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Stame Reilly on
04 19th, 2010 |
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Hi there, Stame here, once gain stepping forward to correct something the psychophantic Sherrington has said. How can anyone regard McKinsey as “the world’s best management consultancy”? In the early ‘80’s when I was forging a career in the corporate world (one that admittedly fizzled out shortly after but only because I never acquired a taste for licking arses) I was approached by McKinsey and asked to interview with them. Yes, they approached me, how cool was that? I had heard that they worked you pretty hard which was a worry but they also had the reputation for paying their people shed loads of dosh for a few years before releasing them back into a big client at a celestially senior level. I certainly fancied the extra cash but most especially I really liked the idea of avoiding ‘middle management’ and getting a fast track to the top.
So I plodded up to their offices in Mayfair where I was met by some Brigadier Ponseby-Smythe (or some such name), their head of recruitment. He looked like he’d come out of central casting for a British war movie – an upper lip so stiff you could lever a tyre off with it. He clearly had not got the memo that I’d been talent spotted and was distinctly frosty when I began by enquiring how much exactly they paid and would I be expected to work late? “We’ll get to that later” he said, “first you have to get through 7 rounds of interviews including IQ tests”.
Seven!!!!!! IQ tests!!!! I did not like the sound of this one bit. Sure enough we began with a 90 minute written test, which contained some very beastly maths and no offer of a calculator (I did ask). I was then marched off to some junior partner who proceeded to ask me how I would go about determining the efficiency of some nameless call centre. I hadn’t a clue – he had not exactly given me much information to go on and he seemed to smile as I attempted to ask a few apparently irrelevant questions like “Does this nameless company have some report by a management consultant I could read?” “That is the point of the exercise” he said, “What information would you want to see in the report, how would you go about finding it, how would you test the validity and draw conclusions?” I suggested a few focus groups – I was a marketing boy after all – but this did not go down well and this first interview ended rather quickly.
Thankfully my next interview was with a senior partner and one who many years ago, by coincidence, had worked where I worked, before being talent spotted by McKinsey, as of course I too had been. This augured well. He knew my boss – it was he who had put put my name forward so it turned out.
“Howard tells me you are one of his brightest managers” the Senior Partner said – it came across more as a challenge than an observation. Now my guard was up. I knew perfectly well that Howard thought I was utterly useless. He had hinted as much when he’d given me my last appraisal. “Stame, you are utterly bloody useless” he had said enigmatically. I also knew that Howard knew that I thought he was utterly useless. I’d never actually told him but he’d recognized my handwriting on the loo wall at the office.
So this was the game – Howard was trying to get rid of me by recommending me to his old mate at McKinsey. So what – there was still the chance of me getting a big fat salary and catching the career escalator all the way to the top floor if I joined McKinsey. I decided to ask the Senior Partner what I’d asked the Brigadier – how much exactly would they pay me, how many hours per week was normal, could I travel first class since the client was paying? Well I liked the sound of the salary and the perks but the workload sucked. 70- 80 hours a week? (I had to do a quick mental sum to check there were actually 80 hours in a week). Moreover, it turned out they were sticklers for details. Every number on a chart had to be spot on, no spelling mistakes, perfect graphics. Detail was never my strong point and my maths was pretty poor even with a calculator. I told him I was more of an ideas man – the kind of guy who could come up with a brilliant strategic insight on pure instinct alone. He smiled (rather patronisingly I felt) and asked for some examples. None immediately sprang to mind but I told him my last on-pack coupon promotion I ran had got very high redemption and it had been my idea not to put a closing date on it (it had come in so far over budget in fact that my boss Howard made me personally apologise to the Finance Director but I didn’t mention that).
After finshing with the Senior Partner I was taken back to the Brigadier. It was by now early evening (well past 5.00 pm anyway) and I was rather hoping to get away to meet some mates at a local west end pub for a few sherberts. So I was pleased when he told me he was not going to take long.
“Mr Reilly, we have concluded that management consultancy may not be the best career choice for you but we thank you for your interest in the firm”. And that was it – I’d been rejected after only the second of the seven interviews (and the IQ test). I had mixed feelings – the way you might feel if you saw a busload of Welshman driving over a cliff and then spot an empty seat. I was relieved because by now I was quite clear I did not fancy McKinsey one little bit but I was also annoyed that it was they who had turned me down and not the other way around.
So how can anyone say McKinsey are the best in the world if they passed over the chance to employ Stame?
Up yours and theirs
A London bond trader parks his brand new Porsche in front of the office to show it off to his colleagues. As he’s getting out of the car, a lorry comes speeding along too close to the kerb and takes off the door before zooming away.
A while back I started using McKinsey’s Top 10 articles as a way seeing what is on the