At DXC, "synergy" isn't just a buzzword—it's a religion practiced by middle managers who haven't approved a single decision since 2019 without first escalating it to a steering committee, which then escalates it to a governance board, which schedules a follow-up to discuss whether a meeting is needed.
The performance bell curve is so aggressively steep it's basically a cliff face. Somewhere around the 99.9th percentile, perfectly balanced on the summit, sit exactly two people: the CEO and whichever golden-boy lieutenant he's decided is "strategically essential," each pocketing a multi-million-pound pay bump for vision and leadership the rest of the org has never personally witnessed. Everyone else is distributed along the rest of the curve like sediment, fighting over a 1.8% pool increase and a "thank you for your resilience" email.
The org chart resembles a conspiracy theory corkboard: red string everywhere, nobody quite sure who owns anything, and at least three VPs with "Transformation" in their title who have personally transformed nothing except the breakroom coffee machine, replaced with a worse one to save 4% on facilities spend — savings presumably redirected straight into the summit-dwellers' bonus pool.
Project deadlines run on a unique temporal model where "Q3 delivery" means "Q3 of an unspecified future year," and the only thing that ships on time is the all-hands email reminding everyone "we are one team," sent forty-five minutes after a quiet round of layoffs nobody mentions out loud.
Ask anyone what DXC actually does and you'll get a 20-minute answer involving "digital" and "transformation" that explains nothing, followed by a sigh, followed by them asking if you know of any open roles elsewhere — preferably ones with a flatter curve.