Archive for the ‘Business Fables’ Category
Sherlock Holmes and the case of the terminated PMO
“Tch, tch,” clucked Holmes, shaking his head. “What a tragedy, Watson,” he continued, “yet another project management office cut down in its prime.”
Watson said nothing; he knew his friend did not like interruptions when he was surveying a crime scene.
Holmes walked around as he always did, in apparently random fashion, his sharp eyes darting from here to there taking in the details – the process flowcharts on a wall, project schedules displayed over on the other side, the printed portfolio reports that lay on the table and the many other artefacts that are part and parcel of a PMO.
After watching his friend for what seemed like an eternity, Watson could hold his curiosity no longer: “What’s your guess, Holmes?” he asked.
“I never guess. It is a shocking habit—destructive to the logical faculty.” He looked up sharply, “You should know better than to ask Watson….”
“I know, Holmes, but my curiosity gets the better of me. What do you think happened?”
“Ah yes, what I think. What I think is not important, Watson,” he said, wagging his index finger in his friend’s direction. “We must focus on what we know – the facts.”
“So, what are the facts?” asked Watson wearily. His friend could be an insufferable pedant.
“You know my methods, Watson. Look around you. What do you see?”
Oh, they were going to play that game again. Shaking his head in exasperation, Watson said, “Why don’t you save time and tell me, Holmes. You are the genius, not I.”
“Ah Watson, sarcasm does not become you. Anyway, I take no offence and will offer you some hints so that you may begin to discern the real reason for the failure of this PMO.”
He walked over to the flowcharts on the wall and asked,” Tell me Watson, What are these and what do they tell you?”
Watson walked over to the charts, looked at them intently and said, “I think we can safely say these describe project management processes.” Then, jabbing his finger at a chart, he continued, “This one describes the process of authorisation. It seems sensible enough – a need is identified, a business case drawn up and submitted to the project governance board, it is evaluated against certain criteria and then a decision is made on whether the project should be authorised or not. And look at this one, ‘tis a work of art….”
“Do you know, Watson,” interrupted Holmes, “that it is one of the curses of a mind with a turn like mine that I must look at everything with reference to my own special subject. You look at these attractive flowcharts, and you are impressed by their beauty. I look at them, and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their isolation and of the impunity with which they may be subverted.”
“Huh?” blurted Watson, not knowing quite what to make of this.
“I see you are perplexed, Watson. Let me put it another way, a PMO may require that project managers comply with certain process, but it cannot enforce compliance.”
“So you think the PMO failed because it could not get project managers to follow processes?”
“Yes, Watson. But experience tells me that although that may be a visible symptom, it is not the cause. You’re a doctor so I don’t need to tell you that identifying symptoms is necessary but, to cure the disease, one must find the cause. It is all too easy to label the symptom as the cause – many consultants have done so, and have thus made recommendations that are worse than useless.”
“Worse than useless? I don’t understand, Holmes.”
“Yes, worse than useless. If organisations focus on curing symptoms rather than causes, they will end up exacerbating the underlying dysfunctions. For example, if a consultant mistakenly labels the fact that project managers did not follow processes as the cause, the organisation may put in place procedures that forces managers to comply with processes. That, as you will no doubt appreciate, is doing exactly the wrong thing – it will only make things worse.”
“Why is it the wrong thing? Surely if they are forced to comply, they will and the processes will then be followed as they should be.”
“Ah, Watson,” said Holmes, shaking his head in exasperation, “that’s the army man in you talking.” He continuted sharply, “This is not the military, Sir! This is the messy world of organisation-land where people are autonomous agents even though management orthodoxy would have us believe otherwise.”
“’Tis a matter of discipline, Holmes. Surely you do not advocate letting project managers behave as they would want – as, how do you say it…autonomous agents.”
“ You know Watson, may be you are right,” said Holmes. “Perhaps when a man has special knowledge and special powers like my own, it rather encourages him to seek a complex explanation when a simpler one is at hand.”
“Indeed, I think you are over-complicating matters my dear Holmes. This is an open and shut case – a failure of enforcement and compliance.” said Watson.
“Possibly, Watson. However, the truth is not to be found here in the PMO. It lies elsewhere, in the hallowed heights of the executive floor… Anyway there is a more immediate matter that needs our attention: it is late and the sun sinks rapidly. We must make our way to that fine establishment I noticed at the end of the street – I could do with a pint or three.”
“Well said, Holmes!”
The two made their way towards the exit.
———
“Come, friend Watson, the curtain rings up for the last act,” murmured Holmes, as the two of them entered the elevator. They had come to the head office to meet the executive director.
The two found their way to the meeting room on the executive floor and entered.
“Hello Holmes, it is good to see you again,” boomed the executive director, “and I see you have brought Dr. Watson with you. Good to see you too, sir. Do come in and meet my management team.”.
