Every project manager knows the type. The stakeholder who changes her mind twelve times before lunch, then insists she has never changed a thing. For Megan Pierce, that stakeholder was Patricia Waverly.
It was the middle of July, and Megan stood under a striped tent behind the community center holding her old notebook, the one her project manager mentor gave her on the first day on the job. Inside it lived the plans for the town’s big Winter Glow Festival. It was six months away, which meant this was the calm part of the year… at least in theory.
Patricia Waverly marched toward the tent with an air of brisk certainty that never lasted more than thirty seconds. Martin Forester trudged in from the parking lot like someone personally offended by sunshine.
Pat smiled in greeting. “Megan, I have been thinking. The Winter Glow Festival needs fireworks this year. Big ones. People should feel them in their sternums.”
Megan wrote down, “Fireworks request.”
Martin arrived in time to hear that. “Perfect. Nothing says celebration like traumatizing every dog and cat in town.”
Pat waved him off. “Martin, please. I never said fireworks.”
“You literally just said it,” Martin replied.
“I did not,” Pat said confidently.
Megan placed her pen on the page. The meeting had begun.
Megan went through the agenda and explained the governance process, how decisions needed review before approval. Pat nodded thoughtfully, then announced she wanted floating lanterns that spelled the word Hope. Martin groaned into his iced coffee.
Two minutes later, Pat said lanterns were a fire hazard, and she had never suggested them.
Megan wrote quietly, I’d like to put Pat on a floating lantern.
The second meeting in August brought humidity and gnats. Megan fanned her notebook and reviewed the agenda.
Martin Forester trudged up the walkway, carrying nothing but irritation. He wiped a line of sweat from his brow and stepped under the tent just in time to catch Pat’s announcement.
Pat arrived first, wearing sunglasses the size of saucers and a floppy hat that nearly brushed her shoulders. She swept into the tent with dramatic flair.
“Megan, I have been thinking. We cannot have a theme about winter this year. Too predictable. We need something daring. Something bold.”
“It is a winter festival, Pat,” Martin said, voice flat as week-old soda. “The whole point is winter.”
Pat waved a dramatic hand. “Martin, please. Your negativity is stifling the creative process.”
Megan clicked her pen, already bracing for another meeting that would require more communication updates than actual decisions.
Pat inhaled dramatically. “Fine. Winter, but unexpected. Mysterious. Possibly involving lasers.”
“You want lasers now,” Martin said. “Do you hear yourself?”
Pat crossed her arms. “I never said lasers.”
Megan wrote, Someone shoot me with a laser.
She introduced the change impact log. Martin nodded approvingly until he learned it required him to read the log. Pat said she loved transparency but did not think transparency should include keeping records of her decisions.
Megan took another steadying breath. She guided them through communication expectations, trying to explain that frequent changes increased the need for updates. Pat insisted she did not change things often. Martin choked on that and muttered something unprintable.
The meeting ended with a non-decision about decorations.
October arrived with crisp mornings that fooled everyone into thinking decisions would magically become clearer. Megan set up folding chairs in the community hall and tried to convince herself the fall meetings would go smoother because of the cooler temperatures.
Pat burst through the door wearing a fall scarf of leaves that streamed behind her like one of those inflatable tube dancers at car dealerships.
Martin froze halfway through arranging the agenda sheets. “Marvelous. I cannot wait to hear what we are changing for no reason today.”
Pat beamed, oblivious. “I think the winter festival needs glow sticks. Everywhere. On the booths. On the trees. On the reindeer. Imagine the parade at dusk. A radiant river of neon joy.”
Martin exhaled sharply. “Yes, nothing says winter tradition like a glowing herd.”
“They must replace the fireworks,” Pat added. “No one even likes loud noises. You said so yourself. Glow is the future. Children will adore it. Adults will feel young again. And governance committees respect safety. It is win win win.”
Martin exhaled sharply. “Lasers last month, glow sticks this month. At this rate we will need a scoreboard just to track your brilliant ideas.”
Megan cleared her throat. “Let us capture the idea and evaluate impacts before we finalize. Stakeholders will need to weigh in. The town council will want safety data. Communication needs will change if we replace the lasers.”
Pat brightened. “Great, the lasers are out.”
Martin slapped the table. “Pat, changing lasers requires actual change control. The kind that involves evidence and planning, not a vibe.”
Pat lifted her chin. “But I feel strongly.”
Martin pointed at her. “You also felt strongly about lasers.”
Pat blinked, as if she had never heard the word before.
Megan scribbled in her notebook, Check on vacation days for December, before ending the meeting.
December has arrived with the Winter Glow Festival only one week away, and the final planning meeting scheduled in the town hall. Megan arrived early, reviewed the decision log, and whispered a small prayer for patience not to strangle a certain stakeholder..
Pat arrived holding a binder so thick it could stop traffic. She set it down with a dramatic thud. “Megan, I can’t wait to see the fireworks display at the Festival. ”
“Fireworks? Are you serious right now? You’ve wasted our time for six months with all your brilliant ideas about everything other than fireworks.” Martin slammed his fist on the table, causing Pat’s binder to fall on the floor, papers scattering under their feet.
“What are you talking about? ,” Pat said.
Megan lifted her notebook. “Pat, we have a record. You changed from fireworks to floating lanterns, from floating lanterns to lasers, and from lasers to glow sticks.”
Pat waved a hand. “That does not sound like me.”
Martin threw his arms in the air. “It is literally written down.”
Megan stepped between them. “All right. We have one week left, so here is what matters. Stakeholders’ expectations change and needs evolve. That is normal. Also, Pat you influence the project and we need to manage that intentionally.”
Martin grumbled, “Before the whole town sets something on fire.”
Megan continued, “So we are sticking with the Winter Glow Festival plan we approved. No new ideas. No last minute pivots. Our communication cadence stays daily. Impacts are reviewed before changes. And decisions remain decisions.”
Pat hesitated, then sighed. “Fine.”
Martin looked stunned. “You do?”
Pat gave a small nod. Megan allowed herself the tiniest smile. “Excellent. Then we are aligned.”
The three of them reviewed the final plan. Pat still had opinions. Martin still complained. But for the first time, they were all moving in the same direction.
Megan closed her notebook and thought, This is what stakeholder management looks like. Messy. Loud. And completely worth it. The Winter Glow Festival would be ready. And if it wasn’t, Megan still had one blank page left.
Just in case.