Today we returned to Eastern Standard Time. Again, my annual reminder of the feeble thinking designers of digital time devices. How hard is it to include a < back button? Sometimes I wish reality was a VCR Tape so we could rewind it back to a time when things were less FUBAR.
Yesterday afternoon, I anwered a call from some outfit that was conducting a telephone survey. Ordinarily, as a charter member of the Do Not Call Society, I'd have growled "Not interested" and then rudely slam down the receiver on the intruding bastards. But yesterday afternoon, the weather had turned nasty, which drove me to shelter in my basement office, ( which just happens to be next to the beer refrigerator.) Consequently, I was feeling somewhat mellow when the office phone (which does not have a caller id display) rang. Curiosity got the better of me, so I picked up the phone and agreed to answer some questions. (Full disclosure requires that I admit to really having nothing better to do.)
The overall design of the survey seemed amateurish to me. There were a lot of questions that were meaningless because they wanted Yes or no answers about things that were too vague to be useful. (Do you think your local officials are doing a good job? With no follow-up or expansion). I found those types of questions to be annoying and refused to answer them. After a few minutes it was clear that the survey was really about Mitt Romney and how I (as a registered voter in Mass) thought he was doing. I told the caller that Mitt should spend more time in the Governor's Office and run for re-election to that post in 2008. I would not vote for Kerry Healy for Governor - (The Jane Swift debacle soured me on women Republicans.) There were a lot of questions about an "Educational Reform" initiative of 1993.
I refused to answer any of these questions . ( I vote against any override or plan that would force people on a fixed income to leave town. Yeah, I know I am no longer on a fixed income, but I plan to retire again in the near future). Let the rich young yuppies who are moving into those Million dollar plus houses down the street pay for the middle school renovation project - I've been paying my dues to this town for over 25 years! The survey caller wanted to know how I felt about the current economy (Positive); Employment (Plenty of Jobs); and Same sex marriage (I have no problems with it). After 15 minutes I asked how long this was going to take. She said 10 more minutes. I told her to make a note that the survety was tedious and boring. From one of my underemployment jobs as a survey caller, I know that the caller gets paid on "completes" so I advised her to get to the end quickly.
This experience re-enforced my opinion about surveys. Most are ill-designed and therefore give ambiguous results. Besides, how valuable is the opinion of a beer swigging independent who has nothing better to do with his time? I would have liked them to ask me about Iran (Major threat to our best ally in the mideast); Iraq (We need to start our own "Oil for Protection" program); the UN (Useless and worse); Syria (et's drop the Big One and see what happens); 12 mile fishing limit (Extend to 26 miles); FEMA (Sounds like a gay rights organization. Well, I'm resigned to the fact that no one really wants to hear my opinions. I cannot side with either political side - since I believe they are both corrupt.
At least I got an extra hour of sleep last night. And I am resolved to install a phone with caller id in the basement office.
10/30/2005
10/15/2005
Murky Saturday
The weather here is Boston has been cloudy and rainy for at least two weeks straight. People tell me that this is what the weather is like in Oregon most of the time. I guess it is not surpirizing that the suicide rate in Oregon is among the highest in the country.
We are all in a foul mood. Everyone you meet is light-deprived and grumpy. I feel like going downtown and looting a big 48 inch plasma TV and spend the rest of the weekend watching Hi-def sporting events, and drinking beer.
But it is not to be. The inlaws have come to town for the gala family wedding celebration. The weather is not cooperating and our plans for some crisp Autumn leaf-peeping have been drenched. Most of the out of towners are sitting in the hotel, by the heated pool, pretending that they are in Florida. Perhaps tomorrow the rain will cease and we will at last get some light.
I was back to work this week on Tuesday. The new PM did not show-up. I found out on Wednesday that he had decided on a career change. This would have been disconcerting, in the light of other recent defections from the project team, if I were an employee who was invested in the successful outcome of this project.
This is the advantage of being a contractor: We do not take credit or blame for any outcome. We are viewed as leased lawnmowers. They bring us in for a specific purpose. Like a lawnmower, we are seen as work tools. Start it up, push it and it mows the lawn. When you are done with it, shut it off and put it in the shed.
Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining, I really like this arrangement. I get paid a lot and the works is easy. I just have to comment on it because it is a totally ineffective way to manage a work project. People are not like interchangable parts. And the "lawn" is more like safari grass than Kentuckey blue fescue. This is why nothing happens on time and under budget.
I got a call the other day from the Micromanager from phase 1. He has been asked to stay on and run the project thru the end of the year. Great, it will be nice to have some continuity, I said. But I was thinking, oh crap, here we go again.
Will this rain ever stop?
We are all in a foul mood. Everyone you meet is light-deprived and grumpy. I feel like going downtown and looting a big 48 inch plasma TV and spend the rest of the weekend watching Hi-def sporting events, and drinking beer.
But it is not to be. The inlaws have come to town for the gala family wedding celebration. The weather is not cooperating and our plans for some crisp Autumn leaf-peeping have been drenched. Most of the out of towners are sitting in the hotel, by the heated pool, pretending that they are in Florida. Perhaps tomorrow the rain will cease and we will at last get some light.
I was back to work this week on Tuesday. The new PM did not show-up. I found out on Wednesday that he had decided on a career change. This would have been disconcerting, in the light of other recent defections from the project team, if I were an employee who was invested in the successful outcome of this project.
This is the advantage of being a contractor: We do not take credit or blame for any outcome. We are viewed as leased lawnmowers. They bring us in for a specific purpose. Like a lawnmower, we are seen as work tools. Start it up, push it and it mows the lawn. When you are done with it, shut it off and put it in the shed.
Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining, I really like this arrangement. I get paid a lot and the works is easy. I just have to comment on it because it is a totally ineffective way to manage a work project. People are not like interchangable parts. And the "lawn" is more like safari grass than Kentuckey blue fescue. This is why nothing happens on time and under budget.
I got a call the other day from the Micromanager from phase 1. He has been asked to stay on and run the project thru the end of the year. Great, it will be nice to have some continuity, I said. But I was thinking, oh crap, here we go again.
Will this rain ever stop?
10/08/2005
Endings
Well, the glorious two-week hiatus from work is about over. I could not have asked for better weather. I love this time of year. It was pretty busy, catching-up on my chores, watching the White Sox kick the crap out of the Red Sox, helping the kids find a new house and helping to murder my favorite cat.
I spoke to the PM for the new project early this week and he wants me to come in for the kick-off meeting next Tuesday (Monday is Columbus Day holiday. The day we commemorate the Italian invasion of India). Columbus, that erstwhile explorer, reminds me of a lot of managers. He had the right idea - If the world is round, then sailing West would take you to the Far East. The crackers in the bedlinen turned out to be the continent of North America which he did not foresee. So we are stuck with the term "Indian" when the correct term should be "Casino Millionaire." But I digress.
Going back to work should put me back on a less chaotic schedule. I have gained 5 pounds since returning to the free life - mainly owing to the inordinate consumption of Sierra Nevada's and Dewers. And snack food. The house has been full with children and grandchildren for the past month. They are staying here temporarily while they looked for their own home. (Their offer on a place closer to the town where they are working was just accepted, so they will be here until the passing of papers next month.) We are appalled at their diet. Most of the stuff they like to eat is prepared foods, donuts, fast food products, lots of soda and take-out. The pantry is full of tempting chips and snacks. These things we had eliminated from our eating lives.