After the mandatory round of introductions and business card exchanges, the director continued,”I take it you have something for us, Holmes.”
“Yes sir, I have a number of questions.“
“Questions? I don’t understand, Holmes. We hired you to find us some answers about the failure of our PMO, and you tell me have a few questions. I take it you have some answers too. The CIO expects answers not questions,” he said with a nervous chuckle.
“No,I have no answers…but a hypothesis that I hope to validate soon.”
“I do not understand the need for this drama,” said the director.
“Watson here will tell you that I can never resist a touch of the dramatic.”
“OK, Holmes, you had better get to it then,” said the director shortly.
“I’ll get right to it sir,” he said, and turned to face the seated managers. “Ladies and gentlemen, pray what was the objective of your PMO?”
There was a stunned silence. Finally, one of the managers spoke up, “Surely that is obvious Mr, Holmes.”
“Thank you. I do realise my question may seem a little simple minded to you, but I beg that you answer it in a way that you would to someone who knows nothing about PMOs.” He turned to the executive director for confirmation.
“Yes, yes, answer his question,” said the executive director impatiently.
“OK, if you insist. The basic objective of the PMO can be summarised in a line. It was to ensure that all our strategic projects are delivered on time, within the agreed budget and to the required standards of quality. Needless to say, the PMO failed to deliver: as I recall, out of the 12 strategic projects we have, 8 or 9 are in serious trouble – over budget and/or time by more than 50%,” said the manager. “That is all the relevant detail… I trust it is not too much for you, Mr Holmes,” he added.
“”I am glad of all details, whether they seem to you to be relevant or not,” retorted Holmes. Then, in a gentler tone, he asked, “How exactly was the PMO expected to achieve these objectives?”
The managers looked at each other, nonplussed at the question.
Finally, one of them asked, “Mr. Holmes, what do you mean by “how”? I do not understand your question…and I think I speak for my colleagues too. We followed the advice of Lord Gartner and Baron McKinsey in setting up our PMO. Among many other things, we are fully aware of the importance of giving a PMO complete authority to oversee and control IT projects across the organisation. I am sure you are aware that our PMO had implemented a set of proven best practice project and portfolio management standards to ensure control and oversight.”
“Yes, we have seen the process charts…they are impressive indeed,” piped up Watson. Holmes gave him The Look.
“That is so, and the fact that some projects have succeeded shows that the processes do work,” said another manager.
“My dear sir, results without causes are impressive but assuming a causal link between them, sans proof, is not,” said Holmes. “Let me ask you a simple question, sir. Would you say your organisation is unique – one of a kind?”
“Of course it is,” said the manager. “We have just been voted a ‘best employer’ and we won several industry awards in previous years. Indeed we are unique.”
“…and yet you implement standardised processes?”
“What is your point, Mr. Holmes?”
“Let me spell it out: your organisation is unique, as are your people. Right?”
“Yes,” said the manager. Others around the room were nodding their assent.
“In view of your uniqueness, don’t you think you ought to develop – rather evolve – your own unique processes in collaboration with your project managers rather than impose one-size-fits-all “best practice” standards on them?”
“But…why should we do that…and how ?” Asked the executive director.
“Sir, I’ve already answered the “why.” I will leave the “how” for you and your team to figure out. Whatever else you do, I cannot overemphasise the importance of including your frontline managers and employees in the discussions about how your PMO should function, and also in selecting and designing appropriate processes.”
“I see…,” said the director thoughtfully.
“Sir, your PMO failed because it attempted to transplant practices that allegedly worked elsewhere into your unique –dare I say, special – organisation. As was inevitable, the transplant was roundly rejected: your people found the processes strange, even arbitrary, and resented them. Consequently, they found ways to work around them instead of with them. Failure of your PMO was preordained because of your focus on processes rather than intentions.
The executive director nodded thoughtfully, as the penny dropped. “Thank you Holmes,” he said, “I see your point….finally.”
“Thank you sir…and thank you all,” said Holmes nodding at each of the seated managers in turn. “There is much work for you all to do now, so Dr. Watson and I will show ourselves out.”
The two gathered their papers and left, shutting the door behind them gently.
“Never underestimate the power of a question to illuminate the truth,” said Holmes sententiously as he and Watson entered the elevator.
Watson rolled his eyes; his friend was brilliant, but he could also be a pompous ass.
——–
Acknowledgements:
Thanks to Arati Apte and Paul Culmsee for encouragement and feedback on earlier drafts of this story.
Notes:
- Spot the quote (for Sherlock Holmes trainspotters): there are eight quotes from various Sherlock Holmes adventures in this post; most are verbatim, but a couple of the longer ones have been adapted to fit the narrative.
