The Tender Process: Round Three - The AI Gambit
Welcome to the Corporate Cage Match
In the thrilling world of procurement, where every deal feels like a high-stakes poker game, our heroes face their greatest adversaries: the buyers from the automotive industry. After battling through endless rounds of negotiations, it’s time for the final showdown. Will they seal the deal, or will the bad cop/good cop routine break their spirits? And what happens when the buyers casually suggest that they found AI developers online for 20 euros an hour? Let the chaos begin.
Podcast for this story, generated by Google’s NotebookLM.
If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with a purchasing negotiator in the automotive industry, let me paint you a picture: imagine a high-stakes poker game, but instead of chips, you’re betting your sanity, your company’s future, and, quite possibly, your will to live. This is the tender process—round three, no less—and by now, we’re battle-hardened veterans. The bids of the remaining competitors have been negotiated down to the pain threshold in the previous rounds. Now it's all about who can hold their nerve and still have a "best price" ace up their sleeve.
Act 1: Enter the Arena
The Founder had been through this before. He knew the drill. The buyers were tough negotiators, but we had the skills, the tech, and the experience to win the contract. The stakes were high—if we landed this deal, we’d be set for years. If we didn’t? Well, let’s just say the office wouldn’t be celebrating with pizza for a long time.
But this was Round Three. By now, the buyers weren’t playing nice. We stepped into the boardroom ready to present our proposal, but before we even had a chance to pull out the first slide, one of them—let’s call him Bad Cop—leaned back in his chair, smirking.
“So, how do you plan to compete with the new fully remote development team we found for 20 euros an hour?”
Cue the collective gasp.
The Lead-Developer who had been quietly preparing to discuss technical specs froze mid-keystroke. The Managing Director (MD) shot a desperate glance at the Founder, and we all knew what was coming next: the inevitable fight for survival. Because once Bad Cop starts throwing out bargain-basement rates, you know things are about to get messy.
Act 2: The Takedown Begins
The Founder, cool as ever, leaned forward and smiled. “We offer experience and expertise,” he said. “You’re not just buying code, you’re buying solutions.” It was a good line—a strong one. But the buyers were professionals, and they weren’t going down without a fight.
Cue Good Cop. He slid a document across the table. “We love your proposal, but we’ll need a 20% reduction in your fees. You understand, right? Budget cuts, global markets, the usual.”
The MD winced visibly. Twenty percent? We’d barely break even. “We’re already offering our best price,” the Founder replied calmly, but I could see the tension building. This wasn’t just about a price cut—this was about survival. The Controllers would have had a heart attack if they saw the margins we were working with. One wrong move, and the whole project could collapse.
Act 3: The Sweat, The Silence
The room fell into that eerie silence you only get in a corporate cage match. The lead developer looked around nervously, wondering what they could automate in software quality assurance and test coverage to make up for the shortfall.
The Founder and the MD went back and forth with the buyers—every sentence, every counteroffer like a round in a boxing match. “How about we reduce the price by 7% and guarantee that we will stay within the budget limits for large tickets, as we have built such a system before.” the MD suggested, trying to claw back some ground. But the buyers were relentless.
Bad Cop leaned forward again. “What guarantees do we have that your team can deliver faster than our 40-euro developers?” he asked, his smile as cold as a dead server.
The Founder didn’t flinch. “Because we’ve done it before. With your competitors. Faster, better, and without the issues you’re trying to avoid.” The gauntlet was thrown.
Act 4: The AI Gambit - The Showdown in Round Three
Just when it looked like we finally had the upper hand, Bad Cop went in for the kill. Leaning back in his chair, with a mock-casual tone, he dropped the bomb. “You know,” he began, feigning nonchalance, “I’ve been hearing a lot about automation through AI lately. We’re thinking… maybe we don’t need as many developers. Maybe half? Wouldn’t that cut costs?”
The room went dead silent. The Lead Developer turned ghostly pale, his hands frozen mid-gesture, as if the very mention of cutting the team in half had sucked all the oxygen out of the room. The Product Owner shifted uneasily in their seat, their mind racing to think of a diplomatic response.
