The Project Management Manifesto, Part I
‘So what do you do?’
You know the question, and if you’re like me it makes you cringe. Problem is that it is nearly unanswerable. The truth of the matter is that as a project manager in the property industry my job involves being a babysitter, a pest, a mediator, a postbox (something comes in to me and I happily push it back out to someone else) and glorified paper shuffler; I write with fancy words like ‘pursuant’, sit in the middle of competing interests, attempt to be fair and reasonable, keep time, and bounce along within a messy, complicated, frustrating, and often lonely world that each and every project represents. But that’d be too long of a response.
It’s also a nearly unavoidable question for me, because I have a hard time turning down free food and drink. This results in always finding myself at property industry social functions, where I am expected to be somewhat… social. Unfortunately it’d be frowned upon if I simply turned up, found a comfortable corner, helped myself to a few drinks and nibbles and then quietly excused myself without actually making an effort at being social and acknowledging some of the nice people who invited me in the first place. So with my conscience getting the best of me, there I am, making an attempt to awkwardly talk to people, and inevitably the question comes up: ‘So what do you do?’
Me: ‘I am a project manager.’
‘Interesting… (body language indicates not really that interesting, or some level of scorn). What does that entail?’
‘I manage projects.’
You can see why I get on so well at parties.
Recently I have been searching for a proper definition of a project manager, something in between the mundane one I trot out at parties and the semi-accurate-but-rambling one, and it’s not been an easy task. Sometimes so much of the focus of my job falls on the monthly writing of Project Control Group reports — the evil PCG reports — that I feel like that’s all there is and my work life has regressed into something resembling the movie Office Space.
It’s a bit of an existential crisis, really, thinking about what it is that I do as a project manager, why it matters (does it even matter?) and, as importantly, what does it take to be good? This piece is about the the What, and here’s what I’ve come up with.
You’re responsible for everything. As PM, you’re going to be looked to by your beloved client to be on top of all questions of time, cost, issues, risk, what the weather was like yesterday, and you’ll be the one given the hard stare when one of these things is not going well. So you need to be ready.
You’re responsible for nothing. As PM, you’ve got limited control over time, cost, issues, risk and the weather. Typically these things are being delivered and attended to by others, so as much as you can put what you feel are handy processes in place for keeping things in line, despite your best efforts things will not run smoothly. So you need to be ready.
You’re an organisational wizard. Sitting at the top of the pyramid, a PM will often be faced with dozens of balls that are in the air at any one time, often while the real game continues on in the background. Being a master juggler is key: Failing to keep on top of all the balls in the air, and failure to prioritise will only lead you and ultimatey the project into a tailspin.
You make decisions. Projects come to a screetching halt when decisions are not being made. A PM is the person who is often looked to for the decisions, so one needs to be comfortable doing this, and often times it’ll be without having definitive information to go on. Don’t be reckless, but don’t be a slug either.
You’re a people person, even if you’re not a people person. Most projects involve a variety of people, and they’re all different animals: different backgrounds, motivations, constraints, and hold ups, each requiring a slightly different tact. The PM must orchestrate all of these different parts into a well oiled machine that is perpetually moving forward.
Being a PM is not far off from being a train engineer. You’re not really steering; the rails are doing that. You’re not moving things along; the engine is doing that. You’re not deciding where to go; someone else has picked the destination. But it is important that you’re there keeping a watchful eye over the controls making sure the track is clear, the engine is in good working order and has enough fuel, and that you’re going to get the train to the station on time.
I have no doubt that I’ll find myself at a social function sometime soon, and will be faced once again with that same question — what do you do? And I think that after percolating the question in my mind my answer will not change, however I’ll be able to do so with confidence now that I know what’s behind it, and I’ll no longer feel the need cringe. Cringing does not go well with drinks and nibbles.
I manage projects.
This is Part I of my manifesto on project management, and if you liked Part I, keep your eyes open for Part II, where now that I’ve figured out what project manager does, what does it take to do it well?
