Thinking About Arrows, Huh?
So, you want to talk about the efficacy and role of an arrow? Most folks think it’s simple. You get a bow, you get an arrow, you point it at something, and bam, job done. Target hit. If only life, or work, or anything really, was that straightforward.
An arrow, see, it’s not just about the pointy end and what it’s supposed to hit. Its real “efficacy” is often in what it reveals, what it stirs up, or even the spectacular ways it can miss. And its “role”? Sometimes it’s to teach you that you’re aiming at the wrong darn thing altogether, or maybe that you shouldn’t be using an arrow in the first place, you know?
The “SureShot 5000” Fiasco
Why am I so wound up about a simple arrow? Let me tell you about the “SureShot 5000.” That wasn’t its real name, of course, but that’s what management paraded around as this new, all-singing, all-dancing project management software they bought. This was supposed to be our magic arrow. Guaranteed to hit every deadline, every target, make us all super productive. Cost a boatload, too. The “efficacy” promised was something out of a fairy tale.
I was roped into the pilot team. “You’re practical, George,” they said, “you’ll get this thing flying straight.” Famous last words, eh? This “arrow” was so clunky, so rigid, it was like trying to shoot a wet sock. You spent more time fiddling with the damn thing, trying to get it ready, than actually aiming. Simple tasks that took five minutes now involved wrestling with twelve sub-menus and begging for three levels of approval. Productivity didn’t go up; it took a nosedive, straight into the ground.
The “role” of this SureShot 5000? It turned into a massive black hole, sucking up time and everyone’s will to live. We had meetings about how to use the software, then more meetings. Training sessions for the training sessions. It got so bad, people started creating these secret spreadsheets on the side, shadow systems, just to get actual work done. The whole thing was clearly designed by someone who’d never managed a real project in their entire life. It was all theory, no common sense. Like an arrow fletched by someone who’d only read about birds but never seen one fly. It looked shiny on the brochure, but in the real world, it couldn’t hit the side of a mountain.
I remember this one afternoon, our department head, a proper old-school fella who trusted his gut and a yellow legal pad more than any computer, he tried to log a simple progress update. Took him a solid forty-five minutes, button mashing and swearing under his breath, and he somehow managed to wipe the entire project timeline for a completely different team. The chaos that followed was biblical. That was the day I truly understood the “efficacy” of this particular arrow – its main effect was to sow confusion and make good, competent people look like total buffoons.
Now, you’re probably wondering why I’m getting all worked up and know this stuff in such agonizing detail. Well, because after three months of this utter shambles, the whole pilot program blew up in our faces. Spectacularly. And naturally, they needed someone to pin it on, a scapegoat for why their “unbeatable” magic arrow wasn’t just missing the target but flying backwards. And guess who was the “practical” guy, the one who’d been politely (at first) pointing out all the glaring flaws from day one? Bingo. Yours truly. I wasn’t fired, not outright. But my next performance review? It was a work of art, a masterpiece of corporate jargon about “failing to embrace innovative methodologies” and “exhibiting resistance to progressive change.” I was effectively put out to pasture. My entire career trajectory in that department got torpedoed, all because of that cursed “arrow.”
I eventually wrangled a transfer to a totally different section, doing something completely out of left field, just to escape the lingering stench of the SureShot 5000. And you know what the kicker is? Last I heard, they quietly mothballed that software. All that money, all that wasted time, down the drain. But did they ever admit it was a bad arrow? Nope. Not a chance. It was always couched in vague terms like “we weren’t culturally ready for it” or “the strategic implementation required further resource allocation.” Classic.
So, when I think about an arrow’s efficacy and role, I don’t just picture some archer hitting a bullseye. I think about the hype, the cold hard reality, and all the unexpected messes it can create. Sometimes, the most effective thing an arrow does is clearly show you who’s a fool for buying it in the first place, and who’s an even bigger fool for trying to force everyone else to shoot it. And its role? Well, in my little story, it was a pretty efficient way to send my career off in a completely new direction, wasn’t it? Not exactly the target I was aiming for back then, but hey, that’s life with these pointy sticks.
