Really Bad Management Writing, Part VII

 

It was the same dark and stormy night from the last adventure. I was sitting at my desk, staring at the words on the glass panel of my office door, yrrebpsaR ylnatS, eyE etavirP, when a weasel-like shadow moved across it. I knew in an instant who it was: my landlord, Fair Et Weaselhead. He opened the door and walked in.

“You’re three months in arrears in your rent, Raspberry.”

“Yeah, you keep reminding me.”

“And I’ll keep reminding you until I get my money. What’s your problem, anyway?”

“The other business-oriented consulting detectives are getting all the clients these days … I’m not sure why.”

“Maybe they’re better than you.”

“Maybe they can charge less because their landlords aren’t setting their rents too high.”

Just then she walked in.

She was about six feet tall, with long black hair, wearing a double-breasted jacket over a black pleated skirt. Through her pince-nez-styled sunglasses, she looked over the both of us.

“Is this a bad time?”

I answered “no” at the same instant Weaselhead answered “yes.”

“Which of you is Stanly Raspberry?”

“I’m Raspberry.”

“I may have a job for you, if you’re interested.”

“He’s interested!” exclaimed Weaselhead.

“What’s your fee?”

“His retainer is $900, which just happens to be the value of three month’s rent.”

She sat down in the cane-bottom chair, took out her check book and a fountain pen, and began to write.

“Make it out to Fair Et Weaselhead” Weaselhead demanded.

After she tore the check out of her book, Weaselhead snatched it, and darted from the room.

“Okay” I began, “I guess I’m your man. What’s the problem?”

“My name is Dee S. Tress, and I’m the head of the Project Controls group for Acme Corporation. About six weeks ago we hired a consultant from Monolithic Corporation…”

“From who?”

“It’s ‘from whom,’ and you heard me. Anyway, my company’s principals mean well, but they’ve gone soft on the need for project management information systems, and instead are listening to the risk managers’ nonsense. This Monolithic guy is just selling them more of the same, and I’m powerless to stop him.”

“What’s he doing right now?”

“Giving his final report to the management team.”

“Can you get me into his office?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s go.”

 *  *  *

Dee took me to the temporary office the Monolithic consultant had been using. I looked over his desktop and bookcase.  “Hmmm….” I said.

“What is it?” Dee asked.

“Look at these books – Walden II by Skinner, and The Critical Chain by Goldratt. Very telling.”

“How so?”

“Both books use the same device, of advancing a dubious near-science proposition through a fictionalized setting.  The authors adapt a theoretical approach to a problem and, rather than collect evidence and provide legitimate analysis, they make up characters and settings where their theories are ‘tested.’ And – wouldn’t you just know it – they work like a charm!”

“But by making a management science point in a fictionalized setting, isn’t that what Michael is doing right now, in this blog posting?”

At this point both Dee and I looked up at Michael, through the computer monitor. He leaned over the keyboard, and shouted “Get back to work!”

Dee continued: “Those two books, weren’t they best-sellers, with wide-ranging effects on their respective fields?”

“Yeah” I responded pensively. “Yeah.”

“What does that tell you?”

“That your Monolithic consultant isn’t about conducting a proper review of Acme’s projects’ audit trail, but would rather construct a narrative that sounds plausible enough to get him invited back, while, essentially, flattering your superiors.”

“You know,” Dee realized, “he did seem remarkably uninterested in the project managers’ view on what was wrong, and spent all of his time with the accountants and risk managers!”

“Dead giveaway. Where is he right now?”

“Down in the basement – the Hatfield Conference Room.”
“The who conference room?”

“It’s named after an obscure ProjectManagement.com blogger.”

“Let’s go.”

*  *  *

As we entered the conference room, the Monolithic consultant was just wrapping up.
“…and that’s how the brilliant, insightful risk managers saved the corporation, charging only a fraction of the value they brought. The End.”

The Acme executives stared at the consultant, enraptured. The room exploded into applause, as the CEO exclaimed “Well done, very well done indeed! Can you come back and perform another ‘analysis’?”

“Oh yes, please do!” the other managers cried out, in unison.

“We’re too late” I whispered to Dee.

“What can be done?” she asked, her eyes welling with tears.

“We have to get the truth out there … how are you at writing blogs?”