Eight to Late

Mother Goose for Project Managers - version 0.001:

Little Jack Horner
Little Jack Horner sat in the corner,
watching his budget run dry.
Said he to the sponsor, “The project’s a goner.
and I reckon, so am I.”

Hickory-dickory dock
Hickory-dickory dock
The PM’s in shock.
The project’s aground;
the clock’s run down.
Hickory-dickory dock

Jack be nimble
Jack be nimble,
Jack be quick.
Dodge responsibility,
for it tends to stick.

Hey diddle diddle
Hey diddle diddle, the schedule’s a fiddle.
The deadline’s near; it’s too soon.
The sponsor won’t smile when he sees what’s been done,
especially after being promised the moon.

Hush-a-bye PM
Hush-a-bye PM, on a timeline.
Better wake up now, things aren’t so fine.
The scope is a-creeping, are you on the ball?
No change management will be your downfall.

Schedule, Schedule
Schedule, schedule on the wall,
the PM’s going to take the fall.
’cause everyone can plainly see,
his timeline’s but a fantasy.

The PM can’t sleep
The PM can’t sleep, he’s counting sheep.
The project is what’s troubling him.
Changes galore. Tell you what’s more -
there’s no money left to fund ‘em.

Blah blah PM
Blah blah PM, spouting bull.
I can’t take anymore, my plate’s full.
The workload here is driving me insane.
So I’m leaving for a gig with the mob down the lane.

With apologies to Robert Frost - and a colleague who shall remain nameless.

Whose work this is I think I know.
He hasn’t done a good job though.
He will not see me over here,
reading his drivel pure as snow.
The office cleaners  think it queer
that I’m still working, though midnight’s near.
Between you and me - it’s late,
on the darkest night of the year.
I give my poor head a shake,
and wonder, “Why so many mistakes?”
The only other sound’s the sweep
of the vacuum cleaner’s swift intake.
Slumber beckons, long and deep,
but I have this job to keep,
And files to go before I sleep,
And files to go before I sleep.

A manager’s response to A corporate IT tragedy in five limericks:

I see you have taken offence.
But axing your job made good sense.
You had to go
to save us some dough,
and that’s why you are in past tense.

It broke our hearts to do it,
but it’s because of the market.
Our bottom line
has to climb
a long way to make us a profit.

Let me say this just between us:
For savings, on me was the onus.
And it’s better to see
you gone, than me.
It may even earn me a bonus.

I know you will soon secure
another big fat sinecure.
Where you’ll do no work,
and continue to shirk,
while gaining promotions galore.

And so I bid you adieu;
and many good wishes to you.
See, writing bad verse
may feel good at first,
but later you may just get sued.

They tell me my job’s on the line
I think it’s for real this time.
The bosses, they say,
“Your job’s going away,
it’s heading for sunnier climes.”

This time it’s gone really far.
I reckon they’ve been reading Carr.
Who tells us that IT,
is just a utility.
Strategic it isn’t, for sure.

Consequences of centralization -
servers in another nation.
Miles away from here.
Too far, I fear;
QoS goes to hell - “Oh damnation!”

Every little bit and byte
traverses a long and thin pipe.
All the way to our users
who’ve become snoozers,
waiting for docs from last night.

I know the circle will turn.
But not before users get burned,
by rotten support.
They’ll see it’s a rort,
then bring the whole darn thing back home.

If you enjoyed this piece, you may like to read my project management tragedy in five limericks. Feedback is welcomed via your comments.

I’ve written a project tragedy in limerick form earlier, so I thought I’d try an elegy this time.

Those interested in sampling a real elegy written by  a real poet will do well to read Elegy on the death of a mad dog  by Oliver Goldsmith, instead of my sorry attempt below. Anyway, for what it’s worth, here’s my first (and I promise, last!)  elegy commemorating the failure of a project.

All ye PMs far and wide,
listen to this tale.
Of a project gone awry,
and verily doomed to fail.

It started many moons ago,
with a project plan
mapping how to reach the goal
within the time in hand.

Requirements were discussed,
in meetings way too long.
Where many stakeholders fussed
over details right and wrong.

The small and petty arguments
over matters rather trifling,
stalled signoff of documents,
causing a delay in starting .

Then all went well for a bit,
as deliverables were crafted.
Until, alas, the tech lead quit,
to the competition he defected.

The PM hunted high and low
for a replacement.
But despite the perks and dough
there was no applicant.

Progress slowed to a drag
as the days went by.
Team morale started to sag
and there was no wonder why.

The PM was soon commanded,
to explain the sorry state.
The powers that be demanded
his head on a plate.

So ends this tale so drawn
of a PM and his team.
Fortunately I woke this morn,
realising ’twas  a dream.