Our disapproval of their food choices are met with obstinate dismissal. They are a bad influence on my weight loss program. We are very happy that they are with us, as opposed to being in California and when they get settled in the new place it should be less chaotic. We will probably miss the constant noise that is generated by young boys when they are not napping.
We are trying to figure-out the best way to tell the grandkids about the cat, which went to the vet yesterday on the one-way trip which we have been dreading. The cat was diagnosed with renal failure four years ago. We have kept him alive and relatively happy all this time by a weekly infusion of saline solution injected with a big scary needle. But, inevitably, his system began to shut-down. He lost weight, stopped grooming; he looked miserable. We decided yesterday that he was suffering too much. I stayed in the room while the Dr. gave him a lethal overdose of happy juice. Ten seconds later he was in kitty heaven chasing a fat mouse. I admit that I felt the same way Elvis described in the song Old Shep ("I had killed the best [cat] the a boy ever knew... ")
The new Roberts supreme court is currently reviewing the right to die case in Oregon. Conservatives are uncharacteristically going in favor of Federal Authority here as opposed to States Rights. John Ashcroft did not approve of the law in Oregon and his successors are challenging the ruling which blocked Ashcroft's directive regarding prescribing drugs. This will be a nice test to see whether Roberts is a conservative flunky or a man worthy of his robes.
As a man who has admitted to assisting in the peticide of a beloved cat to end it's suffering, I think you know how I stand on this issue. In fact, I would gladly have authorized the forcible taking of John Ashcroft's kidneys if it would have kept my cat healthy.)
The grandkids haven't noticed yet that one of the cats is not among us. (It is not unusual for the cats to hide from the little boys for days on end). But one of these days one of them is going to ask. And, I suppose we will have to tell them the upsetting news: The Red Sox are losers!
I spoke to the PM for the new project early this week and he wants me to come in for the kick-off meeting next Tuesday (Monday is Columbus Day holiday. The day we commemorate the Italian invasion of India). Columbus, that erstwhile explorer, reminds me of a lot of managers. He had the right idea - If the world is round, then sailing West would take you to the Far East. The crackers in the bedlinen turned out to be the continent of North America which he did not foresee. So we are stuck with the term "Indian" when the correct term should be "Casino Millionaire." But I digress.
Going back to work should put me back on a less chaotic schedule. I have gained 5 pounds since returning to the free life - mainly owing to the inordinate consumption of Sierra Nevada's and Dewers. And snack food. The house has been full with children and grandchildren for the past month. They are staying here temporarily while they looked for their own home. (Their offer on a place closer to the town where they are working was just accepted, so they will be here until the passing of papers next month.) We are appalled at their diet. Most of the stuff they like to eat is prepared foods, donuts, fast food products, lots of soda and take-out. The pantry is full of tempting chips and snacks. These things we had eliminated from our eating lives.
Our disapproval of their food choices are met with obstinate dismissal. They are a bad influence on my weight loss program. We are very happy that they are with us, as opposed to being in California and when they get settled in the new place it should be less chaotic. We will probably miss the constant noise that is generated by young boys when they are not napping.
We are trying to figure-out the best way to tell the grandkids about the cat, which went to the vet yesterday on the one-way trip which we have been dreading. The cat was diagnosed with renal failure four years ago. We have kept him alive and relatively happy all this time by a weekly infusion of saline solution injected with a big scary needle. But, inevitably, his system began to shut-down. He lost weight, stopped grooming; he looked miserable. We decided yesterday that he was suffering too much. I stayed in the room while the Dr. gave him a lethal overdose of happy juice. Ten seconds later he was in kitty heaven chasing a fat mouse. I admit that I felt the same way Elvis described in the song Old Shep ("I had killed the best [cat] the a boy ever knew... ")
The new Roberts supreme court is currently reviewing the right to die case in Oregon. Conservatives are uncharacteristically going in favor of Federal Authority here as opposed to States Rights. John Ashcroft did not approve of the law in Oregon and his successors are challenging the ruling which blocked Ashcroft's directive regarding prescribing drugs. This will be a nice test to see whether Roberts is a conservative flunky or a man worthy of his robes.
As a man who has admitted to assisting in the peticide of a beloved cat to end it's suffering, I think you know how I stand on this issue. In fact, I would gladly have authorized the forcible taking of John Ashcroft's kidneys if it would have kept my cat healthy.)
The grandkids haven't noticed yet that one of the cats is not among us. (It is not unusual for the cats to hide from the little boys for days on end). But one of these days one of them is going to ask. And, I suppose we will have to tell them the upsetting news: The Red Sox are losers!
10/02/2005
Micromanagement 101
I get a lot of mail here at the old Hellhole asking me that age-old question: "Do you work at my company?"
The answer is blowin in the wind, my friends. The answer is blowin in the wind.
Many of you are experiencing the agony of employment under a "leadership" team composed of insecure, smart people. Being smart can be a huge liability to someone whose ambition is greater than their management skills. Strangely enough, smart people are not necessarily perceptive when it comes to human motivation. They believe that everyone is either ambitious like themselves OR they are dumb.
The best managers are not geniuses. They start out as ordinary folks who realize that you can get a lot of stuff done if you can articulate a goal and then get out of the way to let your team members do their jobs. They ask for a status report every two weeks. Their main form of questioning is "How can I help you?" instead of "How long is that gonna take?"
Good managers are organized; and they are able to show other how to be organized. (For the record, this was my biggest personal flaw as a manager. I am congenitally disorganized and like it that way.)
Good managers have a sense of urgency plus a personal style that gets others to share the desire to get things done on time. (Another failing of mine. I was born without a sense of urgency, and deadline is a word that I find annoying rather than challenging)
Good managers recognize that not everyone is motivated by the same things. Most of us are still emotionally retarded and desperately seek some evidence that someone somewhere appreciates what we are doing. However, a lot of us are perfectly happy with the anonymity of a large bureaucracy and can reamain happy malingering indefinitely while waiting for our pensions to kick-in.
I recall a quote from WWII General George S. Patton, which distills all relevent management theory in a single sentence. Patton said "Every man needs a pat on the back every now and then; some men need it high, other men need it low." He was a genius.
Unfortunately, those smart, insecure people that have risen to "leadership" positions in your company are just victims of the Peter Principle. This means that they probably got promoted from a job where they really were competent into a job where they suck. They are trapped.
In their hearts, they may suspect that they suck in the new job , but cannot accept the possibility that everyone else might share that opinion - especially those higher up in the food chain. So, they work harder. Hard work always made them successful in the past, before they got into management.
So, they become hapless workaholics. Micromanagers delude themselves into the belief that they must be the best brave to earn the title of Chief. They need to know more than everyone else. Everything that happens must be their idea. They come to assume that everyone on their team is sitting around, waiting to be told what to do next.
