Proposal Land

Better RFP Responses & Management
 
Proposal Land

Part-Time Proposal Work

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Part-time proposal work: It’s an oxymoron. Heavy on the moron.

As I wrap up my last, last-ever proposal, and in my 70th year (as my husband is fond of reminding me, and yet he lives), I realize for perhaps the 70th time that I really can’t fix stupid. Stupid requirements. Stupid deadlines. Stupid corporate processes. Stupid expectations. Stupid people. Oh, sorry, that was my outside voice.

And, um, stupid me. Stupid for thinking if I just try harder, if I just try this other technique, that this time it will be different. Better, you know?

It’s always different. It’s rarely better.

As I waded through this last swamp, keyboard held high over my head, I heard from a proposal editor I know: another woman of a certain age and then some. She, too, was finding it harder and harder to keep up the required effort. How had it worked for me, she wondered, the “it” being my stated commitment to limiting my work hours. To limiting work so that I could keep up with my exercise program. So that I could keep up with my blogging, personal and professional. So that I could give the best that I’m capable of.

Well, not well. This last, last-ever proposal saw me working twice as hard as I wanted for twice as long as anyone expected.

How do you spell ‘extension’?
D-e-s-p-a-i-r

Is it always that bad? No.

Can you control how bad it gets? No. Once you cross the commitment line, you’re committed.

And so I think again of the guy whose company put fast-burners in the proposal department for 24 months max.

 

That’s, um, not stupid. Someone has to set a limit.

I know. I just reached mine. For the last time, I reached my limit for working on proposals. For maybe the first time, sadly, I reached my limit for believing that trying harder, trying different, would be enough. The problem with the proposal environment does not lie in me; the fix is not within my control.

Does it drive me crazy? Sure. Does it change what I have to do? No. So this is me, controlling what I can control: Me.

Go, thou, and do likewise, whatever that looks like. Proposal Land can be an OK, even a good, place to work. Just don’t try to live there. That would be, well, stupid. You can trust me on this.

 

Proposal Haiku #2

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If you’re late to this party, stop, and check out the history, here.

I’m getting down to the last weeks of my last, last proposal. I won’t say I’m burned out, but it’s a near thing.

Jumpiness inside;
crankiness outside, I hear.
Shoulders won’t settle.

One of the most irritating things about trying to take a break is that I can’t. Tired, the brain still rattles on at a mile a minute – or a kilometre every 37.5 seconds – and I keep being drawn back to the work. I don’t want a break: I want to be done.

Inside? Can’t focus.
Outside? Agitation rules.
Ahead? Less, I hope.

This is a good time to remind myself that what matters to the executives — the win — is not something I can hang my hat or my heart on. What matters in the moment is the task, but in the long term what matters is the people.

Exhaustion is all.
Does any of this matter?
Yes, but not the win.

 

Just Three Vertices

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Almost every project comes in a little bit late
and a little bit over budget.

Oh, that wacky Seth. What a cute idea: a project coming in “a little bit” late.

In Proposal Land, of course — well, in public-sector procurement and strict (i.e. large) private-sector procurement — there is no such thing as “a little bit” late. Late is late. Late is catastrophic. Late could be the end of your career. The end of all your hopes and dreams.

Well, let’s not get carried away. It’s just work.

But late is late. And it doesn’t fly.

But something’s gotta give. If not schedule, then what?

Cost? Sure, theoretically, although I’ve never (ever) seen a company add resources after, say, the Red Team review. Reassign? Absolutely. Add? Never. (And it’s not even clear that adding out-of-the-loop resources in the end stages would actually make things go faster. Adding more people at the outset? Sure. It’s still rarely done.)

But in addition to cost and schedule the project-management triangle has another vertex: performance. And that’s what’s gotta give.

It’s going to cost more than we thought,
it won’t have all the bells and whistles we can see are possible,
but it will, by golly, be on time.

That’s what the powers-that-be — and you, and I — have to come to terms with. Or a challenging work environment becomes an abusive one as *they* push the team to do more with the same amount of time — or we push ourselves.

 

Red Team: Reason for Being

 

What’s the primary point of Red Team?

Is it to improve the proposal with the superior insight that comes from the elevated status and greater wisdom of seniors, organization-wise?

Is it to harass the proposal team by repeatedly pointing out the same obvious flaw in the document?

Is it to force the proposal team to finish their sections to the stage that they can be reviewed?

I’ll take Door #3, Alex.

In 30 years in this business, I have heard maybe 10 ideas from Red Team that I couldn’t have come up with on my own, given the time to breathe. Ten ideas: risk-management approaches, presentation enhancements, document organization improvements, creative presentation tricks, out-of-the-box ways of looking at questions. Ten.

But if I hadn’t had to get my sections ready for review, I wouldn’t have forced myself to conclusion on a hundred or a thousand times that many items. I wouldn’t have got around to thinking about the document from an outsider’s point of view. I wouldn’t have finished, likely.

Is it really only 10 new ideas from all those Red Teams? Could it be even fewer? Maybe. Could it be a few more? Sure.  Dunno and don’t care, really. Nothing hinges on the exact number: the order-of-magnitude is right. The point is this: Red Teams add the bulk of their value simply by existing as a hurdle for the proposal team. Any truly bright ideas they come up with are a bonus.

That’s good for proposal teams to remember. It’s even better for Red Team to remember it.