Lest anyone think that I prefer to trash-talk about open source and free software, here's something that applies equally--if not more so--to their proprietary cousin. In marketing, there's something called an "elevator pitch," which means a description of your product or service short enough to relate to a potential client in the course of a (short) elevator ride. If the client doesn't understand what, exactly, it is that you can do for them by the time the door opens at her/his floor, the pitch fails.
In my previous job, my company signed up for a developer partnership program with Microsoft. Which basically meant that they sent us a copy of darned near every bit of software they make. Or at least it sure seemed like it. And in case that wasn't enough encouragement for us to peddle their dope to our customers, we were also sent marketing materials. Let's just say that it was awfully tempting to take up skeet-shooting as box after box of CDs piled up in my office. Or--better still--to hang the shiny silver disks by fish line from the ceiling tiles, add multi-colored and ultraviolet lights, and redecorate in a disco theme. (Which, in retrospect, could have been really cool. For about a day.)
What made the whole thing so darned ridiculous, however, was the fact that I didn't know what even half the stuff was supposed to do. BizTalk Server. Commerce Server. SharePoint Server. Looking at Microsoft's current list of "server" offerings, those three look familiar. I can probably make educated, if somewhat vague, guesses at what these might do. But others? Antigen. Expression. Azure Services Platform. There's absolutely no way of knowing what you're supposed to accomplish by using them without further information. And that species of information, let me assure you, was not included in the heaps of prettily-packaged CDs. (Sometimes, without reading the fine print, I couldn't be sure that the CD in my hand was the actual software or its talking-points.)
Even for the deep pockets of Microsoft, that's a considerable waste of money--assuming that this program is still in force. Because not supplying the "what's in it for me?" kind of information is like neglecting to build the last ten feet of a bridge: It doesn't matter how much has already been invested, because it's useless. The two sides are not connecting--i.e. no communication is taking place. Why? Because mailing a box of digital mulligan stew cannot be dignified with the term communication. Most especially in what's allegedly a "partnership."
True, I can look up each software product/suite and have a reasonable chance of concluding whether it could A.) Lower our costs and/or B.) Increase our revenues. (And, in fairness to Microsoft, they seem to have improved their ability to summarize a product without competing for the gold in the Buzzword Bingo Olympics.) But at that point, Microsoft switching from "push" to "pull," just doesn't make sense. It's like trying to reel in the fish before you've set the hook. If I can't zen the value in what's being dangled in front of me (preferably in the equivalent of an elevator ride), why wouldn't I just swim on by?
I probably bang on about this too much, yet I can still find too many examples of the understanding gap between the people who make the software and the people it's intended to serve. Software companies throw so much money at the programming side and the marketing side, but the "bridge" so often seems to be left to build itself.
Thoughts on computers, companies, and the equally puzzling humans who interact with them