The Managing Director (MD), ever the negotiator, tried to keep things calm, but you could feel the tension rise. We all knew the truth: sure, AI can handle some automation, but when it comes to building a robust, reliable system, you need real people, writing real code. This wasn’t something you could hand off to algorithms and hope for the best.
But Bad Cop knew exactly what he was doing. He was playing the ultimate card: fear of irrelevance. The Founder didn’t miss a beat. “Fully automating coding with AI has its limits,” he said, unwavering. “We’re not just talking about generating boilerplate code. It’s also about crafting the right prompts for language models to meet constantly changing requirements — and as you know, both the requirements and the language models are always evolving. Now imagine trying to align two constantly changing systems in perfect harmony. When it fails — especially at the interfaces to external systems written by humans — you need real experts to step in and fix the problem. And that’s where we come in.”
For a moment, the tension thickened. Everyone knew this was the turning point. It was a gamble between cutting-edge tech buzzwords and the human expertise that actually delivered results. We were walking a tightrope, and one wrong move could send the whole project tumbling.
Act 5: The Final Blow
The tension in the room was palpable. Bad Cop wasn’t done yet. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, determined to press the advantage. "But," he continued, his voice slick with false reasonableness, "we could save a fortune if we reduce the human factor. AI is getting smarter every day—maybe we don’t need any developers at all. Just a skeleton crew for emergencies. Think of the savings."
The words hung in the air like a dark cloud. The Lead Developer clenched his fists under the table, fighting to keep his composure. The Managing Director (MD) shot him a quick glance, urging calm. But we all knew the stakes had just been raised to an unbearable level. If this went through, we weren’t just talking about cutting costs—we were talking about dismantling everything we’d built.
The Founder took a slow breath. His gaze swept the room, and he saw what was at risk: not just the project, but the entire culture of the team—everything that made this company different. This was more than numbers on a spreadsheet; this was the heart and soul of the operation.
But Bad Cop wasn’t about to give up. "If we don’t cut costs, how can we justify this project to the board? Automation is the future. Developers are expensive—AI is efficient."
The Product Owner, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke up, voice steady but with an edge of steel. "AI can help, sure. But when systems break—because they always do—it’s the people who fix them. The real danger is not in cutting costs but in leaving yourself exposed, with no experts left to pull you out of the fire."
Bad Cop smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "The board isn’t worried about hypothetical fires. They want results."
This was it. The Founder leaned forward, his voice low and deliberate. "Results?" he asked. "You want results? The last time one of your AI projects failed, who stepped in to clean up the mess? We did. And it wasn’t the AI that saved you—it was our team. Cut them, and next time you won’t be so lucky."
The silence that followed was absolute. Even Bad Cop didn’t have a comeback for that. He had played his final card, and the Founder had countered with a truth no one in the room could deny. In the end, cost savings meant nothing if the company’s future was at stake.
We all waited. The air was thick with tension, but the Founder stood firm, the final blow struck. Now, it was up to them to decide.
Act 6: The Aftermath
As the meeting ended, there was no celebration—just a quiet understanding of what lay ahead. The Founder had won the argument, but the pressure was on to deliver. The Developers were relieved, but they knew the timeline was tight, and expectations were even tighter. The Controllers remained skeptical, lurking in the background, waiting for any slip-up to bring their cost-cutting agenda back into play.
Back in the office, the mood was cautious optimism. The team understood that this project wasn’t just about hitting deadlines anymore; it was about proving their worth in a world increasingly obsessed with AI automation. The victory in the boardroom meant nothing if they couldn’t back it up with results. They had a small window to show that real expertise couldn’t be replaced by AI—and they intended to make the most of it.
Conclusion
In the end, the team emerged victorious, having delivered a flawless project that underscored the irreplaceable value of human expertise. Despite the pressure from the Controllers to cut costs and rely on AI, the Founder and his team proved that skilled developers were essential for navigating the complexities that automation simply couldn’t handle. The project wasn’t just a success—it was a statement about the future, where technology and human ingenuity must coexist. Though the battle with cost-cutters and AI advocates would surely return, for now, the team had won, reaffirming their place in the ever-evolving tech landscape.