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!

Business School Admissions

This essay comes from an unknown writer, but apparently got the person accepted into a good MBA program. Sounds like they'd make a pretty damn good consultant, too.

3A. ESSAY

IN ORDER FOR THE ADMISSIONS STAFF OF [OUR BUSINESS SCHOOL] TO GET TO KNOW YOU, THE APPLICANT, BETTER, WE ASK THAT YOU ANSWER THE FOLLOWING QUESTION: ARE THERE ANY SIGNIFICANT EXPERIENCES YOU HAVE HAD, OR ACCOMPLISHMENTS YOU HAVE REALIZED, THAT HAVE HELPED TO DEFINE YOU AS A PERSON?

I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in the area of heat retention. I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas, I manage time efficiently. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row.

I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing, I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook Thirty- Minute Brownies in twenty minutes. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.

Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon Basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. I play bluegrass cello, I was scouted by the Mets, I am the subject of numerous documentaries. When I'm bored, I build large suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hang gliding. On Wednesdays, after work, I repair electrical appliances free of charge.

I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. I don't perspire. I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail. I have been caller number nine and have won the weekend passes. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling centrifugal-force demonstration. I bat .400. My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles. Children trust me.

I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy. I once read Paradise Lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield in one day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room that evening. I know the exact location of every food item in the supermarket. I have performed several covert operations for the CIA. I sleep once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair. While on vacation in Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. The laws of physics do not apply to me.

I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami. Years ago I discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down. I have made extraordinary four course meals using only a mouli and a toaster oven. I breed prize winning clams. I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the Kremlin. I have played Hamlet, I have performed open-heart surgery, and I have spoken with Elvis.

But I do not yet have an MBA.