- If you enjoyed this piece, you might want to have a look at the other business fables on this blog.
One evening at the station – a project management fable
It had been an eventful day but Jack was still not done. He needed to update the schedule to reflect the bad news from the vendor and his development team. Then there was the status report. He was not looking forward to the meeting tomorrow. The sponsor would go ballistic when he heard about the delay. “I’d better do the status report before I go home,” he thought to himself. “Damned project is more trouble than it’s worth. I should never have volunteered for it …”
The phone rang flashing his home number. He ignored it recalling the morning’s conversation with his wife – she was expecting him to be home an hour ago. “S**t, talk about conflicting priorities,” he muttered to himself as he shut down his notebook and stuffed it in to his satchel, “I’ll have to do the status report at home.”
He dashed off to catch the 8:05 train; with luck he might be home in an hour.
But luck was not on his side that evening. He heard the rumble of the departing 8:05 as he bounded down the escalator to the platform. “Oh no, that’s another half hour gone, I should’ve stayed at the office and finished the status report,” he said to himself, shaking his head in annoyance.
He must have said that out loud because a gentle voice from behind him asked, “Tough day at the office, huh?”
He turned around, annoyed at the intrusion, “Excuse me…” he stopped himself mid-sentence when he saw the voice belonged to a wizened old man with twinkling eyes. Yoda was the word that came to mind. Jack continued in a friendlier tone: “Yeah, you could say it’s been a hard day.”
“What do you do for a living?” asked the old man.
Jack didn’t want the conversation but didn’t want to offend the old man either, “I manage projects,” he replied.
“Forgive my ignorance,” said the old man, “but what is a project and what does it mean to manage one?”
Jack rolled eyes (well, he didn’t really, but he felt like). “A project is an initiative to create something…like a new product or service within a specified time and budget. And managing it involves doing what’s necessary to make sure the product or service is created on time and within the specified budget.”
“So how do you do that?”
Jack was starting to get a little annoyed at the intrusion and he certainly did not want to get into all that PM 101 stuff, so he simply said, “There are a bunch of standard processes and techniques to run projects efficiently. They work well when done right.”
“How are they working for you right now?” asked the old man.
“Not so well. Why? Do you have some advice to offer?” he enquired pointedly.
“Why aren’t they working well?” persisted the old man, oblivious to Jack’s irritation.
“Oh, all kinds of reasons: politics people etc. – it’s complicated.”
“And you didn’t see these complications before they occurred,” stated the old man, more as a fact than question.
“Obviously I didn’t,” retorted Jack.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to annoy with these questions but I can’t help but wonder if …”
Jack had had enough. “Please mind your own business,” he said shortly. “And if you’ll excuse me, I have a half hour before my train arrives and a stack of work to catch up with.” So saying, he strode to a nearby bench and sat down. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out his notebook and turned his attention to his unfinished status report.
The old man shrugged and wandered off towards the other end of the platform.
Jack, totally engrossed in his reports and plans, paid little attention to the announcements and the hubbub of the platform. He was used to working at the station, and knew that the rumble of his train would alert him that he needed to board.
And so he continued working.
About half an hour later, he noticed that the noise around him had subsided somewhat. That didn’t feel right. He surfaced from his reports and looked around. There were very few people about. “What’s going on?” he muttered to himself.
“Ah, I see you missed the announcements.” He hadn’t noticed the old man approach.
“What announcements?” asked Jack, a tad bewildered.
“Trains have been cancelled because of an accident further down the line,” replied the old man, ‘you’ll need to find some other way to get home…”
“S**t, that’s all I need, doesn’t anything work in this damned place.”
“There were at least a couple of announcements but it appears you missed them,” said the old man.
It was going to be an expensive cab ride home or another half hour wait for a bus followed by a 45 minute commute. Jack, sighing resignedly, stuffed his computer back into his bag and got up to go.
“It is good to pay attention to what is actually happening rather than what you think will happen,” said Yoda.
“Yeah, whatever,” said Jack as he turned and walked away.
“Perhaps there’s a lesson here for your work too: timetables and plans are not reality” said the old man.
Jack was taken aback. He stopped in his tracks, turned towards the old man and asked, “What do you mean?”
“I think I’ve said enough,” came the reply. “Make of it what you will.”
The old man shuffled away, leaving Jack to contemplate the long ride home.
The king’s son – a project management fable
Once upon a time there was a king who was much loved by his people. The people loved him because he did many Good Things: he built roads for those who needed to travel long distances, houses for those who lacked a place to live and even initiated software projects to keep geeks in gainful employment.
All the Good Things the king did needed money and although the king was rich, his resources were not unlimited. Naturally, the king’s treasurer wanted to ensure that the funds flowing out of the state coffers were being put to good use.
