Competitive advantage. The consulting rooms of real life.

Legal disclaimer
This is episode 4 of a fictional series around the lives and times of the McKinsey Sports Practice in London. It could be named after any elite firm. All characters are invented, and any resemblance to anyone, or any organisation, is purely coincidental. Events are the fruit of a warped imagination and a sense of never taking oneself too seriously.

 

Previously on Competitive Advantage…

(…) Monique put on her coat, quickly. Stanley and she both knew at this point, realising that it was for the best if the evening ended tout de suite. They hugged at the door, and the Englishman, well out of his comfort-zone by now, started to stutter some kind of rationalisation of the evening.

I will never forget this kindness. It is the first time I’ve really seen them be truly happy since it happened.

She tightened the grip of her embrace. Stanley, this time, was the one in raw panic…

Monique, I don’t know what this is, but I don’t think it can work; it’s a bad idea…

She put her finger to his lips…

Sshh, you English always think too much. Si ce sont des roses, elles fleuriront.

She kissed him, properly, lowered her gaze, turned and walked away. Stanley closed the door.

In a daze. (…)

 

Season 1, Episode 4.   Toxic Masculinity?

Stanley of course wouldn’t sleep that night. It would be one of those where pillows only ever remain fresh for 30secs, duvets are too warm underneath, and too cold on top, when the brain simply refuses to shut down. To say nothing of the heart, having a rare old time, bouncing off the rib cage.

So he sat up, and glanced at the wedding photo on the dressing table; it was many years now since the illness had taken her. What was he really expecting her to say to him?

It’s time to move on, you have my blessing.

 

Photographs don’t speak…

… no matter how much you hope and imagine they do.

His wife, Catherine, had always been the perfect companion, his rock, as he climbed to the very top of the firm in his 20s. Without him ever realising, she had dampened his alpha-male testosterone in all the right moments, tempered the superiority complex that guys like Stanley will always have. She had encouraged him to push when it was time, but also pragmatically withdraw from the battlefield when the political risk/return wasn’t adding up. And she did all that whilst raising the kids, and somehow squeezing in being a much-sought-after psychology coach at a City trading desk. She could read men like the back of her hand, and they all reacted to her “manipulation” every single time.

Since she passed, he had been different; less gun-slinger, more house-husband. His approach to work had become measured and wise, as the rising macro tide was making it unnecessary for him to still be Alexander the Great. Growth was steady and acceptable. He was happy and contented.

No, she wouldn’t have said that it was time, or given her blessing. That’s the truth.

She’d have counselled him that it was simply impossible and impractical. A close colleague, the crush of his young pupil George, an HR minefield, and all that before commenting on Monique herself.

Catherine had met her as a young girl just starting in her husband’s team. Truth be told, she never liked her. Maybe she saw a younger model of herself, worthy competition and a threat.

Talent and quality can always see their ilk a mile away. Takes one to know one.

The whole sleep idea was, obviously, a non-starter and Stanley cut his losses. They were showing Casino Royale when he switched on the TV in his bedroom.

I would ask you if you could remain emotionally detached, but I don’t think that’s your problem. Is it Bond?

Stanley stared at the screen, and in some way a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders right there and then.

“Emotionally detached”?

He reflected on how Craig’s whole demeanour had dissipated over the 5 films. Here, he was simply inspiring, as the author intended.

 

Something clicked.

He showered, popped his head around the girls’ bedrooms, saw them still asleep, safe and happy, and opened his laptop. If the brain won’t go to sleep, best use it. He scrolled emails and notifications.

 

 

Boom times were absolutely over, he concluded. The era of cheap capital, fuelling optimism and profitless growth, was at an end. True generally, true for sports, media and entertainment, true for services providers like his firm.

 

Time to remember his role, and react.

Time to reassess his business and his team. And time to lead.

Stanley was old enough to have been here before. Offering consulting for top-line growth always, at some point, morphs into then advising on cost-cutting and restructuring. The ebbs and flows of a business cycle. You just needed to refresh your slide decks, websites, and corporate brochures to a different tone of voice. Metaphorically “game” the SEO for words like: efficiency, synergy, pivot, rationalisation, M&A, niche strategies.

