“Brittle” design isn’t limited to enterprise application software. You can find brittle design in cars, bridges, buildings, TVs, or even the vegetable bin. (What are those 1/2-pint boxes of $5.00 raspberries, 3/4 of which are moldy, but examples of brittle design?)

What do brittle designs have in common? The designer chose to accentuate high performance at the expense of other reasonable design parameters, like cost, reliability, usability, etc. A Ferrari goes very, very fast, and it feels good when it goes fast, and that’s a design choice. And it’s part of the design choice that the car requires a technician or two to keep it going fast for longer than an afternoon.

So why are most enterprise applications brittle? You can see this coming a mile away. It was a design choice. The enterprise applications in question were designed to be the Ferraris of their particular class of application. They were designed to do the most, have the most functionality, be the most strategic, appeal to the most advanced early adopters, be the most highly differentiated, etc.

To get Ferrari-like performance, they had to make the same design choices Ferrari did. They had to assume the application was perfectly tuned every time the key was turned, and they had to assume that the technicians were there to perform the tuning.

Enterprise applications, you see, were intended to run on the best, the highest-end machines (for their class). They were intended to be set up by experts. They were intended to be maintained by people who had the resources to do what was necessary. They were intended to satisfy the demands of good early-adopter customers who put a lot of pressure on them, with complex pricing schemes or intricate accounting, even if later on, it made setting the thing up complex, increased the chance that there were bugs, and made later upgrades expensive.

This wasn’t bad design; it was good design, especially from the marketing point of view. The applications that put the most pressure on every other design parameter got the highest ratings, attracted the earliest early adopters, recruited the most capable (and highest-cost) implementers, etc., etc. So they won in the marketplace and beat out other applications in their class that made different design choices.

I lived through this when I worked at QAD. At QAD, the founder (Pam Lopker) made different design choices. She built a simple app, one that was pretty easy to understand and pretty easy to set up and did the basics. And for about two years, shortly after I got there, she had the leading application in the marketplace. And then SAP and JDE and PeopleSoft came in and cleaned our clock with applications that promised to do more.

Now, none of the people who actually bought SAP instead of QAD back then or chose (later) to try to replace QAD with SAP did this because they really wanted high performance, per se. They wanted “value” and “flexibility” and “return on investment” and “marketable skills.” They literally didn’t realize that the value and flexibility came at a cost, that the cost was that the application was brittle and that therefore, the value or flexibility or whatever was only achievable if you did everything right.

If they had realized this, would they have made different choices?

I don’t know. I remember a company that made kilns in Pittsburgh that had been using QAD for many years. The company had been taken over by a European company that used SAP, and the CIO had been sent over from Germany to replace the QAD system with the one that was (admittedly) more powerful. He called me in (years after I had worked at QAD) to help him justify the project.

I looked at it pretty carefully, and I shook my head. Admittedly, the QAD product didn’t do what he wanted. But I didn’t like the fit with SAP. I was worried that the product designed for German kiln production just wasn’t going to work. I didn’t want to be right, and I was disappointed to find out that two years later, despite very disciplined and careful efforts, he was back in Germany and QAD was still running the company.

I’m glossing over a lot, of course. There are secondary effects. Very often, the first user of an application dominates its development, so the app will be tuned to the users strengths and weaknesses. It will turn out to be brittle for other users because they don’t have the same strengths. Stuff that was easy for the first user then turns out to be hard for others.

Two final points need to be made. First, when a brittle application works, it’s GREAT. It can make a huge difference to the user. Brian Sommer frequently points out that the first users of an application adopt it for the strategic benefit, but later users don’t. He thinks it’s because the benefit gets commoditized. But I think it’s at least partially because the first users are often the best equipped to get the strategic benefit, whereas later users are not. I think you see something of the same issue, too, in many of Vinnie Mirchandani’s comments about the value that vendors deliver (or don’t deliver).

Second, as to the cause of failure. Michael Krigsman often correctly says that projects are a three-legged stool and that the vendors are often blamed for errors that could just as easily be blamed on the customers. Dennis Moore often voices similar thoughts. With brittle systems, of course, they’re quite right; the failure point can come anywhere. But when they say this, I think they may be overlooking how much the underlying design has contributed.

It may be the technician’s fault that he dropped the beaker of nitrogycerin. But whose brilliant idea was it to move nitroglycerin around in a beaker?

