Frank Mueller is a mid-level manager responsible for the IT department/circus of ABC Co. Things haven’t been going to plan for ABC Co. on the IT front and Frank feels like he might just be a clown in a show. Try as he might, nothing Frank does seems to be enough to fix all the IT issues. Finally - today - Frank is answering the summons of the CTO.

Frank paces down a faded, beige, carpeted tunnel of doom. Some might refer to it as a hallway. Today, Frank is not so certain it is a hallway, because every step he takes seems to be accompanied by the impression of white gloves pinching a black bulb connected to a horn-shaped apparatus. The very apparatus that - in Frank’s mind - seems to be honking in time with his footsteps.

Slightly confused, startled faces look up and peer at Frank as he walks past each doorway off the tunnel of doom. Frank is vaguely aware of a sub-process in the back of his mind. That process wonders if the frazzled, hazy-looking faces are startled by the honking sound, or if they simply recognise that this particular walk, down this particular tunnel of doom, at this particular time, could sound the death knell for Bozo the clown. Or, perhaps, it’s all just in his head.

As Frank lollops into the CTO’s office with the gait of a rodeo clown who's seen one too many rodeos. He half expects the walls to be on fire and the air to smell of brimstone. Instead, there sits the CTO - sans pitchfork - normal and yet still intimidating. Frank employs his only trick to lessen the intimidation: picturing the CTO with chaotic, rainbow hair, red nose, and painted white skin.

The CTO’s ivory face seems to examine Frank in a way that says, “you could fit twenty of me and my brethren in a miniature car and still have room for a pie fight”, all while maintaining what seems like a faint glimmer of predatory indifference. You know the look. Frank vaguely recalls a book about an angry clown who lived in a sewer and wonders if IT really stands for information technology.

The CTO rises to shake Frank’s hand and offer a seat. Frank struggles for a moment. He is navigating the intrusive thoughts inviting him to reach out and honk IT’s imaginary red nose. Fortunately, idioms of tiger tails and lion-poking persuade Frank to take the proffered hand instead.

“Frank, we seem to be in the proverbial elephant pen again. The part of the pen where the elephants don’t eat, sleep, or stand…”. Frank is keenly aware of the situation the business is in - their customers expecting a well-orchestrated show with cabaret tap-dancers and finely honed acrobatic acts - but all that Frank can sense is a steamy pile of elephant food at the final phase of the elephant-food-workflow. That, and the first few musical notes of Here Come the Clowns.

It wasn’t always a circus, Frank recalls. Frank’s employer (ABC Co.) sells short-term office furniture and space lease packages for businesses needing temporary lodgings. This works well for the kind of unanticipated growth experienced by some successful businesses. It also works for the kind of business that experiences large headcount shifts, either due to seasonal service offerings - like the travel industry - or simply because they pay peanuts and get monkeys.

ABC Co. was the first clown into the car, so to speak. It identified a niche market gap early on and rapidly built a prototype for an online sales and logistics system, which got them to market quickly. Like an acrobat out of a cannon, ABC Co. flew high, fast and delighted the crowds. However, competitors in similar industries took notice and started to integrate similar business models. Reflecting on this, Frank realises that this is where ABC Co. began to experience the rise of regular elephant excrement metaphors (and not in the sense of a quality, high-fibre diet).

O-Space - a close competitor, with an already well-established space leasing business - was the first to follow ABC Co. Complete with the allegorical rainbow wig and brightly coloured, striped suspender pants. However, if Frank were to compare the differences in metaphor between the two companies, he might grudgingly admit that O-Space seemed to have slightly more professional-looking suspender trousers.

The CTO’s steely gaze bore down on Frank for a moment, tickling Frank’s latent coulrophobia. “It’s not only that we’re struggling to modernise our logistical platform” said the CTO, “it’s also the amount of maintenance IT needs to perform on the existing systems, it is starting to take up more time than our new project work does. In fact, the more features we add, the slower new projects seem to progress.”

Frank feels this reality deeply. It almost seems to him that the maintenance is exponential, and ABC Co. is starting to move backwards, further into the mushy, cold, months-old Elephant’s excretia. Frank suspected the CTO could tell he knew this, and was simply setting the stage for an event resulting in some well-charred, colourful suspender pants.

As the CTO leans back, legs crossing - so delicately for one with such long shoes - the oration continues, “I know we’ve built this system on top of a prototype”, and frankly, I’m amazed that we’ve managed to get as much out of it as we have. I was dead against using the prototype as the foundation for the business, but the board disagreed and wanted to see us reach the market as soon as technically possible. I argued until I was white in the face for automated deployments and testing. They said it was a waste of resources when the product was clearly working absolutely fine.”

Frank makes the face of a mime, surprised by the sudden appearance of an invisible glass wall. Frank had heard the CTO came from a marketing and sales background. A land of rainbow suspenders and fake cream pies. Someone who thought anything they could imagine was possible. A place where all you had to do to achieve your dreams was first to sell it to the customer. Once the contract was signed, deliver the news of the imaginary product, timeline, and budget to the engineering departments, just like a pie to the face with a honk of a silly horn. Frank had no idea the CTO had actually argued for some common sense.

The CTO with steepled fingers continues. “Frank, I can see by your expression that you’re a little surprised”. Frank wonders if this is because he’s made a mistake applying his proverbial stage makeup today. “You may have heard I come from a sales and marketing background, Frank, and that people like us don’t care about the engineers. That we only care about achieving our targets and the fat cheque that comes with it. I’m aware that engineers see us as circus performers who aren’t able to distinguish between the show and the real world outside the tent. I’ve been around the carousel enough times to know that without the buy-in of the engineers, we can’t sell an honest product to the customer, Frank. Over time, I’ve come to realise that IT people are critical, not only to the success of a new product but also to that product being a long-term boon to the company and not a liability.”

Frank is experiencing a moment of shock. As if the hand he shook earlier had a hidden electric buzzer he is only now experiencing the effects of. “You’re right”, says Frank, “I assumed you were about to tell me that my team and I weren’t working hard enough and that we should just work harder(tm)”.

The CTO frowns and responds, “Understandable, but I’d like to convince you otherwise. In my previous role, I was indeed in sales and marketing. I was definitely one of those people who only cared about the net take-home, what the audience wanted. I didn’t give two honks whether the product was achievable because I assumed it always was. I invariably thought the problem was IT - lazy IT always complaining about the added work - always whinging. But Frank, someone changed my views. That person was a natural ring-leader, able to show me not just what the problems were in simple terms, but also where they stemmed from and how to fix them. I have a deeper appreciation for IT now, Frank. I also know that there are certain things we need to put in place to ensure our projects are successful. We can’t do this without a ring-leader, Frank.”

The CTO pauses and appraises Frank’s expression. Frank wishes that he really was wearing a full face of stage makeup - the red rising in his cheeks is like an ascending stage curtain, showing what lies behind to all. Frank knows something is coming, but he isn’t sure what. Frank recognises that he is supposed to say what is expected of him, and he senses the tent lights have gone down and the spot-light has found him - singled him out - on the open floor of the ring. The only problem is, he also knows he’s standing directly over the trap door.