It takes all sorts

By Julie Ahadi

One of my less glamourous jobs post-uni was working as a temp for an advertising agency (I believe that’s how they thought of themselves), cutting and pasting classified dating ads into a Word template. I really have no idea what the purpose of that was–I was saving up to go to Israel at the time and didn’t feel like asking questions. That was until I started reading the content. Some of the things people disclosed about themselves really were quite odd.

In a quest to find Mr. Right–bearing in mind that the cost of each ad was priced by the word–one lady chose to describe herself as “fat, ugly and would accept anyone that would have her”. In a similarly self-defacing vein, (although I fear that wasn’t the intention) another gentleman described himself as “a Phil Mitchell lookalike” (a skinheaded bruiser from UK TV soap EastEnders) who “likes most things and owns eight motorbikes”. Verbatim.

Sure, there were the dull, predictable requests for romance and a GSOH, but it was the shockingly honest/desperate/delusional types, and, beyond that, the people who spoke in code*, that caught my attention.

The funny thing is that this wasn’t the last time in my professional life I would have a chance to be amused by the things people say when they’re given the licence to say anything:

Over the course of the year, we speak to hundreds of very senior clients right around the world, an activity that’s an integral part of both our core research programmes and bespoke consultancy projects.

Clients clearly appreciate the opportunity to speak to a knowledgeable but impartial intermediary about their experiences. Which means that alongside the standard fare (“we’d like them to implement not just advise”) we get some juicier stuff. Some, to be fair, choose to be tactful, and leave it to us to read between the lines. But others seize the opportunity to be brutally honest. For example, one very senior client we spoke to recently said she’d rather kill herself than work again with a particular partner, but then went on, quite-level headedly, to talk about supply chain management in the next breath. That particular instance is a useful reminder of how opinions about a firm can be turned on their head because of the appointment of a single person, but under the shield of anonymity–and provided they’re talking to someone they respect and trust–many other truths are revealed as starkly as the fat ugly lady revealed hers (I’m sure she wasn’t that bad…).

Giving people an anonymous platform to provide feedback about something they’d really prefer to get right in future, be it a lover, a spouse, or an IT consultant, can provide some surprising results. And in a professional world where straight-talking is often difficult to come by, that kind of honesty is something we’re proud and privileged to have access to.

We are currently conducting client interviews for our 2017 Consulting Market Programme, and, for those brave enough, we are providing consulting firms with the opportunity to put Source in touch with their clients in return for a pack of anonymised client feedback and analysis (click here for more detail). Please contact Laura Pisani-Ferry for more information.

* The frequency to which enjoyment of “walking Cocker Spaniels” got a mention roused my suspicions (rightly) and “Black & Decker” in this context has nothing to do with home improvements.