Brittle Applications

August 31, 2009

In a previous post, I said that MRP was a “brittle” application, and a commenter questioned me. What is a “brittle” application? Is this a technical term? What makes MRP brittle? All good questions.

A brittle application is one that doesn’t work at all unless a lot of disparate conditions are met. MRP, for instance, doesn’t work unless all the data is right, people know how to use the program, the demand for the products is stable, purchasing is also committed to minimizing inventory levels, etc., etc.

The notion applies to a lot of other programs besides MRP, though I’ve rarely heard the term used. But notice that it brittleness isn’t so much a feature of the program as it is the purpose to which the program is put.

Let’s take a simple example: a word processing program. For normal purposes, a word processing program in this day and age is not brittle. A rank novice can use it to type and print. But even today, if you want to use, say Microsoft Word, to put out a 16-page brochure, complete with illustrations, well, good luck, is all I can say. You try to get an illustration and have it float and change the size and put in a table, and–well, just try it, it’s a nightmare. So, to put a 16-page brochure together, Microsoft Word is brittle, but to print out a letter, it’s not.

The point about the MRP program that QAD wrote, which follows the APICS standard religiously, is that it’s brittle relative to the purposes for which it was intended. Pam and Karl and Evan (the founders of QAD) really believed that QAD’s could do supply chain management for manufacturing facilities very effectively. My point was that the program is too brittle. To get things right, you have to get all the data right and keep it right, etc., etc. And if you don’t, what you have is an overwrought and overcomplicated Kanban system, without Kanban’s virtues.

Are there other enterprise application systems that are brittle? Lots and lots of them, I think. Almost all the old, Siebel-style CRM systems were simply too brittle; they depended too much on the good-will of the salespeople, the accuracy of the sales model embedded in the system, the reliability of the sales cycle, etc., etc. You wouldn’t think that financial systems are brittle–after all, they have to work–but they often had components that were overly brittle: cash management systems, for instance, and fixed asset systems and budgeting systems.

What do most companies do when they have an overly brittle system? They use the system for lesser purposes. And they feel REALLY bad about it. So, the Microsoft Word user makes a brochure that is far less fancy, but more manageable, and the QAD MRP user uses the product for tracking inventory. And both of them keep on saying, “Well, one of these days, I’ll get around to really making this product sing.”

They shouldn’t. Brittle applications are brittle for a reason. A lot of the time, it’s because they’re really a special-purpose product, but yours is not that purpose. Some of the time, they’re brittle because they’re badly designed. Some of the time, the model they’re using (MRP is a good example) just doesn’t fit the situation you’re in. In any of the cases, the fact is that they really can sing for the right user, but that doesn’t mean it’s your fault if they don’t sing for you.

What do you do if you have a brittle app that isn’t singing? Give up on it. It won’t work for you. Get another app, one that works. Or change the process. Or just accept the fact that it will never work the way you thought it would.

In any case, good luck.

I used to work at QAD, a small manufacturing software vendor. I subscribe to a QAD chat group, and occasionally people ask questions like the one in the title.

It sounds as if the person asking is peddling something–who knows–but it’s an interesting question nonetheless. What kinds of knowledge are necessary (key) for an ERP implementation? If you run a manufacturing company, is APICS (that is, supply chain) knowledge particularly important?

Certainly, QAD used to think so. When I was an employee, you got a bonus for becoming APICS certified. (APICS is the American Production and Inventory Control Society; to get certified, you had to learn how MRP worked and how inventory should be managed.) And certainly, when the product was designed, the focus was on matching supply and demand. The product was built originally for Karl Lopker’s sandal manufacturing business, and the idea was always to have simple, usable product that managed inventory well.

So you would think that the answer, at least for QAD users, is, “Of course APICS knowledge is key. Duh.” But I don’t think so.

You see, while I was at QAD and then for some years afterward, I looked at a fair number of installations. And what I saw was disheartening, at least if you believed in good supply chain practices. The systems weren’t really using good supply chain practices, at least as APICS defined them.

Let me give you an example, which APICS-trained people will understand immediately. One of the ideas of these systems is to reduce the amount of inventory you have on hand at any one time. To do this inside the system, there are two parameters that you have to set, lead time (which is the amount of time it takes for an order to be fulfilled) and safety stock (the amount you want to have on hand at all times). The longer the lead time or the higher the amount of the safety stock, the greater your inventory expense.

So what would you say if discovered that in not one or even two installations, but many, the safety stock and lead time numbers for most of the inventory were set once, en masse, and then never set again? Well, I’ll tell you what to think. These figures, which are key to making the system work, are not being used.

