Really Bad PM Radio Shows

 

It was yet another dark and stormy night. I had just sent my secretary home, when a dark shadow passed over the frosted glass door bearing the stencile ylnatS yrrebpsaR, etavirP eyE. The brass doorknob slowly clicked open, and in stepped one of the most brooding visitors I have ever had.
“You Raspberry?”
“That’s what the door says.”
“I didn’t ask the door. I’m asking you.”
“Yeah, I’m Raspberry. And you are…?”
“My name is Sigh Nemup. I’m a talent scout for radio networks across the country. I ‘discover’ talent, and get them on nationally-sydicated radio shows.”
A sense of excitement arose in me suddenly. 
“Are you recruiting me for a nationally-syndicated radio show?”
“Don’t be an idiot” Sigh replied. “You’ve heard, I’m sure, of the Dee Johnson PM radio program?”
Dee was a radio show host who would take calls from project team members who were suffering through problems, dispense sage advice, and then play a song that had a tenuous connection to the called-in problem.
“Sure.”
“Well, she’s had a project emergency, and we need a fill-in host. I went to the yellow pages under ‘PM Consulting Detectives,’ closed my eyes, hit the page with my index finger, and your name was the one I chose.”
“When do you need me to do this gig?”
“The car’s waiting outside.”
        *           *          *
“Good evening, and welcome to the Dee Johnson show. My name is Stanly Raspberry, Private Eye, and I’m filling in for Dee. Let’s go to our first caller, Mandy. What’s your story, Mandy?”
“Well, my customer keeps commenting on my arrival times, and he’s changed in a lot of other ways, as well. He keeps wanting me to do more than what was, I think, included in the original Statement of Work, but I’m reluctant to go there. I heard Dee advise on a similar case, and I thought I’d ask you what should I do?”
“Wait, that’s it? That’s your question?”
“Well, yeah.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t possibly be expected to make a viable recommendation based only on what you’ve told me. For example, you said your customer keeps commenting on your arrival times. Are you consistently late?”
“Why do you want to know that?”
“Because if you aren’t, then such inquiries may be inappropriate. But if you are chronically late, then they could easily be sincere expressions of innocent concern for what’s happening in your day-to-day activities, or even a hint that he would like you to be on-time to meetings.”
“Nevermind that, then. What of his pushing me to do things that aren’t in the SOW?”
“Again, I really don’t have enough information. You originally said that your customer wanted you to do more, ‘I think.’ Why don’t you know? Are you unfamiliar with the SOW, or was it written in such a way as to allow for some ambiguity?”
“I don’t really remember … wait – Dee never whines about not having enough information to make a recommendation. Just the other night I heard her give a clear and definitive answer to a similar question. Why can’t you do the same thing?”
“Look,” I began, “I understand that, in the project management realm, there are some precepts that are considered inviolable, and any transgression against them invites an automatic or formulaic response. I also get that asking a contractor to do more than is in the Statement of Work – the classical definition of scope creep – is one such hard-and-fast rule. But if you’ve read Michael Hatfield’s books or blogs, you would know that the top 80% of managers with access to 20% of the information they need to obviate a given decision will be out-performed by the 20% worst managers with 80% of the needed information. You’ve given me maybe 2% of the information I need, and you expect me to give you a usable recommendation?”
“Yes.”
“You must have me confused with a risk manager, but, as my answer to you, I will play We’ve Got the Beat, by the Go-Gos.”
“What on Earth does that have to do with my problem?”
“My point exactly.”