I’ve written about this one before, but it deserves another look.
It was the last job I got via a recruiter. I know recruiters
are still a thing, and sometimes they even ping me with opportunities, but
recruiting has changed. Back then, it was still often an individual with deep
ties to the local tech community, someone who had a fat Rolodex and a memory
like a steel trap. I guess Indeed and Monster have mostly replaced guys like
Jeff.
The company was called Encompass. It was a nation-wide roll
up of specialty construction contractors – electrical and plumbing, as well as
some commercial janitorial services. Roll-ups were a very popular business
model in the 90s. There was an optimistic belief that “economies of scale”
would make any type of business more efficient and profitable.
The Houston headquarters were located in Greenway Plaza next
to the basketball arena that is now a notorious mega-church. My office was high
in the air with a view south of the Astrodome and the construction site of the
emerging Reliant stadium, now called the NRG stadium. Businesses come and go in
Texas, but football is forever.
The job, as it was explained, was the management of an ongoing project to implement an e-procurement system that was already in development.
As time went on, I came to realize that wasn’t a completely
accurate job description.
But for starters, I was excited to be managing such a big, strategic project. I was working hand-in-hand with the corporate procurement department, as represented by Andy. What Andy lacked in stature he more than made up for with courage and heart, and he turned out to be the best part of the entire adventure. The software development was being done by a tech company located in Atlanta, in whom Encompass had invested a significant amount of money. One of our first trips was to their Atlanta office, to work through outstanding design questions. I don’t think the term “tech-bro” had been invented yet, but this software company definitely had a lot of them. At our round tables, a couple of big problems quickly became evident. One was that their current software product was designed around a completely different purchasing model than we needed. It’s one thing to buy pencils and toilet paper in bulk to supply an office building. It’s an entirely different thing to order expensive electrical components for a multi-story commercial construction project. The other problem that we discovered was that “ongoing design and development” was a mischaracterization of our status. We didn’t have a functional design, much less any code.
Without a clear direction or scope, conversations devolved to debates around opinion. Tempers flared. People talked over each other. As the project manager, I knew it was my job to bring order and sanity to this chaos, but the bros were very bad at listening. At one point I just snapped, jumped to my feet, and left the conference room, slamming the door behind me so hard that the entire wall shook.
Andy told me later that after I exited, the entire room fell
silent. “I think we fucked up,” someone said.
So, we left Atlanta and went back to Houston. We figured out
that we needed to get input from the business units and procurement managers who
would actually be using this proposed system. We got permission and budget to
travel to a few key locations. The travel agent, a lady with red lips, hair,
and fingernails known as BJ, set us up with tickets and reservations, and we
were off. It was this road trip that really revealed Andy’s allyship and
character.
You see, construction companies just don’t have a lot of
women. And the ones who do work there are usually receptionists, HR, or
bookkeeping. In every meeting, I’d be the only woman in the room. And the men
naturally deferred to Andy.
“I’m not the project manager. Dino is. You need to listen to
her,” he would tell them bluntly. And then he’d shut up and sit down. He gave
them no choice.
They started talking. They told us about their processes,
their systems, their challenges, and their triumphs. They’d give us tours of
their fabrication facilities and show off their newest high-tech welding
equipment.
“Why aren’t you taking notes?” they’d ask me.
“She’ll remember every word,” Andy reassured them. “She’s scary smart.”
That road trip included some memorable experiences. Like jogging with Andy in Phoenix until he twisted his ankle and helping him hobble back to the hotel. Like staying in a hotel in Appleton Wisconsin that happened to have no hot water in January. Like driving across Mississippi in a taxi while Andy ordered roses for his wife to apologize for being “a jealous twit.” Like bantering with the hippie-chick bartender in Boulder who explained to us that she didn’t need pot any more since she discovered meditation and could connect with the creative force 24/7.
Back in Houston, we convened in my office and started making
process flows. We covered every inch of the walls. Some truths began to emerge
that we just couldn’t ignore.
1. Our branch locations were operating on a dozen
or more disparate back-office systems (off the shelf and bespoke) that were not
compatible with each other or with the e-procurement system we were proposing.
2. Some of our branch locations had already
developed integrated purchasing and invoicing with their key vendors and had no
interest in disrupting processes that were already working.
3. The base cost of purchased products was a minor
consideration compared to the big benefits of vendor services like staging,
packaging, delivery, and return of unused goods. Having a long-term
relationship with a vendor who provided these was very important to the
construction projects. Any systems that disrupted this relationship would be
rejected.
As I reported these findings back to the IT director and
indirectly to the CIO, reality started to bubble to the surface. The project I
was desperately trying to make succeed had been conceived and funded as a pet
project by the COO and had been actively opposed by the CIO, who had instead advocated
for convergence on a standardized back-office platform. Hiring an IT project
manager (me) was a concession the COO made after significant push-back. The CIO
neither expected nor particularly wanted my project to succeed.
So, fun.
“What we need,” the CIO told me, “Is to put together a
presentation for the board with a complete ROI for the project.”
So, back to spreadsheets and PowerPoint. Andy and I wrestled
with the numbers. The numbers didn’t cooperate.
“You can’t use headcount reduction as a cost-savings,” the
CIO told us. Back to the spreadsheets again.
The day of the board meeting arrived. In suit and heels, I presented
my slide deck. The COO sat and watched me with a cold narrowed gaze.
“This is my last day on this job,” I thought to myself, as I
carefully and thoroughly explained why they should cancel my project.
They cancelled the project. But they didn’t fire me. So that
was good anyway.