He would still be pitching his firm’s services, but now appealing more to fear, uncertainty and defence, rather than glory, hubris and ambition. It’s always that game of two halves and he knew this dynamic well, even if others probably didn’t, including Monique and certainly George.

The children of the Kool-Aid years have never seen a real recession.

He emailed his PA to prepare a working lunch that afternoon, to also include the heads of the sport-adjacent pods in FMCG, Media and Telecoms, both of whom reported to him. Bring the junior staff too. It’s time they saw the real world, he smiled.

 

Every so often, someone needs to be whacked.

No way today was going to be like last night, all naked, sensitive and vulnerable. Full of hesitation.

He put on the suit with the heaviest pinstripe, and the 3-piece waistcoat, mauve power tie. Game face and best armour applied.

“Am I going to have a problem with you, Mr Bond?”

Stanley had always liked that line. Today you are, he smirked.

He went downstairs to prepare some fruit and granola for the girls, and on cue they stumbled into the open breakfast bar overlooking the garden. They were still full of Monique-enthusiasm.

She’s so cool. Not like you said. Sweet and funny. Really smart.

The dreaded:

Do you like her, daddy?

Don’t get used to her girls! She’s someone I work with, and I’m her boss, so I can’t get too friendly. We will ask her and George over again occasionally, but let’s not get over the skis on this one, shall we? You both may still be in school, but I certainly am not.

By the time Stanley got in the car, he had already dismissed everything he had just said about his girls’ new French friend. Reason and accountability is overrated.

He exchanged the usual pleasantries with the driver, inevitably about West Ham and Luke Littler. Eddie never had much to say about tennis and rugby. Funny that.

It was a damp heavy morning in Holland Park, the ones you hated as a kid for Saturday sports. The dew never lifts, the wet ground sucks at your feet, laces wet and floppy, and you can’t get past the dullard tackler with the usual drop of the shoulder. The ball doesn’t fly as far, and it’s all gonna be a grind. The smell of liniment is stronger, and that correlates perfectly to seeing the true colours of the sand-dancers, the good-time Charlies, the ones who don’t have the stomach when the chips are down. Those who hide from a pass when you need to chase the game.

It was a day more Dave MacKay than Glen Hoddle.

Stanley spent the morning reviewing his year’s budget, and from where he had forecast the fees would come. At every line item, every named client, he questioned himself:

Are these people now even able to pay the size of fees we need, and do they really think they are getting value-for-money?

 

What is it we actually do for them? We don’t raise capital; we don’t really help them with business development. No, we assess which of their staff is worthy of actually listening to, and then we note down everything that person tells us. We go and do some research about the main levers and trends of the sector, get some benchmarking around best-in-breed, do some copy-and-pasting from other client work in the knowledge library, and we report back to them what they already know. What they, in fact, told us.

 

In a bear market, and especially given what AI can now gather itself, that’s just not gonna hack it anymore. The bar of what is value-for-money will be much higher, and we will need to raise our game.

David Mackay indeed, he thought. 

 

He dug out the video that secretly was doing the rounds in the firm. 

 

Satire and parody cuts the deepest, leaves a serious boot in, as it always points to some element of painful truth.

(For those tickled by these consulting jokes… Follow this account.)

 

His PA told him that the group had assembled. They were all there.

Showtime…

Morning everyone.

They were about a dozen people, and he glanced around the room to grab everyone’s eye. Her’s too, but with no special acknowledgement of the “pleasantries” of the previous night. He extended a welcome to those from Media/Telecoms and FMCG, remembering his intense dislike for the overly-curated hipster beards on show.

 

The first five minutes are always key.

Every meeting’s success, every match’s success, is determined in the first five minutes. He knew that!

Ladies and gentlemen, and whatever else you consider out there now, the world has changed, and not all of you will be here in 6 months. We will all eat what we kill, and some of you will just starve to death. Sorry.

