Turning the page of a document that took 49 weeks to write, Marcus hears a vibration that sounds like a death rattle against the mahogany boardroom table. It is his phone. The notification light is a frantic, pulsing amber. On the 29th floor of this glass tower, the air smells of expensive toner and $19-per-cup artisan coffee, a scent that usually signifies stability and high-level thought. But as the Chief Operating Officer points to a chart forecasting a 19 percent growth margin for the year 2029, Marcus is looking at a news alert. The world has just tilted. The global supply chain is snapping like a brittle twig. The carefully bound binder in front of him, which cost the firm roughly $899,000 in consultant fees, has become a historical artifact in less than 9 seconds.
We possess this strange, human obsession with the long-term forecast. We treat a strategic plan like a sacred text, something that, once printed and laminated, has the power to bend reality to its will. It is a comforting lie. I know this because I recently fell for a similar trap involving a Pinterest board and a DIY industrial pipe bookshelf. The photo showed a rustic, sturdy masterpiece. My plan was meticulous. I bought 29 separate components. I measured the wall 9 times. I spent 59 hours of my life scouring hardware
