It’s that time of year again: time for the RFPs.
Every time June rolls around it seems as though the website project that’s been shelved comes around again for its due and to sum up the hopes and dreams of said project, we receive an RFP.
What perfect way to begin a relationship – with lots and lots of paperwork.
Let me share with you the sad truths about RFPs and why we reject 90% of the ones we get: a good vendor can tell a bad RFP within about three pages. You may think, “But we worked so hard on it, why won’t you respond?” or conversely, “If you don’t want our money, fine!”
These arguments don’t really work on me: as we’re in the enviable position to have many really awesome clients and no bad clients, I am determined to keep it that way and see no reason to change.
There are three kinds of really bad RFPs:
1. The Kitchen Sink RFP whereby a hospital gets together and makes an unprioritized wish list of “stuff” they wish they had and seeks a “ballpark” quote.
The underlying theory: if we put it all down, we can see what we can get in under budget.
How to recognize one: you make a bulleted or numbered list of 20+ items.
The results: all you’ll get back are lies, lies, and more lies. Why? Well, you’re lying in the first place. Building a site with a real CMS is far more important than including a gift shop for your volunteers. And becuase you can’t decide on that, communicate it effectively, and disappoint people at the beginning of the process, you’re counting on a vendor to come in and take the heat. Does that sound like a project you’d want?
2. The Consultant RFP whereby a hospital hires a consultant to help them build the point-by-point items that are most important to them and susses out functionality before cost.
The underlying theory: a consultant will help us stay focused, provide us an industry-standard RFP template, and manage the vendor responses so we don’t have to.
How to recognize one: your pocketbook feels lighter after every conversation.
The results: you’ll get back responses which conform to the consultant’s own opinions of how things should be done and then, once you pick a vendor, the consultant leaves. It’s an arranged marriage of sorts. Except that instead of spending quality time with the vendor, you spend all that time with a consultant… who then leaves. The problem for a vendor in this relationship is that we’re never sure if the consultant is speaking for themselves or for the client. And, we note, many consultants mysteriously end up recommending the same vendors.
3. The Checkbox RFP whereby all features and requirements for the project are reduced to Yes/No questions and then priority ranked, ordered, sorted, and priced.
The underlying theory: Excel can make our decisions for us.
How to recognize one: it’s unreadable to human beings and is often over 1″ thick when printed.
The results: you will get back shockingly few respondents and even though you went through all the trouble, you will end up with canned results nonetheless. Then your Excel genius will be ticked off and you’ll pick the vendor who got within a mile of filling out the paperwork properly, which often is the one who is most desperate for your business… because they had the time to put into filling out this immense paperwork. Mmmm — a recipe for success!
Look, there’s about three companies in the United States who are qualified to do this work at all and another four or five who have some overlapping experience in the market. The main reason you don’t need an RFP is that the world of folks willing to provide services to healthcare is incredibly small. (And the world of talented folks is even smaller…)
You could spend a single day hearing 1 hour pitches from everyone, cut your list to three, and then go chat up their references. Your success, in any multi-disciplinary web projects, is not going to rest on features but on selecting a partner you can trust will deliver.
Bad RFPs scare away good vendors and appeal only to those who are desperate for cash. The point of an RFP is to de-personalize a purchasing experience but with a web project, you need a partner, not a dealer.
And please note next time you visit: the Mayo Clinic does not have cheer cards.