For those of us who are mature, competent workers, micromanagers suck all the joy and sense of accomplishment out of working. We become seduced into following the easy path of going along, letting the boss have his way without resistance. We end-up as mere followers-of-orders, eroding our own self-esteem, doing exactly what we are told, assuming no ownership, no sense of responsibility and no loyalty to the job at hand.
Eventually, most Micromanagers will burn themselves out, or - if they are lucky - smarten up before they crash and burn. However that damage they do to their organizations and subordinates echoes for a long time.
9/14/2005
Like A Box of Chocolates
One of the wags on our team has characterized the new system as "Gumped." He says that the database is like a box of chocolates because you never know what you are gonna get (when you compose an sql query).
Clearly, the architects of this database were recruited from a madhouse. Virtually none of the database design team speaks English without a pronounced accent. If you talk about business rules, they adopt an expressionless demeaner and firmly insist on telling you how the system process the data with a strong implication that you are wasting their time with your silly questions. Eventually, they give in and research your question. At least half the time they end-up changing something in the code. Hah.
I am reading a lot of copy that sings praises to Oracle for trying to consolidate all the competition by buying them. Smart move, I guess. The pundits must know.
All I know is that the Oracle ERP applications are a rat's nest of 5th normal form database design. Theoretically elegant; yet it practice - unusable. The relationships in this database are a puzzle that no one I know has solved. No one can produce an up-to-date Data model that shows how things actually work together. We actually have to reverse engineer the data to come up with a working data dictionary.
I am convinced that the whole ERP industry is nothing more than a huge lobby. They don't manufacture software, they bribe, then intimidate CIO's to get on board with these expensive systems that don't do half of what the systems they are replacing do. How do they get away with it? These young folks seem smart, but unfortunately they have never seen how efficient and usable the pre-ERP world was.
So what if I sound like an old fart. No one listened to me when I was a young fart either. No one wants to hear that the Emperor is wearing only a smile, and lordy no one wants to be the one to tell him.
Clearly, the architects of this database were recruited from a madhouse. Virtually none of the database design team speaks English without a pronounced accent. If you talk about business rules, they adopt an expressionless demeaner and firmly insist on telling you how the system process the data with a strong implication that you are wasting their time with your silly questions. Eventually, they give in and research your question. At least half the time they end-up changing something in the code. Hah.
I am reading a lot of copy that sings praises to Oracle for trying to consolidate all the competition by buying them. Smart move, I guess. The pundits must know.
All I know is that the Oracle ERP applications are a rat's nest of 5th normal form database design. Theoretically elegant; yet it practice - unusable. The relationships in this database are a puzzle that no one I know has solved. No one can produce an up-to-date Data model that shows how things actually work together. We actually have to reverse engineer the data to come up with a working data dictionary.
I am convinced that the whole ERP industry is nothing more than a huge lobby. They don't manufacture software, they bribe, then intimidate CIO's to get on board with these expensive systems that don't do half of what the systems they are replacing do. How do they get away with it? These young folks seem smart, but unfortunately they have never seen how efficient and usable the pre-ERP world was.
So what if I sound like an old fart. No one listened to me when I was a young fart either. No one wants to hear that the Emperor is wearing only a smile, and lordy no one wants to be the one to tell him.
9/07/2005
Talk About Hellholes
Our project has solidly entered the phase of the SDLC that I call "finger-pointing." This is more-or-less a sophisticated variant of musical chairs. Some poor sucker who failed to protect their nether regions from culpability with wads of CYA documentation is usually attacked at one of the daily status/issues meeting.
Here are some of the phrases that signal the advent of you being selected as the cause of all problems:
"How come this issue was not raised before?"
"When did you get in this morning?
"This is all your fault!"
Your phone rings. Caller ID reads Conference Room 3344 -where they are having a perpetual status meeting. Your boss says, "Got a minute?"
No Worries - No one is bothering me these days. Perhaps I have learned something from my tedious career in IT. My actions and intentions have all been documented and recorded in the master documentation portal. I am able to anticipate every micromanaging inquiry (or accusation) and spend the first working hour of each day documenting my status. It does not matter that progress is glacial as long as you can identify the real culprit (generally the hapless user who did not return your phone call.) My daily memoes are like a porcupine's quills, or a skunk's sphincter - the micromanaging nitpickers move on to more unprotected flesh.
The real suffering is experienced by less mature team members who think that they can actually make a difference by working harder. In their zeal to show how dedicated they are, these poor sukkas stay late, come-in early and offer to give up their weekends to "make it happen."
The good news for all of us is that it is almost over. Most of the senior IT management is resigned to the net disappointment of yet another puzzling failed opus. They have started to plan the victory celebration or perhaps they are distracted by thoughts that maybe their next gig will be successful. Most of them will be moving on to other locations and clients instead of being fired (as they would if there was any justice). It is only the micro managing ankle biters are still working 12 hours a day trying to assess which of the victims of supervisory incompetence is to blame. The client project team is either clueless or cleverly taking the stance that everything is super freaking great. Perception is reality, they say.
Sooner or later some one is going to ask a critical business question and then the sky will fall. Hard. Category five. Hey, I am just thankful that my project is not in New Orleans.
Here are some of the phrases that signal the advent of you being selected as the cause of all problems:
"How come this issue was not raised before?"
"When did you get in this morning?
"This is all your fault!"
Your phone rings. Caller ID reads Conference Room 3344 -where they are having a perpetual status meeting. Your boss says, "Got a minute?"
No Worries - No one is bothering me these days. Perhaps I have learned something from my tedious career in IT. My actions and intentions have all been documented and recorded in the master documentation portal. I am able to anticipate every micromanaging inquiry (or accusation) and spend the first working hour of each day documenting my status. It does not matter that progress is glacial as long as you can identify the real culprit (generally the hapless user who did not return your phone call.) My daily memoes are like a porcupine's quills, or a skunk's sphincter - the micromanaging nitpickers move on to more unprotected flesh.
The real suffering is experienced by less mature team members who think that they can actually make a difference by working harder. In their zeal to show how dedicated they are, these poor sukkas stay late, come-in early and offer to give up their weekends to "make it happen."
The good news for all of us is that it is almost over. Most of the senior IT management is resigned to the net disappointment of yet another puzzling failed opus. They have started to plan the victory celebration or perhaps they are distracted by thoughts that maybe their next gig will be successful. Most of them will be moving on to other locations and clients instead of being fired (as they would if there was any justice). It is only the micro managing ankle biters are still working 12 hours a day trying to assess which of the victims of supervisory incompetence is to blame. The client project team is either clueless or cleverly taking the stance that everything is super freaking great. Perception is reality, they say.
Sooner or later some one is going to ask a critical business question and then the sky will fall. Hard. Category five. Hey, I am just thankful that my project is not in New Orleans.
8/28/2005
Harvest Lessons
What the heck happened to Summer?
Just a few weeks ago we were pining for Autumn, wondering when the monotonous sweltering, muggy weather would end. Now, in the mornings there is a crisp cool breeze and the distant scent of apples and squash ripening in the fields and orchards. And the echo of a bucket of golf balls being thwacked out at the driving range.
