I Am the Very Model of a Modern Product Manager
Ahhh…... Thanksgiving dinner. A time to reunite with family, catch up with friends. The turkey rests. The sides circulate. From somewhere in the house, The Pirates of Penzance is playing, and no one knows why. And then it happens. Your uncle leans back in his chair and launches the annual question.
“So remind me. What exactly do you do again?”
You look up from your plate. Every year.
You think to yourself, “Should I tell him I’m in computers again?”
A spotlight appears from nowhere. The room goes quiet. Your fork is still in your hand, but the stage is set.
Cue into the number
Violins, cellos, and basses stir in the distance…...
You stand. Clear your throat......ahem! And begin.
I am the very model of a modern product manager,
I talk in user stories and I roadmap like a strategist.
I know the voice of customer and shape it like an alchemist,
While dodging all the pitfalls that would terrify a panelist.
(The kids at the kiddie table lean in, entirely too enthusiastic)
Oh, pitfalls that would terrify a panelist!
My backlog is a battleground of features quite tyrannical,
My stakeholders are legion with enthusiasm fanatical.
In meetings I unite them with diplomacy and stamina,
I build business acumen with methods analytical.
(Your mother-in-law joins in, stirring the gravy in perfect tempo)
With methods analytical.
With methods analytical.
With methods analyt-analyt-analytical!
I challenge every bias with a patience almost pastoral,
I plan around constraints that make the engineers feel sorrowful.
In short, in tasks of juggling needs both technical and manager-ial,
I am the very model of a modern product manager.
(The whole table rises; forks raised like torches for the final line)
He is the very model of a modern product manager!
You blink.
The spotlight is gone. Pirates of Penzance plays softly in the background. Everyone is still in their seats. Your fork has not moved an inch.
Your uncle nods with the expression of a man who understands nothing but respects your effort.
“Pass the sweat potatoes,” he says.
You smile. Pour more wine.
There is always next year.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Check out the original song here: https://youtu.be/5b5pV7akkVA?si=qX6xAFsyWv8EtfSp