Now this was not just true of QAD Software; it was equally true wherever I went, no matter what software was installed.

So doesn’t this say that supply chain knowledge is key, after all? If they had supply chain knowledge, wouldn’t they have paid more attention? At first, I thought so. But then after a while, I realized that more supply chain knowledge would have made very little difference.

You see, that’s not why they were using the software. All these companies, it turns out, didn’t really care about getting supply chain stuff right. They managed the supply chain fairly sloppily–tolerated a lot of inaccuracy and suboptimal behavior–and they got along (in their minds) just fine doing that. They didn’t want to put in the kind of care and rigor that is the sine qua non for doing with these systems what they were designed to do.

What were they using the software for? Well, mostly to manage the paperwork virtually. Please don’t cringe, Pam, if you happen to be reading this. This is not a hack on you. The plain fact is that the companies needed to keep track of their commitments (orders), their inventory, and their money, and that’s what they used the system for. They needed a piece of paper that told people what inventory to move that day and where to move it to. And the system gave it to them.

To do this, though, you didn’t need much APICS knowledge or, if you didn’t believe in APICS’s recipes for inventory management, other supply chain knowledge. All you really needed was to be able to count, which most of the users could do without being APICS-certified.

So is supply chain knowledge key for an ERP implementation? Not at all. You can have perfectly happy users who have got exactly the nice simple implementation they need without much supply chain knowledge at all.

This answer, of course, raises lots of questions. What is key? Why do these companies tolerate sloppy supply chain practices? Wouldn’t they be better off if they cleaned up their act. Herewith, brief answers.

What is key? At a rudimentary level, the financials. You have to get the basics right, here, or you’ll never close your books. In a system studied recently by a grad student at Harvard Business School, 65% of the inventory records were inaccurate. Can you imagine the upset if 65% of your account balances were incorrect?

Why do they tolerate sloppy supply chain practices? I think it’s largely because more finely tuned systems are much more brittle. They take a large amount of care and feeding and their ability to take hard, rude, unexpected shocks is limited.

And wouldn’t they do much better using the systems? In many cases, no. You see, at most of the companies I’ve run into, the MRP/APICS model that QAD (and every other software vendor) provided is not actually all that accurate. To make a really significant difference, you need more sophisticated tools that are better suited to the specifics of your supply chain.

Comments welcome.

Brian Sommer just posted a very funny piece on how SaaS CEOs can prepare for an earnings call. If anything, he understates the problem.

We have learned over the years how to respond to software company earnings calls. We look at license revenues; we look at revenues; we look at margin; and we decide whether the company is doing what it “should” do at its level of maturity.

What few people realize is that the rules governing SaaS vendors are different, so comparing SaaS vendors and perpetual license vendors is like comparing–oh, let’s try to avoid a cliche–elephants and rabbits.

This gives these guys so much opportunity to obfuscate that frankly, they don’t even need to practice.

To understand how this works, you need to understand the differences between the rules. I’ll stick with the basics. The key difference is that when a perpetual license vendor sells something on the last day of the month, they report the total amount of the contract as revenue; when a SaaS vendor sells the same software, they don’t.

With the perpetual license vendor, the idea of the accounting powers that be is that selling a software license is like selling a piece of packaged software over the counter. You sign the contract; they invoice; ka-ching. With the SaaS vendor, the idea is that they’re not selling an over-the-counter product, they’re selling a promise to deliver a service. And, since there’s always a risk that they won’t deliver, they can’t recognize revenue until they actually do that delivery.

Let’s see how this works in an example. What we’re trying to do is evaluate how sales are going. With a perpetual license vendor, at the end of the quarter, we can look at their reports and be able to tell, basically, what they sold, and how sales are going. If SAP sells a $1 million contract on June 30 (and ship and invoice), they report $1 million in license revenue, and we know that’s what the sales force did.

Now imagine that a SaaS vendor is working equally effectively. At the end of a quarter, they sign a $1 million contract that is effectively equivalent in the customer’s eyes. (Who knows, maybe SAP and Salesforce were competing and Salesforce won.) If we look at their revenues, we’ll have no idea that this is the case. Almost none of that $1 million will appear as revenue, because they are only allowed to report revenue for the days of SaaS that were actually delivered. For that $1 million contract signed on the last day of the quarter, SAP will report $1 million in license revenue, but Salesforce will only report $1,000, assuming they turned the product on that day and so delivered one day of a 1,000-day (3-year) contract.