On TV guys in football helmets and shirts are performing the exhibition thay call pre-season. Viewers call it "Where the hell is the remote?" No sane person has the time or inclination to waste watching practice games with no meaning or importance except to the purveyers of automobiles, beer and boner juice.
The tomato garden is lush with healthy greenery and pinkish promise. I pick anything that shows any signs of ripening (in my ongoing competition with the squirrels, who have such a keen taste for the ripe Jet Star tomatoes, that they will climb the vines to get the high-hanging ripe fruit.) I planted extra vines this year, to allow for the inevitable shrinkage. Still, I pick anything that is blushing and let them ripen on the counter. It only takes three days from pink to slicing in the salad, which is why you cannot get this variety in the supermarkets.
The cooler nights are nature's signal to vegetation that Winter is nigh, and so the tomatoes and the marilgolds get very busy with seed production and less busy with stem growth. Tomatoes turn red and the flowers rush to bloom. I keep the Marigolds blooming until frost by deadheading the faded blooms which encourages them to produce more flower heads.
I have been forced to hand-water the garden nearly all Summer. We are as dry as a Jack Benny Martini here. We have had virtually no useful rain for most of the Summer. The muggy weather usually generates thunderstoms, but this year, the storms have been scattered and drenching. Most of the heavy rainwater has run-off to lower ground. We have had precious few gentle soaking rainshowers in the past 3-4 months. One of the weather gals says we are 6 inches below normal. Good news for gardeners, the forecast is for rain every day next week. We need it. Gentle soaking rain, unstrained, like the quality of mercy.
I have been pretty busy lately. Apologies to those of you who count upon this journal to provide a perspective on your working lives. But, my own paid labors have been occupying an inordinate amount of my time. You understand.
In the next entry I shall bring you up to date with the current hellhole project and the unpredictable events that occure, like lightning and thunder, not out of the blue, but out of the gray.
Just a few weeks ago we were pining for Autumn, wondering when the monotonous sweltering, muggy weather would end. Now, in the mornings there is a crisp cool breeze and the distant scent of apples and squash ripening in the fields and orchards. And the echo of a bucket of golf balls being thwacked out at the driving range.
On TV guys in football helmets and shirts are performing the exhibition thay call pre-season. Viewers call it "Where the hell is the remote?" No sane person has the time or inclination to waste watching practice games with no meaning or importance except to the purveyers of automobiles, beer and boner juice.
The tomato garden is lush with healthy greenery and pinkish promise. I pick anything that shows any signs of ripening (in my ongoing competition with the squirrels, who have such a keen taste for the ripe Jet Star tomatoes, that they will climb the vines to get the high-hanging ripe fruit.) I planted extra vines this year, to allow for the inevitable shrinkage. Still, I pick anything that is blushing and let them ripen on the counter. It only takes three days from pink to slicing in the salad, which is why you cannot get this variety in the supermarkets.
The cooler nights are nature's signal to vegetation that Winter is nigh, and so the tomatoes and the marilgolds get very busy with seed production and less busy with stem growth. Tomatoes turn red and the flowers rush to bloom. I keep the Marigolds blooming until frost by deadheading the faded blooms which encourages them to produce more flower heads.
I have been forced to hand-water the garden nearly all Summer. We are as dry as a Jack Benny Martini here. We have had virtually no useful rain for most of the Summer. The muggy weather usually generates thunderstoms, but this year, the storms have been scattered and drenching. Most of the heavy rainwater has run-off to lower ground. We have had precious few gentle soaking rainshowers in the past 3-4 months. One of the weather gals says we are 6 inches below normal. Good news for gardeners, the forecast is for rain every day next week. We need it. Gentle soaking rain, unstrained, like the quality of mercy.
I have been pretty busy lately. Apologies to those of you who count upon this journal to provide a perspective on your working lives. But, my own paid labors have been occupying an inordinate amount of my time. You understand.
In the next entry I shall bring you up to date with the current hellhole project and the unpredictable events that occure, like lightning and thunder, not out of the blue, but out of the gray.
8/11/2005
What goes up comes around
While most people were hoping to see another spectacular video clip of disintegrating astronauts, I was glad to see them get back safely. Thanks to our crack news organizations, the possibility of disaster was explored, in depth, live and in color by vitually all the news media except those devoted to the riviting coverage of a missing white girl in Aruba.
In the end it seems like the billions spent for this ten day ride are a success. Strangely enough that is how my current project is being hailed.
What, you ask, the famous fubar project from hell? A success, you say?
Yes, that is what I said. Moreover, we had a wine and cheese party to celebrate it. I went, of course. Pappy told me "Son, if someone offers you free food and drink don't spoil the party by not showing up." This has been the guiding strategy of my entire career.
And there is a hint of a bigger more lavish celebration in the works. You can imagine that I felt like some one who has accidentilly stumbled into The Mad Hatter's tea party. The users were smiling and drinking heavily. No one talked about "The Emperor's New Clothes" nor did I hear any references to Titanic or other disaster metaphors.
It sounded like everyone was happy about the new implementation. No mention of the unix os running out of process agents. Or views that taking two hours of running time. Some of the actual operational users were screaming about how the system was interfering with their productivity. These cretins were not present at the party - perhaps they were still catching up on their work. Whatever. None of us who were there, sucking down the free food and drinks, really wanted those nattering naybobs ruining the positive aura that had been so carefully architected.
I decided that my previous judgements were in error. This truly was the best project implementation ever! It was in a flash of insight that I realized how faulty my definition of success had beem in the past. I had thought that there must be an absolute measure of success.
But the scales dropped from my eyes.
I now saw that success is nothing more than the shared perception of the people with the budget to throw celebration parties. I can live with that.
In the end it seems like the billions spent for this ten day ride are a success. Strangely enough that is how my current project is being hailed.
What, you ask, the famous fubar project from hell? A success, you say?
Yes, that is what I said. Moreover, we had a wine and cheese party to celebrate it. I went, of course. Pappy told me "Son, if someone offers you free food and drink don't spoil the party by not showing up." This has been the guiding strategy of my entire career.
And there is a hint of a bigger more lavish celebration in the works. You can imagine that I felt like some one who has accidentilly stumbled into The Mad Hatter's tea party. The users were smiling and drinking heavily. No one talked about "The Emperor's New Clothes" nor did I hear any references to Titanic or other disaster metaphors.
It sounded like everyone was happy about the new implementation. No mention of the unix os running out of process agents. Or views that taking two hours of running time. Some of the actual operational users were screaming about how the system was interfering with their productivity. These cretins were not present at the party - perhaps they were still catching up on their work. Whatever. None of us who were there, sucking down the free food and drinks, really wanted those nattering naybobs ruining the positive aura that had been so carefully architected.
I decided that my previous judgements were in error. This truly was the best project implementation ever! It was in a flash of insight that I realized how faulty my definition of success had beem in the past. I had thought that there must be an absolute measure of success.
But the scales dropped from my eyes.
I now saw that success is nothing more than the shared perception of the people with the budget to throw celebration parties. I can live with that.
7/26/2005
Airborne
I have to tell you that I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard that the Discovery launch went smoothly. Whenever I talk about my project I have been using disaster metaphors .