 

There is no more space on this boat for passengers, gentle souls, and those waiting to be given some Blue Peter project by mummy and daddy. Merely being good at processing homework placed in your in-tray won’t work for me. That’s bull market thinking. Every one of you needs to be selling, earning fees, with ideas that are convincing and novel. 

He played the parody video, and noted the reactions of each person. That in itself would contribute to determining their imminent fate. Those now placing themselves on Death Row were oblivious.

These things start like a joke but before you know it, they become accepted wisdom. I don’t know about you, but I didn’t spend 30 years building this firm to end up a punchline in a fucking meme. McKinsey is THE brand of excellence in insight and problem solving. They pay us seven figures for that association and, frankly, you people aren’t earning your salary. You’re going through the motions, flat. Speaking in clichés and truisms. Being average. Undermining MY FUCKING BRAND.

He had a terrifying voice, when raised like this, and the atmosphere in precisely four minutes had in fact changed. Even George and Monique exchanged glances. They had seen Stanley as Mr Angry before, but not like this. Not mean and dangerous like this.

Ian Fleming was, on reflection, exactly to blame.

Monique, of course, had more context on Stanley’s mood than the Scunthorpe lad, but even she, her of unflappable French nonchalance, was getting a bit agitated. Deep down, she found this frisson all rather exciting. In every single way.

 

Stanley dialled it up. Safe Zones no more.

I’m tired of you people having your little anonymous entitled moans on Fishbowl, complaining that it’s all unfair, and life is hard. Well, let me tell you the new news: make the firm some money, or hit the bricks. Take your angst and mental trauma, and tell it to your dog. It’s a competitive world.

 

I’m now going round the room and each of you will give me your two best pitch ideas for us to make serious fees. If you don’t have them, RIGHT NOW, leave your security pass at HR as you depart the building. I’m not joking. Welcome to the NFL. 

Stanley knew that you can never really judge people until they truly have their backs to the wall. It is only there that you see their actual character and substance. Their resilience.

Monique, underneath the beige Armani-tailleur coolness, was increasingly perplexed by what was unfolding in front of her. This wasn’t the same guy she’d left on the doorstep. Was that a good or a bad thing? Was she to blame?

She made an error.

Don’t take what happened between us last night out on these people, Stanley. It’s really nothing to do with them. 

Oh My God!

She realised the horrendous gaffe as soon as it left her lips, and that’s the problem with being able to get away with directness and honesty most of the time. Your filter gets out of practice, and one day you’ll go too far.

 

The room dropped twenty degrees, in shock. 

George was rocked to his core, his stare darting quickly from her, to his boss, and back. She shook her head at him, as if in denial, seemingly already asking for a forgiveness that would now never come.

Stanley, instead, didn’t miss a beat. Neither shaken nor stirred. He was back. Back huge!

Yes, that’s exactly why we are here Monique. Thanks for talking to the kids last night by the way. The equal pay stuff very helpful. But when I heard you talking to my daughters, it really hit home to me. It’s time for a change. This generation is different, and we are still fighting yesterday’s war in marketing to them. They don’t pay for content.

 

Last night I didn’t sleep as I realised this team, and especially me, have been in cruise control for way too long. The good easy times have made us soft and lazy, and we’ve lost the hunger and the edge. The sense of menace. That video is a clear warning sign that we’re throwing away our mystique. How fucking dare they talk about my firm like that?!

 

Everyone in this ecosystem; rights holders, broadcasters, brands, agencies, sportech, apparel companies. All of them. They are all in serious trouble and now absolutely need top consulting advice. And I’m here today demanding we raise our game to deliver it. There is a need, and a big market. But they won’t pay for pap. Not £1m a project.

 

George you seem alive and eager to start? Go!

 

Two top ideas, George. Go! NOW!

These are the moments when you see the wheat from the chaff. George was still reeling from a major blow to the solar plexus, and metaphorically on his knees, but he needed to get off the canvass and react.

He stood up and straightened his shoulders.