This makes Salesforce look bad. But later on, things reverse. Imagine there’s a quarter when both SAP and Salesforce reps sell bupkes in a quarter. That quarter SAP reports $0 license revenue, but Salesforce reports the $90,000 that it earned from the 90 days of delivery on that old contract.

Two companies. Identical performance. Completely different-looking results. Now, we’re not completely trapped. We can get some idea of what’s going on, by looking at what are called the “bookings” numbers. (The booking is the amount of money invoiced during the quarter for the contracts that are signed.) Most financial analysts just use a quick and dirty rule of thumb for comparison purposes; bookings for SaaS companies are roughly equivalent to sales revenues for perpetual license companies.

if SaaS companies booked revenues the same way that perpetual license companies bill for revenues, this would be fine. But in fact, SaaS companies don’t necessarily book all the revenue from contracts like that $1 million contract that I’m using as an example. Very often, they don’t invoice for the product until it actually starts being used. So on that last day of the month, it’s reasonably likely that the bookings will be, say, $299,000 and the revenues $1,000 for that contract. But the rest of that $1 million won’t appear anywhere. It will be booked in the fullness of time, but by that time, we won’t really care.

So how do you compare the elephants and the rabbits? You don’t. To compare the two, you would have to know the value of the contracts that the SaaS companies signed And they have no responsibility whatsoever to tell you what that value is. In fact, they can say anything they want to about that imaginary $1 million contract; they can announce it, hide it, whatever. If this quarter, they want you to believe that they’re selling as much as SAP is, well, they can release figures that make it seem that way. And if this quarter, they want you to believe something else, well, OK. All perfectly legal. In our example, Salesforce and SAP are “actually” doing equally well. But there is no way of knowing this.

Oh, it gets worse. It turns out that the accounting standards that govern SaaS companies make margins worse than they “actually” are. So even if you did get data that let you compare sales accurately, the accounting standards would automatically make the SaaS company look less profitable than the on-premise company.

Awful, right? Not even close. You see, very soon, it’s going to get even worse. The accounting standards are changing. But hey, that’s material for another blog.

This is one of a series of posts on the high cost of buying enterprise applications and the high cost of selling the products. This high cost, I’ve been arguing, is just plain bad for both sides and almost certainly unsustainable. So the question for the analyst is, “What can be done about it?”

In the background, I’ve had a lot of discussion with industry pundits and the Twitterati: Vinnie Mirchandani, of course, and Jason Busch and @dahowlett and Brian Sommer and Dennis Moore and many others who don’t regularly comment over the airwaves. What accounts for the high cost, I’ve been asking? Two answers seem to emerge.

1. Too many cooks.

2. Too little trust.

If you’ve ever been involved in buying applications, you’ve seen the first one happen over and over again. Too many people get involved with the decision, each with their own agendas, each more or less connected to one of the contenders, and getting all these parties to agree requires too much head-banging. It’s Congress trying to pass health care, writ small, and it’s just as pathetic.

The lack of trust. Well, I get why people don’t trust, and I get why they erect structures that are supposed to control the vendor. But in my experience, it’s always been a losing game. Buyers are nowhere near as devious, oops, I mean sophisticated, as sellers–how could they be, the sellers do it for a living? So if you go into a deal, it’s natural to feel skittish, but giving in to the feeling doesn’t really protect you and does slow you down.

So what’s to be done? In the long run, you can’t do much about either problem without cooperation from the other side. If you’re going to have lots of cooks, the cost of sales for the vendor is just plain going to be astronomical, and the cost of buying will rise accordingly. If the vendor behaves in what has become the normal fashion, alas, defensive (and expensive) buying will be only too appropriate.

Granting that, you have to start somewhere, and here are some suggestions for the buyer, suggestions that should save money. All of these will really help, even though the second sounds completely ridiculous.

1. Limit the scope of what you’re buying as much as possible. Look only at what you clearly need; prefer things that you’ll use immediately; go for immediate results; and don’t buy anything else. You can always buy the rest later. (This reduces the number of cooks.)

2. Use a tape recorder and a camcorder. Keep track of what the vendor says, in full, precisely. Look the transcripts over. If you have questions or don’t understand, follow up. In the long run, it saves a lot of time. (This can help you to get more trust–kind of trust, but verify.)

