They say the only constant is change, and even though you want to hurt them when they say that because you've heard it so often, there's truth in what they say -- particularly when it comes to consolidation in the BPM market.

It's not just change that's the challenge of consolidation; it's the innumerable foul-ups that come with it. To understand this phenomenon completely, we need to understand the motivations behind M&A activity. See, companies generally don't merge because they're worried that they aren't serving their customers well enough. They merge because they aren't serving their shareholders well enough. Mergers and acquisitions create "synergies" -- the term derives from the Greek word for "hassles."

Take me, for example. I once worked for a company that ran on Macs. It merged with an outfit that used PCs. Gradually, we began to sense that Macs were falling into disfavor. The help desk staff, formerly available from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m., now answered their phones only between 9 a.m. and 10 a.m. on Canadian holidays. Orders for new software languished in our purchasing department, or, as we called it, "Guantanamo." Finally came "M-Day," when our Macs were forcibly confiscated and we were allowed to retain our jobs only if we signed an affidavit promising that we would never again utter the adjective "cross-platform."

Anyway, a merger motivated by anything other than better serving clients is a merger born in hell. If your BPM software vendor ends up being bought by a competitor, can you be confident that the new, combined entity will be as moderately diligent about supporting your system as the original, unconsolidated company was? Or will you instead be like the child whose mother marries a man who has three children of his own, and you suspect he likes them more than you because he calls you Rusty when your name is really Esmeralda?

But it gets worse, because once the consolidation impulse starts, there's no stopping it. Imagine that shortly after your mom marries your new stepfather, she leverages the synergies of that deal and opportune market conditions to acquire an upstart, technologically advanced husband with a flair for modeling. And then she snags an undervalued, industry-leading husband whose assets include 15 kids who are software engineers in Pakistan. With all these new players, where will you be in the family pecking order? Will your needs be important to the transition team? Who will give you the tech support you must have to achieve your dream of becoming the first person to win "American Idol" by yodeling? And how many hyphens will your new surname contain?

Well, I hate to tell you this, but it looks to me like you'll end up getting about as much care and attention as the 12th kid in the movie "Cheaper by the Dozen." What you need from your new family won't be remotely the same as what you get. The emotional cost to you will be high. Starved for love and attention, you'll run away to another vendor.

That's why I urge you to support the Software Continuity Act of 2006, Version 2.1. Sponsored by Senator Mike DeFault, the bill would give BPM software buyers recourse through secret Commerce Department courts if their vendor doesn't meet minimum federal standards of perfor-mance in terms of technical support, access to that support and politeness from customer service reps. Technology providers would be eligible for tax credits for enhancing acquired software assets post-consolidation, but they would face tax penalties for refusing to support legacy customers -- including, regrettably, those with "American Idol" aspirations.

I urge you to contact your elected representatives today to urge passage of this important legislation. Keep your calls and letters short and to the point. But use all of your last names.

Dan Danbom writes humor for a number of publications. His latest book is "Humor Meets Your Workforce: Make Laughter One of Your Organization's Goals."