At my last job, I spent three days coding up a solution which would save us days of work on every client-facing project. I had been thinking about the problem for a long time and saw a simple and elegant solution. It was ready to go, including testing and documentation. When I demoed it, folks were impressed.
Unfortunately, management had the idea that the way to contain costs was to have the Product division develop these kinds of tools. My division was supposed to focus on deploying Product’s solutions to clients, not build solutions ourselves. Management could see the value in my solution; they just didn’t like the fact that it had come from me, not from Product.
So I was told to write up a spec for the solution I had already implemented, and give it to Product to reimplement. I did that, but Product was notoriously slow and ineffective. They had way too many masters to serve, and they weren’t immersed in our day-to-day work to understand our needs.
Two and a half years later, the solution was still not rolled out. I was still trying to get Product to fix the fatal bugs in their crappy implementation. I had escalated it multiple times.
I ended up quitting that job in disgust. The case I just described was a symptom of a large and serious organizational problem; I kept running up against it. In my resignation letter, I did the math to show management how many hundreds of hours we would have saved by now if we had adopted my solution when I wrote it. I sent that letter around to a bunch of senior managers. There was a belated plea for me to stay, but I already had another job lined up.