“So what does that tell you about them?” I asked, interested to test a theory.

“That they’ve been really useless for the past couple of years,” my friend immediately replied.

There’s always a fine line when mentioning prestigious awards in a proposal. The fact that you were acclaimed “Company of the Year” this year means you’re at the top of your game, the very best in the industry. Why wouldn’t the buyers buy from you?

If it was the last calendar year’s prize then, hey, they might not yet have got round to holding the awards ceremony this year! But two or more years ago? There’s someone better than you out there whose been walking off with the silverware.

Even if you’re not the remaining champions, there can be certainly value in quoting a long list of successes that demonstrate a consistent level of excellence year-in, year-out. But if said list stumbles to an abrupt end three years ago, it feels to the potential customer as if you might be a little tired as a supplier, and that they might be better shopping elsewhere.

Recently, Jack and I approached a woman and her dog outside my local coffee shop. I introduced myself and Jack and inquired as to what type of dog hers was. This woman proceeded to tell me, at great length and with great detail, everything about this dog, her other two dogs, her husband, her three kids, her brother-in-law and, I think at one point, her neighbor’s son’s wife’s brother’s ex-girlfriend son. For a full 10 minutes she talked, non-stop, at warp speed, never asking me a question, showing no interest in me or my dog. I mentally checked out somewhere around minute 3, at which point I think she was going on about her mother being unable to have a dog because her latest boyfriend, of which there had apparently had been a few, was allergic. If this woman ever answered my question as to what type of dog hers was, I certainly don’t remember the answer.

I do remember that this woman was not someone I cared to speak to, and I recall trying to extract myself from her long winded dissertation of which I had zero interest after the first 15 seconds.

This one sided conversation, if I can call it that, was quite a bit like some of the poorer proposals I’ve reviewed.

This is clearly a case of the “theme” not matching the client’s needs. (There can’t be market for people who wish to be adventurous with their dry cleaning, can there?

Unfortunately, it’s not uncommon to see such a ms-match when a company’s overall theme is applied to a specific client who has different needs than those promoted by the overall theme. Thus the need for customizing/tailoring of theme statements.

Alas and sad to say, that hasn’t been my experience…and perhaps hasn’t been yours. Proposal people can shout from the roof tops and it will probably not be heard within the company.

Why is this? Familiarity may be part of it. What you’ve been saying for a long time might have become what they expect to hear and routine. Perhaps there’s a belief that the way proposals are done is the only way possible for lack of knowing anything different. Or perhaps it that it’s not being put in the right terms: terms that will resonate with the listener and cause the desired reaction. Most likely, it’s some combination of all of these.

My experience is that the recognition of a need to make improvements by Sr. management comes in a couple of different ways. The first is for the company to suffer a cataclysmic event. This might be losing an opportunity that was a “sure thing” and which everyone knew was “in the bag”. It might be from receiving scathing feedback about a submission, which causes a great deal of embarrassment for everyone, including Sr. management. I’ve seen change initiated when a new member of Sr. management, one that “gets it” when it comes to proposals, comes on board and recognizes the need for improving proposal capabilities.

But in my experience, change only happens with the support of Sr. management. Get that, and you’re better than half way there.

One sure way to get the attention of management is to conduct an assessment and establish a benchmark against standard, accepted criteria for the quality of your proposals and the processes you’re currently using. Ideally this will be done by an objective, recognized expert, giving “voice” and “volume” to what you may already know to be true or which you’ve been saying, only to have it fall on deaf ears.

Or you could just wait for that cataclysmic event.

Soon, sales staff were used to the mantra - is it real, do we want it, can we win it, can we do it? They started to expect us to probe, debate, play devil’s advocate, facilitate objective decision-making.

This particular proposal centre found itself in the fortunate position of being able – to an extent – to pick and choose which deals we supported. Before very long, one of the salespeople I’d known in my days as a purchaser arrived at our door. To say I didn’t rate the individual would be an understatement, but we humoured him, and supported his well-qualified opportunity. As was his wont, he then contrived to turn the golden egg into a recipe for disaster, and threw away what should have been a sure-fire win.