One day, at a council meeting the treasurer summoned up his courage and asked the king, “Your highness, I know your intentions are good, but how do we know that all the money we spend is being used properly?”
“It must be so because the people are happy,” replied the king.
“Yes they are happy and that is good,” said the treasurer, “but how do we know that money we spend is not being wasted? Is it not possible that we could save money by coordinating, planning and monitoring the Good Things we do in an organized manner?”
The king (who was known to think from time to time) mulled over this for a few days.
After much mulling, he summoned his treasurer and said, “You are right. We should be more organized in the way we do all the Good Things we do. This task is so important that I will ask my second son to oversee the Good Things we do. He is, after all, a Prince Too.”
The second son (who was a Prince Too) took to his new role with relish. His first act was to set up a Governance Committee to oversee and direct all the Good Things that were being done. He ordered the board to come up with a process that would ensure that the Good Things being done would be done in an efficient and transparent way. His second act was to publish a decree, declaring that all those who did not follow the process would be summarily terminated.
Many expensive consultants and long meetings later, the Governance Committee announced they had a methodology (they could coin a word or two…) which, if followed to the letter, would ensure that all the Good Things being done were done efficiently, in a way to ensure value for the state. They had the assurance of those expensive consultants that the methodology was tested and proven so they believed this would happen as a matter of course. Moreover, the rates that the consultants charged convinced the Governance Committee that this must indeed be so.
In keeping with penchant of committees to name things, they gave the methodology the name of the king’s son (who, as we have seen earlier, was a Prince Too).
And so it came to pass that all the Good Things being done followed a process. Those who managed the Good Things and those who actually did them, underwent rigorous training in the foundations and practice of the methodology (which meant more revenue for the consultants). The planners and the doers then went out and applied the methodology in their work.
And for a while, everyone was happy: the king, the treasurer, the Governance Committee ….and of course, the Prince Too.
After sometime, however, the treasurer noticed that the flow of money out of his coffers and into the Good Things had not lessened – on the contrary, it seemed to have increased. This alarmed him, so he requested a meeting with the king’s son to discuss the matter. The king’s son, on hearing the treasurer’s tale, was alarmed too (his father would not be happy if he heard that methodology had made the matter worse…).
The king’s son summoned the Governance Committee and demanded an Explanation Now! Yes, this was how he said it, he was very, very angry.
The Governance Committee were at a loss to explain the paradox. They were using a tested and proven methodology (as the expensive consultants assured them), yet their cost of all the Good Things they were doing was rising. “What gives?” they wondered. Try as they did, they could not find an answer. After much cogitation they called in the expensive consultants and demanded an explanation.
The consultants said that the methodology was Tested and Proven. It was simply not possible that it wasn’t working. To diagnose the problem they recommended a month long audit of all the Good Things that had been done since the methodology was imposed.
The Governance Committee agreed; they had little choice (unless they preferred summary termination, which they didn’t).
The audit thus proceeded.
A month later the consultant reported back to the Governance Committee. “We know what the problem is,” they said. “Those who do Good Things aren’t following the methodology to the letter. You must understand that the benefits of the methodology will be realised only if it is implemented properly. We recommend that everyone undergoes refresher training in the methodology so that they understand it properly .”
The Governance Committee went to the treasurer, explained the situation and requested that funds be granted for refresher courses.
On hearing this, the treasurer was livid. “What? We have to spend more money to fix this problem? You must be joking.” He was very angry but he could see no other way; the consultants were the only ones who could see them out of this mess.
The money was sanctioned and the training conducted. More Good Things were done but, unfortunately, the costs did not settle down. Things, in fact, got so bad that the treasurer went directly to the king and mentioned the problem.
The king said, “Summon my second son,” he said imperiously, “I must have Words with him.”
The second son (who was a Prince Too) was summoned and arrived post-haste. His retainers had warned him that the king was very very angry.
“Father, you requested my presence?” He asked, a tad tremulously.
“Damn right, I requested your presence. I asked you to ensure that my money is being well spent on creating Good Things, and now I find that you are spending even more than we did before I put you in charge. I demand an explanation,” thundered the king.
The king’s son knew he was in trouble, but he was a quick thinker. “Father,” he said, “I am as disappointed as you are with the performance of the Governance Committee; so disappointed am I that I shall terminate them summarily.”
“You do that son,” said the king, “and staunch the flow of funds from my coffers. I don’t know much, but I do know that when the treasurer tells me that I am running out of money, I have a serious problem.”
And so the Governance Committee was terminated. The expensive consultants, however, lived on as did the king’s son (who was after all a Prince Too ). He knew he would try again, but with a more competent Governance Committee. He had no choice – the present bunch of incompetents had been summarily terminated.
Acknowledgement
This piece was inspired by Craig Brown’s New Prince2 Hypothesis.
Eight to Late 