3. Prototype, prototype, prototype. Get a small team to set it up and try it out, rather than assembling a large team to review demos that were set up by the vendor. If you have to pay the vendor to help you with the prototype, do it. You’ll save in the long run. (This, too, reduces the number of cooks.)

Enough from me. Suggestions from the readership are welcome.

It stands to reason, doesn’t it. The more thorough and rational the buying process for enterprise applications, the better the outcome. For sure. Right?

Well, the other day, Dennis Moore, aka @dbmoore, a well-known figure in the industry, posted a query on Twitter asking for data that would show this is true. The more thorough the buying process, the more effective the implementation has to be true, doesn’t it. But no, the guy wants data. “Not anecdotes,” he said later, “but data.”

He isn’t going to get any. There are three reasons for this. First, there isn’t any reliable data of any kind on whether implementations were successful, at least none that I’ve seen in a career of nearly two decades. Second, most effort expended on pre-purchase analysis of software is misdirected, adding little to the quality or accuracy of the decision. And third, if you work backwards from failed implementations and identify the causes of the failures, it is very rare that the cause is the kind of thing that could have or should have been caught by a more thorough analysis.

The fact that there is little reliable data on whether an enterprise application product works is, of course, a scandal, but the fact remains and will continue to remain just so long as enterprise application companies want everybody to believe that the odds of success ar high and customers are embarrassed to admit failure.

I have been involved in at least two attempts by large, reputable companies to get a good analysis of what value, if any, has been gained after an enterprise app was implemented. The first interviewed only project managers and determined that the project managers found many, many soft benefits from the implementation. The second, a far larger effort, was eventually abandoned.

But let’s say that we had some rudimentary measure, like number of seats being actively used versus seats planned to be used two years after the initial projected go-live date. Would it show that thorough investigation really helps?

I don’t think so, and here’s why. The question of which software application to buy and/or whether one should buy one at all is usually a very simple question, one with a relatively clear right answer, at least to an objective observer. But it is rarely, if ever, treated as a simple question. People wrongly worry about a lot of irrelevant things; they are (usually) distracted by the salespeople, who naturally want the purchasing decision to be based on criteria most favorable to them, and because there’s a lot of risk (A LOT), people tend to create lengthy, rigorous, formal processes for getting to a decision, which do very, very little to improve the accuracy of the final decision.

Honestly, I can usually tell in an hour’s phone conversation what a company ought to do, and I often check back later — sorry Dennis, more anecdotal evidence — and I’d say I’m right at least 2/3 of the time, maybe more. And because of the way my business model works, I don’t even charge for these conversations.

What do you need to look at? Well, it’s a complex question, don’t get me wrong. But because the number of providers is limited, the capabilities are limited, and the likelihood of failure pretty high, there are usually only a few things that actually matter. And when there are only a few things, it shouldn’t take you that much time to figure them out.

Give a call, any time, if you want to test this out.

Those of us who have been in the business for a while feel it’s in the doldrums: there’s not much innovation, and every year, the apps get older.

Where will innovation come from? Well, the thing about innovation is that it has to change something that we think is fundamental and immutable: it has to be on a CD-ROM, it has to be typed from a phone keypad, etc. So you can’t look for innovation in the same old stuff.

That said, here are four areas that I think are wide open, wide open, wide, wide, wide open. An enterprise application (or an enterprise application company) can get an edge if they can do one of the following things:

Reduce the cost of sales by a factor of 10.

Reduce the risk of ownership by a factor of 2.

Increase the effectiveness of the application by a factor of 5. What’s a measure of effectiveness; well, let’s say it’s the number of users who use it seamlessly and easily.

Increase the speed of the application (usually by using a special-purpose database) by a factor of 50.

At least two of these aren’t impossible, because we’ve seen them happen.

Salesforce reduced the cost of sales for SMB customers by selling an enterprise-level application that you could test for free and buy with a credit card.

Workday and Qlikview both transformed applications in their area using special-purpose databases, and Hasso wants SAP to do the same.

And at least one large company, SAP, is trying for innovation in the third. Fumbling and clumsy as their effort to improve maintenance has been, the idea is to reduce the risk of owning SAP by making maintenance practices considerably more effective.

As for reduced risk of ownership or increased effectiveness (actually, maybe you’ve seen Qlikview do this), we’re still waiting.

Ideas on who’s done this or how it can be done?