We conspired. What could we do? Soon, I struck on the solution with my senior team. Sure, the business’s qualification process had four questions, but our bid centre’s list extended to a fifth: is it real, do we want it, can we win it, can we do it, and is the account manager’s name Fred Smith?* Needless to say, we were after four ‘yes’es and a ‘no’.

Soon, Fred was on the phone. “I’ve got an RFP coming in next week: can you help?”

“Next week, Fred? So sorry, but we’re booked solid for at least the next month.”

“Right. Worth asking, though. Anyway, I’ve got another one coming in in three months’ time.”

“That’s be October, right?”

“Yes. They’re due to issue it on the 12th.”

“The 12th? Oh no. Not the 12th? I mean, we’re clear at the very start of the month, and we’ve got loads of capacity towards the end. But the fortnight around the 12th is our one busy period that month. Lots of holidays, three other big bids already scheduled. What bad luck.”

“Ah. Oh well, at least I’m in time to let you know about the proposal we’ll need to submit in December. That’s sixth months away.”

“And I’m so grateful to you for letting me know, Fred. It’s always great to get such clear advance notice: we really appreciate it. But we’re not able to forecast more than three months out: could you call me again in October?”
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* Name, needless to say, changed, just in case the individual concerned reads the blog!

Whatever the reason, this all but stopped me in my tracks. Try as I might to read on, I kept reflecting on it…and was ultimately unable to finish the article (which up until that point, had held my interest.

Seen a really inventive way to spell (ok, present might be a better term here) a word? Do let us know. And also let us know your reaction.

Some proposals I see are beautifully designed, wonderfully illustrated, printed on the finest paper, cleverly bound. And it’s really important that your documents look great and create a powerful impression, re-enforcing and setting the tone for the story your book wants to tell.

Yet without the substance to back it up - if all of the investment has gone into the look and feel, and none into (say) the strategy process or professional proposal writing support - then you might as well not have bothered. Your readers will be left feeling let down, short-changed, frustrated by a document that’s elegant yet insubstantial.

“Even a blind squirrel finds an acorn once in a while but that’s not an appropriate basis for a (successful) business model.”

Said differently, my professional opinion is that the percentage of responses which win a competitive opportunity in which there was no previous contact is below 1%….and I suspect is closer to 0% than to 1%.

I’ve stated in the past,

“If you haven’t been involved throughout the customer’s RFP process, ideally from conception, and/or don’t immediately recognize the opportunity as one for which you are uniquely positioned or in a position to effectively compete, throw the RFP away or use it to line your birdcage.”

And I stand by it.

“Is this internal or external negotiation?”

Now, as a proposal professional, the post-submission negotiation process falls outside my remit. That said, it’s frustrating if you do ever find yourself looking on as a team which you’ve coaxed so carefully and professionally through the proposal phase disintegrates as the deal moves closer to signature. You probably know the signs:

• Externally, the customer appears to have the team on the run. Hastily-convened, late night meetings (because “they need a reply by the morning”) seem to redesign the carefully-thought-through offer on the fly, offering more and more in return for less and less.
• Internally: remember those folks who assured you that this could be done? Who promised they’d provide the necessary resources and support? You know: those folks who no longer return the team’s calls, and seem to have buried their heads in the sand? ‘Cos we’re not actually going to *win* this and be expected to *deliver* it, are we?

Recognise the symptoms, anyone? And guess which one’s the more painful?

Always remember: the enemy lies within. (Or alternatively you could go and engage one of the negotiation skills experts out there, and sort out your approvals processes! But a bid wouldn’t be fun if it wasn’t painful, would it?!)

“customer demons”

I actually meant demos - of their systems - but somehow my version felt closer to the truth. Fortunately, I did check through the process document before handing over the draft…