Science Fairs, Group Projects, and Proposals

Okay, show of hands – who has had to participate in a school science fair or work on a group project?

I don’t mean just the traditional, American educational system rite of passage, paper maché volcano model with the vinegar, bicarbonate soda and red food dye lava. I’m talking about a genuine counts-toward-your-final-grade science project. The kind where the teacher goes over the basic scientific method (Observation – Hypothesis – Experiment – Results) and asks you to present your results. Given my geeky background and nature, I’ve always had a strong appreciation for and interest in science, but my not-so-great mathematical talent and average science grades (I barely survived Algebra and Calculus, and nearly flunked Chemistry) confirm that I didn't miss my calling as an English major. Even though I didn’t test well in math and science, I enjoyed learning about the sciences (especially Astronomy, and I can even give you a pretty competent explanation about many astronomical phenomena…just don’t ask me to show my work).

But when time came for me to do a science project, I always lacked a strong aptitude toward the scientific process. In fact, the only science project I can clearly remember was back in middle school, spending weeks struggling over what to do and how to do it. I appealed to my parents, friends – anyone who might have a spark of an idea to inspire me. I finally fell back on some science project book that outlined experiments for observing the spectra created by different types of ink on paper towels soaked in water. I remember my Dad being understandably underwhelmed by my efforts and my teacher giving me a not-so-well-earned C as a “at least he tried” token grade. But I still remember the frustration and seemingly endless conversations over what to do and how to do it, all resulting in a weak idea, minimal effort, and nebulous results, at best.

On the other hand, my parents might’ve been grateful that my efforts didn’t cross moral/ethical lines or require an uncomfortable conversation with the NIH.

NOTE: I DO NOT CONDONE any kind of abuse of or mistreatment to animals. Seriously, I donate to the ASPCA and all of my pets have been rescues.

I can safely say that the experience clarified and solidified the mindset that pursuing a career in science wasn’t a good idea. This probably spared my family many future arguments and stress, too.

Whether in school or at work, working on a project involving a team of people can be one of the most challenging and stressful experiences you can imagine. There’s the sheer amount of work to attain your goal and/or produce the required product. Trying to sort out the social dynamics of disparate personalities brought together…usually against their will. The heated discussions and open arguments over each group member’s interpretation of the project. And the inevitable by design or organic sorting out of responsibilities for each piece of the work. We’re all accustomed to doing work or getting things done according to our own preferences, comfort zones, and talents/abilities. Simply put, we like to do work our own way. Group projects remind us just how different our way of doing things is from others, and just how counter-intuitive it can be for everyone involved to adjust to each person’s style and personality. I’m sure we’ve all had the stereotypical experience of how the group work pans out.

A proposal involves:

• Observation: Tasks outlined in the SOW or PWS.
• Hypothesis: Business Development and capture intel as the basis for the response.
• Experiment: Proposed solution – how you respond to the client and demonstrate understanding.
• Results: Proof that your solution will provide what the client needs as per their expectations.

Like many scientific explorations, a proposal can seem like an intangible puzzle that requires a considerable amount of intelligence, logic and reason to figure out. Probably the worst-case scenario is the unexpected, out-of-nowhere RFP. It’s a familiar story – an RFP drops sooner than expected or it’s one that someone happens to find and wants to take an unprepared swing at. Immediately, you find yourself trying to accomplish months of prep work (e.g., capture intel, finding teaming partners, solutioning) in days while developing a workable schedule, build templates, and find writers who are willing and available to step up to the plate. Sometimes, you’re just not ready, and like my middle school science project, you barely have a solution or set of win themes, limited understanding of the client or the work, someone does a surprise review post-Gold Team, and/or you need Thor's mystical hammer Mj?lnir to pound square-peg capabilities and past performances into the requirement's round holes.

And depending on progress, content development may go in unexpected directions or evolve in ways you weren’t counting on. How many times have we begun a proposal effort with a clear vision or annotated outline, and by the time you’re rounding the post-Red Team corner, there are massive revisions, new capture intel generating second thoughts, or the Q&A throws in a few unpleasant surprises? In any case, proposals can start behaving like an experiment that’s about to go off the rails like a superhero/supervillain origin story, or someone needing to ask if they’re missing an eyebrow.

I’ve worked on more than a few proposals where the final submitted document looks a lot different than the Pink Team version. On the other hand, I’ve engaged in several efforts with next to no pre-RFP work that resulted in well-developed and even winning proposals.

The other reality here is many, if not most, proposal efforts are group or team experiences. They’re a conglomeration of subject matter experts, middle and upper management, capture/BD staff, consultants, graphic artists, pricing personnel, contract administrators, teaming partners, and plenty of reviewers. And if deciphering the paradoxical ins and outs of an RFP weren’t hard enough, proposal managers have to be task masters, referees, and diplomats among coworkers and teaming partners with conflicting agendas/egos, tight schedules, and overloaded “day job” responsibilities.

I won’t speak for other proposal pushers, but my biggest challenge with any proposal effort is making sure everyone is on task or kept current on progress. Whether it’s a handful of writers, or a massive team of contributors from multiple companies, it’s a nearly full-time job going over the response document in stand up meetings, asking the team their status and if they need help, and maddening when you go into the document later and find that the content is either not anywhere close to the refined, compelling words you need them to write…or even in the document. Pretty soon, the concept of “herding cats” may seem quaint and more realistic by comparison, or you begin to realize just how much you wish proposal work really was just a one-person job.

While proposals can test anyone’s patience and ability to play nice with others, it’s important to remember that not everyone on a proposal team may be happy to be on it. Many are drafted against their wills, already have too much work on their plates, are far better at doing the work than explaining it in understandable prose, or have never written a word of proposal content in their lives. Others may just not share the enthusiasm behind bidding on the work. That isn’t to say every team is like that. I’ve worked on many teams with massive enthusiasm and drive to crank out a winning proposal. And as with many enthusiastic team members I’ve worked with, there are others who would rather eat their own organs. However, if everyone involved is responsible and doing their job, then they should either want to be there or agree that their knowledge and experience are vital and necessary for winning the contract.

Either way, they need to be treated well – a happy team is a productive one.

That is...unless you want to be covered in explosive slime holding a token participation trophy next to the science fair’s first prize winner.