DAZN can’t trade out of these losses. It’s just a bad business model trying to get paid subs in the age of piracy. My guess is they’ve already been out to Saudi to try and sell themselves, and I think they got a knock-back. But a sale is the only way Len now gets his money back. Betting isn’t going to save them.

 

We work up the various exit scenarios for DAZN and get either them, or one of the possible acquirers, to pay us. Could be a Warner, Apple, Amazon, ESPN, or a PE fund. This will need to involve politicians and the EU now; DAZN holds important populist football rights across Europe. If you want a hook, something like… could DAZN form the basis of a new EBU delivered by, say, a Macron? “

Given that George still had half his brain playing tricks on him, offering painful imagery of Stanley and Monique “together”, it was a very credible effort.

His boss wasn’t surprised, and had gone to George first because he knew the others would need more time to think. He was well aware that George had the chops. He was the future.

If you want another idea Stan, again thinking about people likely and able to pay our fees, I’d focus on the big marketing agencies. Sam Altman says that AI will do 95% of what marketers use agencies, strategists, and creative professionals for today. 

Whether that is true or not, the WPPs of this world absolutely need insight and advice before their world is eaten away. If they don’t bite, I’d go to the big brands, who frankly are paying agency fees for banal generalist planning advice of little added-value, that they can likely do themselves with AI. Scare WPP into using us; show glory to CocaCola and Ford as to how the world looks with no intermediary margin. 

 

If you want to keep it in sport, it’s so clear that the world of sponsorship and sponsorship agencies is going to change totally. No sponsor any longer wants board and logos. They want digital content and data.

Stanley ignored George and looked at the others, and nodded at them in approval. You see?

Monique? Your two ideas, s’il te plait.

 

By the way, George, after today’s events, you’ll be thinking hard about loyalty and betrayal, you may even be feeling more tempted by the hedge fund role you’ve been interviewing for. Whatever is going through your mind now is nothing compared to the fact you’ve met them four times and you haven’t once come to me. I don’t know what is worse: the idea that you thought I wouldn’t find this out, or that you see a future away from this firm.

 

Think well son, and remember: life is more nuanced and intangible than Fantasy Football.

George all of a sudden felt like the guilty one, and Stan had his star asset back on his heels and in his box. Mission accomplished, for now.

 

Monique. GO!

At this point, she had no idea as to what Stanley was doing, whether premeditated tactics, or out-of-control emotional venting. Either way, she still knew she was the box-office and was gonna show the room exactly that.

When in doubt, just trust your quality and class. No one can ever debate that.

I see more than two things, but I like these ones.

 

Firstly, the whole French thing. The mark for us has to be Macron. The Olympics, the French football CVC debacle. PSG unravelling. We put together a plan for the Macron legacy as the saviour of French sport. I like George’s EBU idea, around DAZN. Ultimately Macron leads a plan where the EU buys DAZN, maybe strong-arming CVC to pony up more, maybe bringing in Qatar too to save their PSG investment. Ligue 1 is going down the tubes if something isn’t done. DAZN is bidding half of the £1 billion CVC expected. That is either a disaster for Macron, or he ends up the saviour. If we can’t get a gig somewhere in there, then we’d be better selling ice-creams in Riyadh. 

 

Secondly, it’s the sportech crisis. Many of these companies are going bust, and a lot are great assets. This is the special situation and roll-up opportunity of a generation, and there is loads of capital out there needing to be deployed. Should be a match, but early-stage is too small and fragmented a ticket, so we do a plan, big and ambitious enough, to take to a Sixth Street, an Ares, to hoover up the best IP and tech in sports innovation. Basically a plug-and-play vehicle, big enough they can drop a billion into, and it’s good to go. They deploy the capital they need to, we save an entire eco-system. Again, this could be sexy enough to attract those politicians who love to spend monies they’ve just printed. The “European Sportech New Deal”. Some pretentious payoff like that works with these people. 

She sat down, oozing the “je ne sais quoi” that makes her so magnetic. Flipping the fringe back dramatically, uncertain no more. She was Monique.

