星空传媒

The morning dawns grey in a small Surrey town. Five men in shirtsleeves sit in a conspicuous gold people carrier, parked across the road from a new, unlet office complex. They watch the building and study their notes. Occasionally they exchange remarks.

I am embedded on the front lines of the CMYA judging process. I am not able to give precise locations for fear of jeopardising the element of surprise on the night of the awards, 16 October.

The men check their watches. It's time. They fan out as they cross the road, trying to get a better perspective on the building. They wonder if their man is watching from somewhere inside, sizing them up before the ordeal begins.

No, as it happens. He's been chatting in the marketing suite. He steps out and walks confidently toward his judges.

Chairman of the adjudication panel John Trussler, former chief executive of Kyle Stewart (now part of HBG UK), takes charge of the situation, introducing everyone and explaining formally the reason for the visit. Kevin (not his real name) indicates that he is ready.

Inside the judges look around but it becomes clear that the man is alone. "Where are your supporters?" says Trussler. It turns out they gave their excuses at the last minute. This could be bad or good. Bad, because it's five against one. Good, because sometimes supporters detract from the candidate by blowing their own trumpets too much. Sometimes they're downright derogatory.

The interrogation
Seated around a table in the middle of an empty floor, the questioning begins. Their job is to probe into the construction manager's skill and leadership at all stages of the contract. The judges seem to take it easy. Kevin talks frankly about the ins and outs of building the office complex. Trussler has no trouble guiding the session through most of the two dozen interrogation points. After 45 minutes, Kevin gives a three-minute presentation, read, by and large from a script. There is one suppressed yawn. Time-keeping is strict. He is cut off in mid-sentence.

Next comes the tour of the building. The judges like this part because it draws the candidate into a less formal exchange. But Kevin is either well-prepared or has nothing to hide because he is relaxed and engaging the whole way through.

Back in the people carrier on the way to Heathrow the debrief is slow to kick-off. The judges test each other before committing themselves, but overall the noises are positive, if vague. Finally the youngest of the team, Peter Whitmore of Laing O'Rourke and BMYA medallist in 2001, ventures the opening gambit.

"Can I just point out that he made several errors which cost the client money?"

Judges and jury
And the debate begins, each judge setting out his position as to the merits of the case. This is a key element of the process because later in the day they will have to agree to consensual scores. It's cut short as they arrive at Heathrow. Keith Chamberlain, the CIOB's senior practice manager, is also judge, adjudication manager, driver, chief cook and bottle-washer. He shepherds them out and tells them to meet in a designated coffee shop while he returns the hired van and arranges train tickets into London. Chamberlain is showing slight signs of wear. This is only one of the posses of judges he has had to organise around the country. His mobile rings constantly. Between April and June panels like this criss-cross the country judging entries for 11 categories. The logistics, including transport and accommodation, rest on his shoulders.

This particular panel has been on the road all week, hitting sites in Manchester, Nottingham, Runcorn, Hemel Hempstead, Andover, and now London and Surrey.

In the coffee shop, the discussion continues intermittently as the judges begin to score Kevin privately.

Trial by committee
"You weren't very tough on him," I say to John Nelson, of project managers John Nelson & Associates.

"We didn't have to be. It all came out of its own accord."

Veteran judge Chris Richards, formerly deputy MD of Tysons, sidles up. "It's up to the chairman to set the tone," he says.

"One year we had a candidate break down in tears."

The next stop is the Shaftsbury Hotel, where the judges will have a chance to drop their bags and grab some lunch before the next interview in Holborn. Lunch is scuppered when a crucial 20 minutes is lost as the hotel appears to have cancelled the reservations unbidden. Chamberlain wrangles politely with the manager, mobile wedged between shoulder and ear.

One year we had a candidate break down in tears

Chris Richards

We make it in two cabs to the EC1 address with enough time for a sandwich at a crowded, adjacent Starbucks. John Trussler munches vacantly, balancing his all-day breakfast panini on his knees.

"You're quiet, John," somebody says.

The chairman holds up one, squished half panini in explanation and entreaty.

Sharp shooters
As Trussler is left alone with his panini, the others study the next candidate's documentation. They focus on his photograph.

"I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley," one says.

Two others are having a mild ethical discussion. The topic: should the fact that a previous candidate's marriage broke up during the project be counted as a sign of his personal commitment to the job?

Outside a Jaguar pulls up on a zigzag. The driver opens the door for a dapper man with a flawless coif and a golf complexion. Smartly, he enters the building, their building, a prestige office block.

In the plush meeting room the mood is very different from this morning. The candidate is flanked on his left by a quiet, watchful colleague and on his right by the client, the man from the chauffeured Jag. The judges lob questions from all directions and Trussler, the chair, has a job keeping order. They are trying to pinpoint at precisely what stage the candidate joined the project and therefore for what he can take credit. The candidate, a big man, has an unexpectedly quiet voice.

"Mr Chairman, may I come in at this point?" says the client smoothly. Just as smooth, Trussler says: "Thank you for asking. Yes you may. I'll just point out that we do like to maintain a certain protocol for supporters. On one occasion we had 13 trying to crowd into the room."

Polite laughter. The client makes a succinct, relevant contribution. Trussler thanks him. The interview continues.

When it comes time for the candidate's presentation, he doesn't recite from his notes. But his voice is quiet, the air conditioning is mesmerising, the bolted paninis sit heavily, and it has been a long week. A few eyelids commence the yo-yo routine. He, too, must be cut short.

Final showdown
It's now 5:15 and the judges are arguing over scores back in the Shaftsbury Hotel. It was all fine until Peter Whitmore voiced concerns about the way scores seem to be getting lower as the week progresses.

"I just think we overscored him," he says of an earlier candidate.

Keith Chamberlain steps in. He's dealt with this objection before.

"Look, I don't want to revisit the marking. If we went back again the scores would be lower, but in proportion. You'll find it doesn't affect the ranking we've been working toward."

Finally, Whitmore is convinced.