? In fact, it's fair to say that the client is always wrong about everything, from requirements to the final punch list.
This may just be the hardest-learned lesson for an old consultant to face: You're going to tell them one thing and they'll do whatever they decide anyway. The best you can hope for is to convince them, through and through, all of them, that your way is best.
If you can't get real heartfelt buy-in, you're just as bad as they say consultants are!
Whatever. You know we're all even worse!
Friday, March 8, 2013
Monday, March 4, 2013
Jet Lag? What Jet Lag?
Post courtesy of alert guest blogger/consultant Gideon...
Early in my "career" as a for-hire bullshitter, I joined a company with "international presence" and experienced my first bout of real jet lag.
In this case, "international presence" meant we were working with a multi-national with offices in the US, UK, and continental Europe. It wasn't that international, in retrospect, but sure seemed exotic to a 20-something like me!
I had crossed the Atlantic a couple of times before, but I wasn't the air ninja I am today. So I boarded the (randomly-selected) plane and found my (cheap coach) seat. I was thrilled! In a few hours I'd be in Swinging London, telling the limeys how to do it!
As most young guns can tell you, your first solo international flight is an adventure. The snacks! The romance! The free booze! The trying to sleep in coach! Of course, I partook. And partook. "Keep 'em coming!" says I!
By the time I landed in London, I had spent the entire night drinking and smiling in my little seat, and the cold, humid air of Heathrow was not enough to rouse my rapidly-wearing body.
My boss (the bastard) had somehow talked his way into business class and was smart enough to sleep the whole way. We met up at "baggage reclaim" and hopped in a (client company) car for The City. I was already yawning.
We reached the financial district and headed straight to our all-day meeting. Our bags were whisked to The Thistle ahead of us. The luxury! We strode into the glass and steel Edifice of Importance and met up with a half dozen spotty grotty brits to begin our meeting.
I managed to make it through introductions, taking my seat next to the boss at the head of the table, but then it all came crashing down. The moment I was no longer standing, I felt the flight and the booze and the time difference hit me. The room became a nursery, with the warm air of the projector lulling me to sleep with its sweet song.
I still don't know what happened in that meeting. Somehow, I avoided getting fired even though I slept through the whole thing. I even kept that London gig for a few more trips!
Did I learn? Hell no! I stayed up late, drank and smoked, and even picked up a local specimen of the female persuasion when my "mates" didn't show. But that's a story for another day!
-Gideon
@No_EPO
Early in my "career" as a for-hire bullshitter, I joined a company with "international presence" and experienced my first bout of real jet lag.
In this case, "international presence" meant we were working with a multi-national with offices in the US, UK, and continental Europe. It wasn't that international, in retrospect, but sure seemed exotic to a 20-something like me!
I had crossed the Atlantic a couple of times before, but I wasn't the air ninja I am today. So I boarded the (randomly-selected) plane and found my (cheap coach) seat. I was thrilled! In a few hours I'd be in Swinging London, telling the limeys how to do it!
As most young guns can tell you, your first solo international flight is an adventure. The snacks! The romance! The free booze! The trying to sleep in coach! Of course, I partook. And partook. "Keep 'em coming!" says I!
By the time I landed in London, I had spent the entire night drinking and smiling in my little seat, and the cold, humid air of Heathrow was not enough to rouse my rapidly-wearing body.
My boss (the bastard) had somehow talked his way into business class and was smart enough to sleep the whole way. We met up at "baggage reclaim" and hopped in a (client company) car for The City. I was already yawning.
We reached the financial district and headed straight to our all-day meeting. Our bags were whisked to The Thistle ahead of us. The luxury! We strode into the glass and steel Edifice of Importance and met up with a half dozen spotty grotty brits to begin our meeting.
I managed to make it through introductions, taking my seat next to the boss at the head of the table, but then it all came crashing down. The moment I was no longer standing, I felt the flight and the booze and the time difference hit me. The room became a nursery, with the warm air of the projector lulling me to sleep with its sweet song.
I still don't know what happened in that meeting. Somehow, I avoided getting fired even though I slept through the whole thing. I even kept that London gig for a few more trips!
Did I learn? Hell no! I stayed up late, drank and smoked, and even picked up a local specimen of the female persuasion when my "mates" didn't show. But that's a story for another day!
-Gideon
@No_EPO
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