She reached into her bag and dug out the Tom Ford shades.

Oh, and Stanley, I’m lighting up a Gitanes now. If people don’t like the smoke, they can fuck off. You don’t pull this kind of shit on me, even blaming it on your daughters.

All totally outrageous, and yet Stanley just smiled. In his head, that sealed the deal right there. Right then.

 

God she was some piece of work, he thought.

 

🎶 And she’ll tease you, she’ll unease you
All the better just to please you
She’s precocious, and she knows just what it
Takes to make a pro blush
She got Greta Garbo’s standoff sighs, she’s got Bette Davis eyes 🎶

 

Daniel and Audrey, from FMCG and Telecoms respectively, were clearly in the wrong movie at this point. It was an octane level well above their abilities and pay-grade, so they simply were in survival mode. Their pod members sensed it too.

Fear.

Daniel got through the ordeal, making a decent fist of suggesting a pitch to big brands as to how they could dominate sport by a return to the days of the P&G soap opera model. He threw in some nice ideas around Apple Vision Plus and brand-led virtual worlds.

Nice try, Danny. You know I can hear all that same stuff on the shit podcasts from people who’ve been made redundant. It’s good but not great and I’m not paying you a McKinsey fee for that if I’m a client.

 

You have until tomorrow morning to leave a report in my inbox with three great ideas. Or just go. 

Daniel felt his beard more itchy than normal, in the sudden realisation that he’d been over-promoted and over-praised all his life. It all hit him like prime Tyson.

Audrey just about got out alive, talking crisply about the fresh news re Telecom Italia crashing on the markets, and how that would affect sports rights and distribution all across Europe, as all of these companies now needed a plan on their business model and capital structure, around debt.

 

Nice, Audrey! Work it up and give me the one page pitch you’d do, for tomorrow.”

 

Stanley turned to the juniors and interns. 

You sure you wanna work here? You sure you are man (or woman) enough to work here? You think this is abuse, mental bullying? This is nothing to what is out there now. From clients. Endless meetings of platitudes that go nowhere. No fees. People more concerned about what pronouns you use than getting to breakeven cash-positive”

Samir chimed up…

Don’t I get a shot at an idea, sir? 

Stanley looked at George, who nodded with the silent “he’s a player” response.

What you got, young man?

Stanley was now standing behind the lad from Beirut, on a scholarship at King’s. Hands on the boy’s shoulders. Applying maximum intensity.

Well, Stanley… if I can call you Stanley… everyone talks about gambling. The growing market. Penn, Barstool, ESPN. Few are looking at the betting affiliate market. One of the most interesting spaces for consulting work is to look at what’s happening in the affiliate space, linked to how Google is changing its SEO algorithms to combat AI content. Google still dominates web referral. 63%. 

 

Companies like Better Collective, Catena and XL Media are super interesting, aggressively buying up all potential competitors. The UK betting market is saturated, but Africa and South America are wide open for affiliate thinking. And the US is still in play.

 

Sport hasn’t ever got its relationship with betting correct. I think we can get some decent traction for fees by just asking if the answer is in understanding much better the affiliate market and Google’s current approach to penalising AI content.

 

Stanley steps back and looks right at Daniel.

He’s your intern Danny, and costs me petty cash. You are on how much? But young Samir here has peaked my curiosity.

 

YOU BORED THE FUCKING PANTS OFF ME!

 

I have no idea if Sammy here is correct, but I’m now incentivised to know. I’ll actually pay to know. And that’s what earning fees in consultancy is all about. Creating an itch of doubt or curiosity and convincing the client you can help them remove it. It’s insight selling around fear or glory.

 

You give me P&G soap operas? Naw, it’s over mate. Pick up your things now and leave. You’re not up to a bear market.

 

Samir, as long as I’m here, you have a place when you graduate, if you get a First. 