Titanic was once my favorite because you could talk about management re-arranging deck chairs, while icy ocean poured into the gaping holes in the hull of the ship..
Then it was Challenger - the doomed space launch where the Managers got everyone focused on Launch and not enough people focused on Stay-in-the-air.
So it was good to think that a project did not necessarily have to be doomed. I was beginning to wonder...
Things are going well at the current hellhole - for me at least. By the way, did I mention that this outfit has not been recognized as one of the 100 best places to work in America? Yah, they barely missed getting on the list - probably because of the physical and emotional abuse which the Managers call "Leadership."
The onus is on the venerable development group to put some lipstick on this pig and try to fool the users with blinking message boxes and quixotic error messages. It will probably work, since the users are dolts of the first order. Otherwise they would have yanked the feeding tube on this pigarama years ago. By the way, remember the old Business School saw about teaching a pig to sing? I heard a new one the other day that resonates: "Do not wrestle with a pig. You will get covered in shit; and the pig Likes it."
Titanic was once my favorite because you could talk about management re-arranging deck chairs, while icy ocean poured into the gaping holes in the hull of the ship..
Then it was Challenger - the doomed space launch where the Managers got everyone focused on Launch and not enough people focused on Stay-in-the-air.
So it was good to think that a project did not necessarily have to be doomed. I was beginning to wonder...
Things are going well at the current hellhole - for me at least. By the way, did I mention that this outfit has not been recognized as one of the 100 best places to work in America? Yah, they barely missed getting on the list - probably because of the physical and emotional abuse which the Managers call "Leadership."
The onus is on the venerable development group to put some lipstick on this pig and try to fool the users with blinking message boxes and quixotic error messages. It will probably work, since the users are dolts of the first order. Otherwise they would have yanked the feeding tube on this pigarama years ago. By the way, remember the old Business School saw about teaching a pig to sing? I heard a new one the other day that resonates: "Do not wrestle with a pig. You will get covered in shit; and the pig Likes it."
7/18/2005
How to tell if your Project is FUBAR
Many readers write to the HH mailbag asking how to tell when the project you are working on is FUBAR. We at the Hellhole Center for Project Recognition have done some pretty f-ing amazing research. We looked at some notes we had copied a few years ago and came up with this list.
1. The database is either PeopleSoft or Oracle.
1. The database is either PeopleSoft or Oracle.
2. The green-card DBA's keep looking at you like you are some senile old bastard who doesn't get database structure.
3. Your Blog begins to hint that the project may be headed for a big granite wall called reality.
4. The users agree with everything you say, but you can tell that they are hiding something important.
5. There is a wine and cheese party scheduled for the week after "go Live".
6. The Project leadership hires a new analyst nine (9) work days before "Go Live" to replace the Analyst nwho started 3 weeks after you and then quit, citing "too much chaos." The replacement was supposed to start this morning, but called in with "car trouble."
7 There were two (false) fire alarms pulled in the building today. (No, it was not me)
8. Micro-Management complains that team members do not escalate issues soon enough. When you raise an issue that seems like a management concern, they call for marathon meetings to assess who knew what and when did they know it. You are eventually scolded for not raising the issue last year - even though you only started 2 months ago.
9. You personally could give a fiddlers fart whether the project succeeds or not. You have no ego-involvement in the outcome. (The weekly paychecks have cleared amiably.) The work is interesting even though the project has as much chance at success as a band of nude gay jugglers in Pakistan.
10. Everyone you need to talk to is on vacation, or too busy to talk to you. You find yourself documenting every elevator conversation and phone call, just in case you need to show how busy you have been.
11. You longingly remember how nice the garden looked before you went back to this dumb job.
7/07/2005
Get the succa off the ground
OK. Some of you have guessed it . I have found yet another Hellhole to add to my resume. Sometimes I wonder: are they all hellholes? Is there any successful organization that is run by smart leaders implementing intelligent policies? Is there any enterprise anywhere that is not characterized by the military acronym FUBAR*?
I certainly have not met such a place if there is one.
This time, however, it is different for me. In the old days, when I was an employee, I was what they call invested in the success of my organization. The more invested I was, the more unbearable it was to work for an outfit where the ego-centric bloviation from upper management hung in the air like acrid cordite just after a July 4th fireworks finale.
Nowadays, I just shake my head and think about how glad I am to be getting paid for half of what I would be accomplishing if I was not being micromanaged or being constantly harangued about status.
Today, I was told by said MM that he needed to go to a daily status report on status to some status review committee every morning until go live. Was anything new? I had to chuckle (to myself)
"You had a status meeting yesterday at 4pm."
"Yes, So have you got any updates?"
"Yeah, I had a great bowel movement today, and three cups of coffee."
"Haven't you got something I can tell the committee?"
"Yes, Tell them we are doomed."
"Cut the crap, I need some progress!"
"OK" I gave in and told him what I was working on. Finally he left - looking harried and frightened.
How come there are so few workers and so many management types? They outnumber us. It would not be so bad if they would just leave you alone, and take credit for your work, but they are so out of touch that they would schedule all day meetings to determine if anything is slipping through the cracks. They definitely are not planning to take blame for your failure. They are very good at the CYA game. That is why you are not one of them.
Status meetings are a "must attend" priority. No thought is given to the fact that the thing that is slipping is real work. And it isn't a crack, it is a chasm which was created by management keeping people locked-up in meetings instead of letting them get the work done.
I am reminded of what it must have been like to be on the launch team just before the doomed Challenger space shuttle launch. No one wanted to tell the Launch manager about the O-ring flaw.
Everyone was focused on launch. No one on the launch team had the job of keeping it in the air.
I certainly have not met such a place if there is one.
This time, however, it is different for me. In the old days, when I was an employee, I was what they call invested in the success of my organization. The more invested I was, the more unbearable it was to work for an outfit where the ego-centric bloviation from upper management hung in the air like acrid cordite just after a July 4th fireworks finale.
Nowadays, I just shake my head and think about how glad I am to be getting paid for half of what I would be accomplishing if I was not being micromanaged or being constantly harangued about status.
Today, I was told by said MM that he needed to go to a daily status report on status to some status review committee every morning until go live. Was anything new? I had to chuckle (to myself)
"You had a status meeting yesterday at 4pm."
"Yes, So have you got any updates?"
"Yeah, I had a great bowel movement today, and three cups of coffee."
"Haven't you got something I can tell the committee?"
"Yes, Tell them we are doomed."
"Cut the crap, I need some progress!"
"OK" I gave in and told him what I was working on. Finally he left - looking harried and frightened.
How come there are so few workers and so many management types? They outnumber us. It would not be so bad if they would just leave you alone, and take credit for your work, but they are so out of touch that they would schedule all day meetings to determine if anything is slipping through the cracks. They definitely are not planning to take blame for your failure. They are very good at the CYA game. That is why you are not one of them.
Status meetings are a "must attend" priority. No thought is given to the fact that the thing that is slipping is real work. And it isn't a crack, it is a chasm which was created by management keeping people locked-up in meetings instead of letting them get the work done.
I am reminded of what it must have been like to be on the launch team just before the doomed Challenger space shuttle launch. No one wanted to tell the Launch manager about the O-ring flaw.
