By Hiran de Silva
So far…
…our imaginary motorway has been at a standstill.
You’re sitting in your family car.
Three helicopter salesmen are surrounding the vehicle.
Each confidently explains why helicopters are the only practical solution to traffic.
One points to a famous white paper.
Another quotes a LinkedIn post.
A third insists there are “far better tools.”
Their arguments sound convincing.
Until…
…someone quietly presses the hidden switch.
The wheels retract.
The wings emerge.
The car lifts gently above the traffic…
…and flies away.
This is that moment.
Because eventually every theory has to face something rather awkward.
Evidence.
The demonstration isn’t complicated.
It’s simply a collaborative budgeting process.
Four hundred operating units.
Ninety cities.
Fifty countries.
Four world regions.
Everyone working together.
Managers discussing numbers.
Negotiating.
Adjusting forecasts.
Questioning assumptions.
Exactly the sort of process that the spreadsheet replacement industry repeatedly tells us cannot sensibly happen in Excel.
The traffic jam.
Today’s meeting happens to involve two shops in Chennai.
One manager increases a budget to £12,000.
He clicks Put.
The second manager increases his own figure to £6,000.
He clicks Put.
Done.
The regional manager for India now wants to know…
“What effect has that had on India’s budget?”
He selects India.
Clicks Get.
The revised consolidated budget appears.
Immediately.
The regional manager for Asia asks exactly the same question.
He selects Asia.
Clicks Get.
Again…
…the revised consolidated budget appears.
Immediately.
No waiting.
No exports.
No overnight batch process.
No consolidation exercise.
Just…
Get.
At precisely this point…
…our third helicopter salesman clears his throat.
This is the moment when we’re apparently supposed to abandon Excel…
…leave the meeting…
…export everything into another planning system…
…perform a consolidation somewhere else…
…then return later.
Perhaps tomorrow.
Perhaps next week.
Except…
…the consolidation is already sitting on the screen.
Naturally…
…the managers don’t believe it.
“We’ve only just changed those numbers.”
“Surely they can’t already be consolidated?”
After all…
they’ve spent years reading white papers explaining that Excel consolidation is painfully slow.
They’ve attended demonstrations.
They’ve heard conference presentations.
They’ve absorbed the narrative.
So the controller says…
“No problem.”
“Let’s prove it.”
“Click that total.”
A breakdown appears.
India.
Pakistan.
Bangladesh.
Sri Lanka.
China.
Japan.
The numbers add up perfectly.
Still unconvinced?
“Click India.”
Now the report breaks down into cities.
“Click Chennai.”
Now it breaks down into individual shops.
There they are.
Shop 401.
Shop 402.
The very two budgets that were changed only moments earlier.
One now shows £12,000.
The other £6,000.
Exactly as agreed during the meeting.
Silence.
Then…
“…Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”
Lieutenant Columbo would have approved.
Everyone around the meeting now agrees on three things.
The consolidation is correct.
The consolidation is current.
The consolidation happened immediately.
Which leaves one rather awkward question.
At exactly what point…
…was Justin Merritt expecting everyone to stop this meeting…
…leave Excel…
…visit another planning system…
…perform another consolidation…
…and then return?
Would that detour…
…really be quicker…
…than immediate?
If not…
what exactly was meant by “better tools”?
The same question quietly waits for Colin Wall’s famous assertion that you cannot do bottom-up budgeting with spreadsheets.
Because…
…we’ve just watched bottom-up budgeting happen.
Live.
Across multiple organisational levels.
With managers collaborating.
With immediate roll-up.
Without anyone performing a separate consolidation.
The evidence has already answered the claim.
Then there’s the famous “Nine Circles of Excel Hell.”
One of its circles warns us about consolidation.
Fair enough.
Except…
…what we’ve just witnessed doesn’t resemble that description at all.
Again…
the demonstration quietly asks a simple question.
If Excel can already do this…
…what exactly is the helicopter solving?
And that’s when our sketch reaches its punchline.
The three helicopter salesmen are still standing beside the motorway.
Still enthusiastically selling helicopters.
Except…
…the customer has disappeared.
The flying car has already left.
Even worse…
…the surrounding motorists have seen everything.
They’ve watched an ordinary family car transform into a self-driving flying vehicle.
They’re no longer looking at the helicopters.
They’re searching their own dashboards.
“Where’s that switch?”
One by one…
…more cars begin to rise above the traffic.
Another.
Then another.
Soon…
the motorway is empty.
The traffic jam has vanished.
The helicopter salesmen proudly return to head office.
“We’ve eliminated the congestion!”
“Excellent,” replies the sales manager.
“So…
…how many helicopters did you sell?”
None.
Not one.
Instead…
…they accidentally demonstrated that nobody needed a helicopter in the first place.
That’s the real purpose of this demonstration.
It isn’t really about budgeting.
It isn’t really about consolidation.
It’s about something much bigger.
When you’ve been told for years that the only escape from the traffic jam is to buy a helicopter…
…the most disruptive thing you can possibly discover…
…is that your own car has been able to fly all along.
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