In many previous posts, I have complained, bitterly, about the sales tactics that every enterprise application vendor uses, mostly to defend aging, poorly designed products. It’s one thing to put lipstick on the pig, I’ve essentially said, but it’s outrageous to charge admission, just to see the pig.

This is, of course, what happens in most sales situations. Companies big and small buy the software through a highly-paid salesperson, part psychologist and part snake-oil salesman, who listens to you, discusses your pain with you, and then arranges a long, long process that you and your team will go through: functionality requirements and demos and business cases and who knows what all.

Let me fill you in on a little secret. It’s mostly a waste of time. And money. Not just your time and your money. But also the software company’s. You are both driving up the cost of software, simply by accepting and perpetuating a system where rigmarole is the rule of the day.

In a time of economic growth, maybe both companies could afford it. So what if you use up a lot of IT hours compiling functionality lists and sleeping through demos. (Who could stay awake in them?) The IT guys like it well enough, and they like to be asked for input. So what if the software company wastes a lot of, er, resources flying in executives or taking the team out after all their hard work to a place where attractive women perform. (Happens, believe me.)

In a time of economic frailty and, not coincidentally, a time of doubt about the value and merits of enterprise software, no one can afford it any more. Not you, who has better things to do with your resources. Not the software companies, whose sales resources are being spread thin by companies that are insisting that the salesperson do more and more for them.

Wouldn’t it be better to use some of the resources squandered on these endless sales cycles for something else a little more worthwhile? LIke getting both parties to the right solution faster?

A product manager at an up-and-coming software company was talking about his experiences at Siebel, where he cut his teeth in that job.

“At Siebel, we would never, ever, ever let a customer take a look at the software. No way. Not ever.”

At his new company, by contrast, they give out free personal copies.

Now, which would you pay more for, software that you know works, because you tried it, or software that you can’t prise out of the company’s hands unless you fork over, big time?

Not sure what the answer is? Well, what if I told you that the success rate for the second kind of software was roughly 50%. So 50% of the time, forking over is just like sending money to that friendly Nigerian guy who seems to need some help.

Still not sure? Well, what if I told you that the software company made you sign a non-disclosure agreement about the software that you had just forked over for, which said, essentially, that no matter what you find after you forked over, you can’t tell anybody about it. Wouldn’t you think that maybe, just maybe, that was eau de rat that you were sniffing?

Well, if after all of those warning signals, you went ahead and bought, don’t think I’d call you a fool. You’d only be doing exactly what everybody who ever bought from Siebel did. And nobody would ever call those people fools.

Would they?

Top 10 things to use the money for, once you stop paying maintenance.

10. Reducing the backlog at internal support. This doesn’t take much money, of course, since you’re already saving the hours your people had been on hold waiting for the software company to answer.

9. First-Aid. You know all those open, raw spots in your current installation, the ones you hoped would be fixed by the latest version, if you could ever get it installed? Take charge and fix them, ’cause now your former supplier ain’t gonna do it. You’d be surprised what rudimentary first-aid tools can do: a few user exits, a virtual machine for low-profile Java apps that the exits talk to, a little user training, a few reports. You’ll get people back to the front in no time.

8. Raises. You know life just got easier. But that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t use some of the money to reward your staff for all the effort they put out over the years dealing deal with your former supplier.

7. Shutting down the patch testing environment. Of course, once you do that, you have even more money, so…

6. Buy something you couldn’t afford. Go on, live a little. Here are some suggestions…

5. Invest in mobile. Every one of your executives wants cool stuff on their iPhone (or an iPhone if they don’t have it). Make yourself a star. Give it to them. They’ll go to their graves believing that IT support improved on the day you stopped paying maintenance.

4. Invest in the cloud. Face it. With the end of enterprise support, you don’t have an excuse not to do development that you can’t afford to do. So start by reducing the cost of development. With EC2 or Force.com or Rackspace, you can suddenly start doing it right, that is light and cheap.

3. Don’t invest in social networking. But do take the shackles off. Spend a little, tiny bit of money encouraging people to figure out what they ought to be doing with these new tools (if anything). And maybe use some of the tools to help everybody keep track of the efforts.

2. Return some of the money to the CFO. He or she has been walking around the halls looking for some spare change. Now you can reach in your pocket, pull something out, and feel good for the rest of the afternoon.

1. Hold a check-burning party. Write out 10 of those big checks made out to whoever it is, go out to the parking lot, and reduce them to their constituent elements. Hint: bring some beer.

Got your own suggestions about what to do with the money? Add some comments here.