Everyone was focused on launch. No one on the launch team had the job of keeping it in the air.
6/30/2005
HHU Exams
A lot of fans have been writing to the Hellhole mailbox asking to know how they can identify when their own workplace is a hellhole or how they can identify the signs of an impending hellhole. As usual, I have figured all this stuff out and have devised a nifty test to assist my loyal hellhole readers and others who may crave guidance.
The answers are Multiple Choice
Q: How can you tell that you work at a Hellhole?
1) At Lunch, you say to your coworkers, "This is an interesting project." They look at each other knowingly and start to laugh, like you are the most naïve shit who ever showed up at this fucked-up organization.
2) Within a few weeks of starting work, your boss's boss calls you confidentially to offer you your boss's job. He is looking for a micromanager to be more of a hardass with the other team members; you decline, citing your incompetence as a supervisor, but privately you wonder why he just will not get out of the way and let the guys do their jobs.
3) At meetings, you hear Management types talk about people as if they were lawnmowers. Start em up and start cutting the grass. Cripes, How hard can iot be o develop a working business application on the web?
4) None of the smart babes wear make-up, because they know this intimidates men. (Or maybe they are lesbians. Who can tell?)
5) All the green card contractors call you "Sir." Even though you insist that you are lowly pond scum, just like they are.
6) The commute typically robs between 1 and 2 hours of your day (and life) roundtrip. Not to mention the gas. Plus the costs of automotive fuel. :)
3) The deadline for "go-live" is less than 30 days away and management is occupying important conference room space in heavy-duty meetings devising a project plan.
7) Your management hierarchy becomes very visible as they attend every piddling issue meeting but spend most of the time in the hall on their cell phone just outside of the conference room ensuring that you cannot escape. Their message: How can I help you? Why can't you handle it? Faster,
8) The meetings become so intense that there is not time to take a lunch break, so you have to grab a sandwich and eat it during the meeting and go to the bathroom only if you must.
9) You cannot help thinking about the Challenger Disaster where the only goal for the project team was launch. (The successful return of the crew was another team's responsibility. ) You probably thought that everyone knew this was a bad way to manage projects that could be unstable after they "get off the ground".
10) You start having those Titanic dreams again.
11) All of the above.
Ok Turn in your Blue Books Now
The answers are Multiple Choice
Q: How can you tell that you work at a Hellhole?
1) At Lunch, you say to your coworkers, "This is an interesting project." They look at each other knowingly and start to laugh, like you are the most naïve shit who ever showed up at this fucked-up organization.
2) Within a few weeks of starting work, your boss's boss calls you confidentially to offer you your boss's job. He is looking for a micromanager to be more of a hardass with the other team members; you decline, citing your incompetence as a supervisor, but privately you wonder why he just will not get out of the way and let the guys do their jobs.
3) At meetings, you hear Management types talk about people as if they were lawnmowers. Start em up and start cutting the grass. Cripes, How hard can iot be o develop a working business application on the web?
4) None of the smart babes wear make-up, because they know this intimidates men. (Or maybe they are lesbians. Who can tell?)
5) All the green card contractors call you "Sir." Even though you insist that you are lowly pond scum, just like they are.
6) The commute typically robs between 1 and 2 hours of your day (and life) roundtrip. Not to mention the gas. Plus the costs of automotive fuel. :)
3) The deadline for "go-live" is less than 30 days away and management is occupying important conference room space in heavy-duty meetings devising a project plan.
7) Your management hierarchy becomes very visible as they attend every piddling issue meeting but spend most of the time in the hall on their cell phone just outside of the conference room ensuring that you cannot escape. Their message: How can I help you? Why can't you handle it? Faster,
8) The meetings become so intense that there is not time to take a lunch break, so you have to grab a sandwich and eat it during the meeting and go to the bathroom only if you must.
9) You cannot help thinking about the Challenger Disaster where the only goal for the project team was launch. (The successful return of the crew was another team's responsibility. ) You probably thought that everyone knew this was a bad way to manage projects that could be unstable after they "get off the ground".
10) You start having those Titanic dreams again.
11) All of the above.
Ok Turn in your Blue Books Now
6/26/2005
Heat Wave
I am beginning to realize why there is so much social unrest in hot climates. The heat and humidity gnaws at your equanimity. After a few days of unremitting 90 degree temperatures during the days and nights of sleep depriving discomfort, the usual insulating layer of patience and understanding is worn away, exposing a raw irritated nub of anger which spews out in all directions. This is why places like Haiti and Iran, Florida and Mexico are dysfunctional - especially in the summer.
I have taken to getting up before 6am and getting all my activities in while the air is still relatively cool. Then like an ant, at mid-day, I withdraw to the coolest corners of the nest to nap or read. I don't write much anymore. In fact if it was not for updates to this blog, my writing output would be nil.
I guess I have given up the fantasy that some day my extraordiary talents would be discovered by some rich editorial syndicate and that I would become the next Andy Rooney or Dave Barry. No, this is not to be. And I am ok with that. Fame is a sharp two-edged sword. I had enough celebrity back in the 90's when I was writing small vignettes for the local newspaper on a regular basis as a "Guest Columnist". People seemed to like my light humorous pieces lampooning the foibles of my fellow citizens. People would stop me in the supermarket to express agreement with a pithy point I had made. They would print almost anything I submitted, virtually un-edited. But when I suggested that I would be more prolific if I was getting Paid, they were decidedly uninterested in such an arrangement. I eventually decided to stop writing for free and went back to work as a systems analyst - which no one would expect you to do and not get charged for your time.
I am less than a week away from my 63rd birthday. ( Please, no presents - I already have pretty much everything I want or need that costs less than $10,000. ) I only mention it because my age has a lot to do with the attenuation of my writing ambitions these days.
My father died when he was age 65. None of his four brothers made it to their 66th year either. So, you can imagine that I have lived most of my life, thinking that men in my family die at around age 65 - except for the ones who got hanged for stealing horses.
Now that I am approaching that age, I am trying hard to revise my fatalistic thinking. Several males of my generation (older cousins) have successfully reached the 70 year mark in relatively good health. ( although full disclosure requires that I mention that cousin Barry suddenly dropped dead of a heart attack at 65 a few years ago.)
All my life, I have had a feeling that I was charmed in some way. You know, I was meant for something big and important. Call it ego or hubris, you are probably right. The point is that I have passed a lot of time (and Gas!) waiting for something to happen. Not making things happen. I always thought that if there was a Creator then he probably had some special purpose for me. Now, after six decades, I have concluded that if there is a Creator then he must like assholes, because he sure made a lot of them.
My goals for the rest of this life is not to be included in that count.
I have taken to getting up before 6am and getting all my activities in while the air is still relatively cool. Then like an ant, at mid-day, I withdraw to the coolest corners of the nest to nap or read. I don't write much anymore. In fact if it was not for updates to this blog, my writing output would be nil.
