Congratulation, you won the tender!

Winning a tender is brilliant.

Someone sends an email containing the words “successful tenderer” and suddenly everyone forgets the three weeks of swearing, missing documents, impossible deadlines and the colleague who promised their CV was “almost ready” nine days ago. It's all part of the tender writing process.

Champagne! High-fives! Victory!

You are truely magnificent!

And then comes the slightly less glamorous realisation:

Oh shite. We actually have to do everything we said we'd do.

Welcome to mobilisation.

Remember All Those Lovely Promises?

Tender responses are full of promises.

We will mobilise seamlessly.

We will provide comprehensive reporting.

We will proactively manage risk.

We will maintain open communication.

We will continuously improve.

We will have appropriately qualified personnel ready from Day One.

It all sounds fabulous when you're typing it.

Especially at 11:47 pm when the tender closes tomorrow and somebody has just emailed you another “small change.”

But after award, something magical happens.

The future tense disappears.

We will becomes you said you would.

That's quite a transition.

That Mobilisation Plan Wasn't Decorative

You know the mobilisation plan everyone admired?

The one with the beautiful timeline and neat little milestones?

AWARD.

PEOPLE.

SYSTEMS.

TRAINING.

TESTING.

GO LIVE.

Very professional. Very reassuring. Very capable.

Well, somebody now expects you to actually follow it.

Worse still, they may have put the dates in their calendar.

That impressive promise about being fully operational within 14 days?

Day One starts now, sunshine.

First, Find Out What You've Actually Won

Before everyone starts ordering uniforms and announcing the victory on LinkedIn, it is worth establishing precisely what has been awarded.

There may still be contract negotiations.

There may be securities or guarantees to arrange.

Insurance certificates to provide.

Licences to confirm.

Schedules to finalise.

Personnel to approve.

And occasionally there will be something everyone assumed was sorted during the tender that absolutely wasn't.

This is why contracts have lawyers and project managers.

Tender writers get to quietly back away at this point.

Mostly.

Please Tell Operations What You Promised

This deserves its own section because it happens more often than you'd imagine.

The people who wrote the tender and the people who deliver the contract are not always the same people.

Which means somewhere in Australia an Operations Manager is probably discovering a commitment for the first time by hearing:

“But we said we'd do that in the tender.”

Wonderful.

Everybody loves a surprise.

Especially one involving additional reporting.

A proper tender-to-operations handover should include the obvious things:

Who is doing what?

When does everything start?

What are the KPIs?

What reporting did we promise?

What meetings did we agree to?

What technology did we say we'd use?

What response times did we commit to?

And did we name Dave as Contract Manager without checking whether Dave actually wants to be Contract Manager?

Ask Dave.

Mobilisation Is Organised Chaos

Depending on the contract, mobilisation can involve:

Recruitment.

Rosters.

Vehicles.

Equipment.

Uniforms.

Software.

Suppliers.

Subcontractors.

Training.

Inductions.

Security clearances.

Site access.

Policies.

Procedures.

Client meetings.

And seventeen spreadsheets called some variation of:

Mobilisation Tracker FINAL v3 UPDATED.xlsx

This is normal.

The objective is to turn the lovely theoretical business described in the tender into an actual functioning service before somebody starts measuring your performance.

No pressure.

Set Up the Things You Promised to Measure

Here's another entertaining trap.

Tender:

“Performance will be monitored through comprehensive monthly KPI reporting.”

Month One:

“Does anyone know where we're getting this data from?”

If you promised to measure response times, complaints, incidents, recycling rates, local employment, safety performance, customer satisfaction or the number of left-handed electricians employed during a full moon, somebody needs to start collecting that information.

Preferably before the first report is due.

Day One Should Be Boring

This sounds strange, but I genuinely think Day One should be boring.

People arrive.

They know where they're going.

The equipment works.

Everyone has access.

The client knows who to call.

Nobody is running around asking whether Gary completed his induction.

That is a beautiful Day One.

All the chaos should have happened beforehand.

Quietly.

Where the client couldn't see it.

Then Start Collecting the Good Stuff

Once you're delivering the contract, something very useful begins to happen.

You start creating evidence.

You solve a difficult problem.

Save the example.

You exceed a KPI.

Save the result.

The client sends a lovely email.

For the love of God, save the email.

You introduce a better process.

Record what changed.

You mobilise successfully despite something going horribly wrong three days before commencement.

That story is gold.

Because one day another tender will ask:

“Provide an example demonstrating your ability to successfully mobilise a comparable contract.”

And instead of everyone staring at each other saying:

“Didn't we do something really good for that client a couple of years ago?”

you'll actually have the answer.

And Around We Go Again

Tendering doesn't really end when you submit.

It doesn't even end when you win.

You bid.

You win.

You mobilise.

You deliver.

You solve problems.

You collect evidence.

And eventually another tender lands.

Hopefully, this time, you're ready for it.

So yes.

Celebrate the win.

Have the champagne.

Post the photo.

Tell everyone how bloody brilliant you are.

You earned it.

But tomorrow morning?

Open the tender again.

Because all those beautiful promises you made have officially stopped being tender content.

They're now your to-do list.