 

Audrey, I like you. You have a solid brain. The Telecom Italian stuff is today’s news and is fresh insight. You are on it, but your problem is your image. “Audrey” isn’t the name for a top consultant. It’s too homely. Too familiar. It doesn’t smell of uniqueness. I feel no edge to justify a £1m fee. Do you have a middle name?

Audrey was aghast, but knew he was right. She always suffered that she did have the nuts in meetings, but never felt she held the room.

 

Stanley was now in full flow.

I’m sorry, but the game has changed folks.

 

This firm, this brand is at risk. There are people out there now actively questioning if we are a bluff. Yesterday’s warmed-up sex. 

 

This is fucking existential.

Life or death; and if we want this level of fees for ideas and insight, we need to look the part in what we say, but also how we present ourselves. How we command respect. 

 

Audrey, ask Monique for some clothes, hair and make-up advice. Otherwise you’ll be going back-office, and not client-facing. Your choice.

Daniel had gathered his papers and was leaving the room. Stanley never even looked up.

It’s for the best Danny, trust me. You’re a fair weather golfer and the storm’s getting up. I’ll do you a good reference.

 

Monique dragged on her cigarette.

She looked in disdain at his scuffed Hush Puppies as he left.

George felt bad. Danny wasn’t a bad sort, but he just didn’t have the killer instinct and presence of a top fee-earning consultant or investment banker.

Alright, back to work! Remember, we eat what we kill from now on. George, hang back a minute.

Stanley poured them both a dram he took from the special drawer in the boardroom. The one with the £1000 whiskies and the fancy crystal glasses.

Look, something happened last night and you deserve to know. She and I had a moment, nothing more, kissing goodnight. 

 

Then, about 4am, it became clear. This, all of this just now.

 

I’ve been in drifting for too long. Flat. Coasting towards the golden pension. She changed something. First I felt guilty, especially to you, but no longer.

 

You’ve been around her for what, four years? She’s thrown some messages at you; some flirts. You’ve done the square root of fuck all about that. You’re firmly now in the friendzone. That’s not my fault, that’s on you. A train like her doesn’t pass every day. You blew it. You’re a Northern lad, so suck it up. Tough!

 

That’s how things stand George. You wanna have a swing at me? Take a free pop. I owe you that. 

 

Look, you showed all your talent in here just now, pure and rare. Fucking magnificent. I want you with me to have a real go to dominate this space now. You and me. And guys like Lebanese Sammy back there. Killers. All the other passengers will be culled. I will bayonet the wounded personally. I’m going to spend the next five years to take them all on, those fucking accountancy firms now calling themselves strategic consultants. We are McKinsey. It’s us, Bain and BCG. We are the elite, and we need to start acting exactly like that. We’ve gotten soft. 

You with me?

 

George poured himself another whisky and knocked it straight back.

Fuck yeah!

Stanley smiled.

Forget Monique, go find someone like my Catherine. Those are the big wins.

George nodded. In time, he would look back on that morning as the day he finally grew up. Back in his office, he called the hedge fund and told them no go.

…

Stanley opened the door to her office. Twirled the blinds shut, and locked the door.

 

She stood up and met him at the desk.

He casually started unbuttoning her chemise.

We English all think too much?

 

Well, I THINK we stop wasting time, young lady.

He put one hand in her hair, tugged gently, and the other around her exposed waist, moving it upwards, and holding it there.

Monique, I really want to thank you for what you’ve done. I’ve felt an energy today I thought was long gone.

 

But I will fire you later this evening. You can’t stay here after what’s going to happen here right now. Tomorrow you will set up your own consultancy with a cornerstone agreement to work for us, with a minimum guarantee. You can consult for other clients, but none of my competitors.

 

And I’d like to see a lot of you from now on, and who knows, si ce sont des roses, elles fleuriront.

She gasped, pulled him back onto her desk, files and papers despatched to the floor in one sweep, and…

Fade to black.

Scene.

 

 

* Links to the previous episodes

 

1 – The One when the FA met McKinsey.

 

2 – The Continuing Adventures of Stanley, Monique and George.

 

3 – Reason and Accountability is Overrated in Sport.