I guess I have given up the fantasy that some day my extraordiary talents would be discovered by some rich editorial syndicate and that I would become the next Andy Rooney or Dave Barry. No, this is not to be. And I am ok with that. Fame is a sharp two-edged sword. I had enough celebrity back in the 90's when I was writing small vignettes for the local newspaper on a regular basis as a "Guest Columnist". People seemed to like my light humorous pieces lampooning the foibles of my fellow citizens. People would stop me in the supermarket to express agreement with a pithy point I had made. They would print almost anything I submitted, virtually un-edited. But when I suggested that I would be more prolific if I was getting Paid, they were decidedly uninterested in such an arrangement. I eventually decided to stop writing for free and went back to work as a systems analyst - which no one would expect you to do and not get charged for your time.
I am less than a week away from my 63rd birthday. ( Please, no presents - I already have pretty much everything I want or need that costs less than $10,000. ) I only mention it because my age has a lot to do with the attenuation of my writing ambitions these days.
My father died when he was age 65. None of his four brothers made it to their 66th year either. So, you can imagine that I have lived most of my life, thinking that men in my family die at around age 65 - except for the ones who got hanged for stealing horses.
Now that I am approaching that age, I am trying hard to revise my fatalistic thinking. Several males of my generation (older cousins) have successfully reached the 70 year mark in relatively good health. ( although full disclosure requires that I mention that cousin Barry suddenly dropped dead of a heart attack at 65 a few years ago.)
All my life, I have had a feeling that I was charmed in some way. You know, I was meant for something big and important. Call it ego or hubris, you are probably right. The point is that I have passed a lot of time (and Gas!) waiting for something to happen. Not making things happen. I always thought that if there was a Creator then he probably had some special purpose for me. Now, after six decades, I have concluded that if there is a Creator then he must like assholes, because he sure made a lot of them.
My goals for the rest of this life is not to be included in that count.
6/16/2005
The Commute must be getting to me
As I have mentioned - however briefly - the worst thing about going back to a full-time gig is the commute. I am way beyond my comfort zone, driving 20 miles twice a day, It would be OK if I could count on a half-hour or less in traffic. But, it typically takes 45 to 60 minutes. depending on the density of the traffic for me to make the trek home? . It can be maddening.
So I have started passing the time by thinking about important issues:
What would I do if I was diagnosed with ALS?
What if I won $200 Million in the megabucks lottery.
What ever happened to Gary Larson - the Far side guy?
Tonight as I was dirving home I started wondering what preceded tha big bang. I mean what was it like? And why did it go Bang? I am unencumbered by a rigorous scientific education, so it is very easy for me to dismiss the Big Bang theory as pure unproven speculation. Scienctific explanatoin has been off-the-mark for most of the entirety of history of science, so we need not fret too much if we find a theory far-fetched. The future will prove current scientific prounouncements the same way we denigrate the superstitions and beliefs of primitive cultures.
So, What os on the other side of the end of the unverse? Huh?
So I have started passing the time by thinking about important issues:
What would I do if I was diagnosed with ALS?
What if I won $200 Million in the megabucks lottery.
What ever happened to Gary Larson - the Far side guy?
Tonight as I was dirving home I started wondering what preceded tha big bang. I mean what was it like? And why did it go Bang? I am unencumbered by a rigorous scientific education, so it is very easy for me to dismiss the Big Bang theory as pure unproven speculation. Scienctific explanatoin has been off-the-mark for most of the entirety of history of science, so we need not fret too much if we find a theory far-fetched. The future will prove current scientific prounouncements the same way we denigrate the superstitions and beliefs of primitive cultures.
So, What os on the other side of the end of the unverse? Huh?
6/12/2005
Lessons
There was an article in the Globe today, purporting to advise people who were contemplating returning to work after a long layoff. Clearly, it was an article written by a journalist, not someone who actually had the experience.
It gave "helpful" suggestions for people who have been on the beach maybe a bit too long - like "Don't wear flip-flops to work" and "You can't burp any time you feel like it anymore" and "Don't nap during staff meetings."
I learned that lesson the hard way, at one of my jobs. The CIO was annoyed with me dropping off during his impassioned quarterly motivational monologue that he moved my name to the top of the deadwood layoff list. It wasn't really fair. I had come into the office uncharacteristically early that morning to test some software modifications; I had not had any coffee yet, and the CIO was mouthing the same old inanitites. Yes, I dozed off.
A polite CIO would have simply let the thing go, but this guy had an ego bigger than Nebraska.
So, when the layoff came, I surfed-out of there on the first wave.
This time I am smarter. Now I am a contractor, so I don't have to go to staff meetings.
These days, the trick to not get caught dozing at my desk. I am working on that. Honestly.
If I was writing a piece about going back to work after a long layoff it would offer some really helpful tips:
1) Do not assume that the person you are talking to knows more than you do, even though you are new and don't know anything about the organization or the application. Many of the people I have been referred to for answers know next to nothing., but are apparently unaware of that fact. I have spent a lot of time chasing the elusive butterfly of fact. And, I might add, getting paid for every fruitless minute of the quest. No one else seems to mind, and I don't either.
2) Do not eat at your desk. This is tempting, since many of the geeks with whom you work do not like to sit in the cafeteria with other human beings and have a conversation about anything other than the multi- dimensional array problem in module 3445a.
They sneak down to the lunchroom and get high carb food from the express line and take it back to their cubes without speaking to anyone. Or, worse, they bring last night's Kung Pow chicken from home in a rubbermade container and heat it in the microwave. They like it that way. But studies show that their is more bacteria on the average programmer's keyboard than on the average toilet seat. (I do not know who did the study, but it is intuitively believable.) Personally, I find the odor of reheated leftovers to be nauseating.
Assuming that you are not a geek, you must flee from the noisome miasma of re-heated Asian and Mongolian cuisine that drifts over cube city at lunch time. You have two choices: Go to the Mall or seek-out and cultivate a group of interesting people to go to lunch with. At the cafeteria, do not sit with anyone who is alone at a big table. Research studies show that people who are eating alone have severe personality disorders, which is why no one sits with them. Don't get sucked in by their apparent friendly and inviting demeanor. They are a sink hole of human sadness. Better to go pretend to go back to your cube (but then take your lunch to your car and eat it in the way to the Mall.)
On this topic, you should also not ask the cross-eyed maintenance guy who has only one tooth, "How's it going?" Or he may deftly block your escape with his push broom and wheeled barrel, while telling you about his recent kidney transplant operation. This actually happened to me one morning. Now I use a different route to get to the coffee area.
3. You should prepare for drive time traffic. Commuting is the bane of an otherwise tolerable job. That painful thirty or forty minutes spent in sluggish, if not stopped, traffic sows the seed of frustration and despair in even the most stalwart among us. Now, I am not a good commuter. I hate traffic, waiting and everything associated with sitting in my car trying to be somewhere at the ungodly hour of 9am. Getting home before 6:30 pm is even worse.
My advise here is to find something to entertain yourself while passing the time. Books on CD or tape, favorite tunes, memorize epic poems, checking yourself for ticks, that sort of thing. Some people knit, or learn to play the harmonica, or practice asking the boss for a raise. (These days, the stigma of apparently talking to yourself in the car has been ameliorated by the existence of mobile phones.)
The other thing that helps me during the heavy traffic nightmare is thinking about the things I can buy - now that I have an income again.
