The RFP Circus: A Love Letter to the World’s Most Elaborate Pretence

 

RFPs: Request For Performance…Theatre

 

Sorry to defy the conventional RFP definition…almost forgot…yes I got it now…Request For Proposal.

 

As I write this, I can visualise a brand manager copy-pasting an RFP template from 2020, changing the logo, and calling it “a strategic partnership opportunity.” The heavens are weeping( No, the Bangalore rains this morning was something else). Somewhere else, an agency is pulling three all-nighters to answer 17 questions about “brand philosophy” for a pitch they know — in their bone marrow — was already decided over golf(or golgappas) on Saturday.

 

Welcome to the RFP. The world’s most expensive theatrical performance where everybody knows the ending but nobody breaks character.

 

Let’s call the shovel a shovel, shall we?

 

The RFP, as currently practised by most brands, is essentially a free consulting extraction machine dressed in the language of “due diligence.” You’re not evaluating agencies. You’re harvesting intellectual capital from six desperate vendors while the decision maker’s brother-in-law’s agency warms the winner’s chair. The “evaluation matrix” with its delightful columns of Strategy (20%), Creativity (25%), Team (15%), and Cost (40% but listed last to seem classy) is democracy theatre of the highest order.

 

The real comedy?

 

The evaluation criteria that asks agencies to demonstrate “deep cultural understanding” but the shortlisting is done by someone who hasn’t spoken to a consumer since 2016. That requests “breakthrough creative thinking” but caps the budget at what wouldn’t cover a decent documentary. That demands “long-term partnership vision” from someone who changes agencies more often than their Instagram profile picture.

 

The agency side isn’t innocent either. They dress their speculative work in confident fonts, present recycled frameworks with evangelical conviction, and call three junior executives “The Core Team” while the actual talent never enters the room.

 

RFPs: Request For Performance…Theatre

 

Somewhere in a glass-walled boardroom, an RFP is being born. Not as a quest for brilliance, but as a beautifully formatted ritual. A document that whispers: “Show us your best thinking”…while quietly budgeting for the cheapest thinking available.

 

Welcome to the grand opera of “RFP for Vendors” where agencies pirouette, procurement claps politely, and merit is the understudy who never gets stage time. Welcome to Russian Roulette with blanks.

 

Act 1, Part 1

 

The opening act is always seductive. “Looking for a long-term strategic partner.”

Translation: Three presentations, five rounds, twelve stakeholders, and a decision already pre-decided in a WhatsApp chat.

 

Agencies arrive like Olympic athletes. Strategy decks that could double as PhD theses. Films that could win at Cannes. Ideas that could make a brand feel something other than quarterly anxiety. And then comes the twist ending:

“Can you match the lowest quote?”

 

India’s masala remix?

 

Picture a Delhi FMCG behemoth RFPs for “disruptive content storytelling.” You pour Diwali-level effort into GOLOKA-esque narratives. Shortlist? The Mumbai shop with “digital expertise” (read: interns on Canva). Verdict: “Your ideas brilliant, but budget!” Why? “Procurement.” It’s the corporate equivalent of “It’s not you, it’s our P&L.”

 

It’s less Mad Men, more Deal or No Deal.

 

Across India, a boutique agency crafts a soul-stirring brand narrative. In London, a mid-sized firm builds a cultural movement blueprint. In Dubai, a digital shop reverse-engineers consumer behavior like a Swiss watch. All three lose to…a spreadsheet with a smaller number. Now go, spread the word!

 

Globally consistent. Locally perfected.

 

In New York, agencies joke that RFP stands for “Really Fixed Process.” In Bengaluru, it’s “Rehearse, Perform, Perish.” In Mumbai, it’s simply “Rate First Please.”

 

The irony is rich enough to invoice. But don’t you dare try it. And if you do, please ensure your price is the lowest!

 

Nothing Changes

 

Because brands don’t actually lack good agencies. They lack the appetite to choose them for the right reasons. The RFP becomes a polite alibi. A compliance costume. A paper trail that says, “We evaluated everyone fairly” while the decision quietly hums, “We evaluated cost obsessively.”

 

And agencies? They play along. They romanticize the chase. They submit unpaid thinking like it’s a devotional offering. They convince themselves that this time, surely, the idea will win.

 

PS: It rarely does.

 

Ever wonder why RFPs demand 43-page decks plus free mood boards, yet decisions hinge on “rate cards“? Because depth? Nah. It’s shallowness disguised as process—agencies shortlisted by Excel wizards, not visionaries.

 

And the shortlisting process?

 

Please. It’s a mood ring, not merit. “We loved your case studies, but your deck’s font felt aggressive.” Or the classic: “Your team is brilliant, but our procurement guy didn’t like your coffee.” Or the ubiquitous cut paste four para regret note that is as emotionless as a doorknob. At this point, agencies should submit quotes in crayon. It matches the depth of evaluation.

 

The RFP charade is a mask for indecision. Brands fearful of owning a point of view hide behind “process.” They want to look polite while gutting value. They tick boxes like tourists ticking temples—no prayer, just photos. They( read the VP-Marketing) want vendors who will give them a roll up overnight Rs 80 cheaper; not an entity with breakthrough strategy or moonshot thinking that delivers.

 

The Tragedy?

If you shop for imagination like you shop for office chairs, don’t be surprised when your brand sits comfortably…and says nothing.

The tragedy isn’t that cheaper agencies win. The tragedy is that better thinking doesn’t even get a fair audition.

 

So what now?

Brands, if you truly want transformation, rewrite the ritual.
Pay for thinking. Shortlist for chemistry. Decide for courage.
Because the cost of safe decisions is invisibly expensive.

 

Agencies, stop auditioning for every stage.
Qualify the client as hard as they qualify you.
If the brief smells like procurement, don’t spray it with creativity.

 

Brands, stop the motions. Agencies, demand paid pilots.

 

Merit-first RFPs exist—Scandinavian brands nail it with “idea bounties.”

 

India, let’s pioneer: Reverse RFPs where you vet them on vision, not just velocity.

 

And maybe, just maybe, we rename RFP to something more honest?

 

RSL — Request for the Safest Lowest.

 

Or, if we’re feeling generous,

 

RFT — Request For Trust.

 

Because the brands that win tomorrow won’t be the ones who found the cheapest partner.

 

They’ll be the ones who had the spine to choose the right one.

 

So, what to take away?

 

Brands: Stop asking for magic at bargain-bin prices.

If you run an RFP without real intent, you will attract real actors—not artists. You’ll get compliance, not courage. And your brand will sound like every other brand: safe, sorry, and silent.

 

Agencies: Ditch the dance. Chase clients craving heart over hustle. Your stories deserve shovels that dig gold, not dirt-cheap graves. Who’s in?

The contrarians will disagree. Good. Let them. But the ground truth is simple: Merit isn’t a checkbox. It’s a mirror.Look into yours before you send that next PDF.

Or don’t. And keep wondering why your “brand story” sounds like a terms of service agreement. Your move next.

 

PS: On a completely different note, I am taking the liberty to share here that my other blog SOHB(State Of The Heart Branding) Story is now a Podcast as well. You can access it on these links below:

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