It gave "helpful" suggestions for people who have been on the beach maybe a bit too long - like "Don't wear flip-flops to work" and "You can't burp any time you feel like it anymore" and "Don't nap during staff meetings."
I learned that lesson the hard way, at one of my jobs. The CIO was annoyed with me dropping off during his impassioned quarterly motivational monologue that he moved my name to the top of the deadwood layoff list. It wasn't really fair. I had come into the office uncharacteristically early that morning to test some software modifications; I had not had any coffee yet, and the CIO was mouthing the same old inanitites. Yes, I dozed off.
A polite CIO would have simply let the thing go, but this guy had an ego bigger than Nebraska.
So, when the layoff came, I surfed-out of there on the first wave.
This time I am smarter. Now I am a contractor, so I don't have to go to staff meetings.
These days, the trick to not get caught dozing at my desk. I am working on that. Honestly.
If I was writing a piece about going back to work after a long layoff it would offer some really helpful tips:
1) Do not assume that the person you are talking to knows more than you do, even though you are new and don't know anything about the organization or the application. Many of the people I have been referred to for answers know next to nothing., but are apparently unaware of that fact. I have spent a lot of time chasing the elusive butterfly of fact. And, I might add, getting paid for every fruitless minute of the quest. No one else seems to mind, and I don't either.
2) Do not eat at your desk. This is tempting, since many of the geeks with whom you work do not like to sit in the cafeteria with other human beings and have a conversation about anything other than the multi- dimensional array problem in module 3445a.
They sneak down to the lunchroom and get high carb food from the express line and take it back to their cubes without speaking to anyone. Or, worse, they bring last night's Kung Pow chicken from home in a rubbermade container and heat it in the microwave. They like it that way. But studies show that their is more bacteria on the average programmer's keyboard than on the average toilet seat. (I do not know who did the study, but it is intuitively believable.) Personally, I find the odor of reheated leftovers to be nauseating.
Assuming that you are not a geek, you must flee from the noisome miasma of re-heated Asian and Mongolian cuisine that drifts over cube city at lunch time. You have two choices: Go to the Mall or seek-out and cultivate a group of interesting people to go to lunch with. At the cafeteria, do not sit with anyone who is alone at a big table. Research studies show that people who are eating alone have severe personality disorders, which is why no one sits with them. Don't get sucked in by their apparent friendly and inviting demeanor. They are a sink hole of human sadness. Better to go pretend to go back to your cube (but then take your lunch to your car and eat it in the way to the Mall.)
On this topic, you should also not ask the cross-eyed maintenance guy who has only one tooth, "How's it going?" Or he may deftly block your escape with his push broom and wheeled barrel, while telling you about his recent kidney transplant operation. This actually happened to me one morning. Now I use a different route to get to the coffee area.
3. You should prepare for drive time traffic. Commuting is the bane of an otherwise tolerable job. That painful thirty or forty minutes spent in sluggish, if not stopped, traffic sows the seed of frustration and despair in even the most stalwart among us. Now, I am not a good commuter. I hate traffic, waiting and everything associated with sitting in my car trying to be somewhere at the ungodly hour of 9am. Getting home before 6:30 pm is even worse.
My advise here is to find something to entertain yourself while passing the time. Books on CD or tape, favorite tunes, memorize epic poems, checking yourself for ticks, that sort of thing. Some people knit, or learn to play the harmonica, or practice asking the boss for a raise. (These days, the stigma of apparently talking to yourself in the car has been ameliorated by the existence of mobile phones.)
The other thing that helps me during the heavy traffic nightmare is thinking about the things I can buy - now that I have an income again.
6/07/2005
Week 3
My, how the time passes. I know you are wondering - "How is it, back in the grind [of working full time]?" At least that seems to be the main question posed in the thousands of messages posted in the old Hellhole Mailbox. In the interests of full disclosure, the second most pressing question is "Do you want to buy drugs online without a prescription?" Funny, you would think the courts might chase after those internet drug peddlers insteads of trying to refuse dubies to severely sick people who only want a few tokes to releive their chronic pain.
But I digress.
The job is going well, thanks for your interest. So far, there is no evidence of hell-holish conditions: ie, when managers are clueless, micromanaging nitpickers. My role and all aspects of the job are loosly overseen by a blurry team of management specialists - all of whom are way too busy to spend a lot of time worrying about where I am and what I am doing every minute. I got some pretty clear directions and have a reasonable amount of time to deliver results. Can't ask for a better situation and still call it going to work.
The nagging problem (other than the rectal itch thing) is the commute. The location of my office is in a bad place to get to during rush hour. I have been experimenting with staggered hours. So far the schedule I like best is going in arounf 9:30 and coming home around four.
Unfortunately, this is not considered a full time schedule by my peer group. Glad I don't work for them!
But I digress.
The job is going well, thanks for your interest. So far, there is no evidence of hell-holish conditions: ie, when managers are clueless, micromanaging nitpickers. My role and all aspects of the job are loosly overseen by a blurry team of management specialists - all of whom are way too busy to spend a lot of time worrying about where I am and what I am doing every minute. I got some pretty clear directions and have a reasonable amount of time to deliver results. Can't ask for a better situation and still call it going to work.
The nagging problem (other than the rectal itch thing) is the commute. The location of my office is in a bad place to get to during rush hour. I have been experimenting with staggered hours. So far the schedule I like best is going in arounf 9:30 and coming home around four.
Unfortunately, this is not considered a full time schedule by my peer group. Glad I don't work for them!
5/30/2005
The Tomatoes are In
This is the weekend when many Americans do something to remember their lost love ones. A visit to the cemetery, looking through a scrapbook or just sitting on the newly completed screen porch drinking cold Sierra Nevada's thinking about the dearly departed.
Actually, this is my first one (holds up an empty.) Excuse me a second. I'll be right back.
(time passes. He returns with a fresh frosty, and continues typing)
Most of the day was spent in the garden. It was a perfect day. 70 degrees, mostly sunny skies, no wind. I planted two Rhododendron bushes and two dozen tomato plants. And, assorted marigolds.
According to the old Farmers Almanac this is the first planting day of the season for vegetables and flowers that are not "hardy." People who do not garden seem to have a warped sense of how May weather is supposed to be. They complain, "Where is Spring?"
Just because April is a cruel temptress with those lovely warm days, a lot of people are seduced into thinking that Spring will come early this year. Then comes May - the Evil bitch goddess of frigid rains and unending dankness. We, who plant tomatoes, know these harridans well. We know that killer frost can come anytime in May. So, we wait until Memorial day to plant our tomatoes, and we hope to start picking the Early Girls around the third week in July. Then for a glorious month or so, we have fresh homegrown tomatoes for our salads, sauces, salsa, sliced, or just to eat out of your hand, like an apple.
This year, I planted an extra 6 plants. Last year the rodent population squirrels, rabbit and chipmunks was out of control. They nibbled at everything in the garden. More than once I saw squirrels making off with tennis ball sized tomatoes. This year, I will not have the time to guard my little patch with the trusty BB gun, so I just planted more, hoping to offset the losses from varmints. I do not invest all this labor and effort to save money. I is all done in anticipation of the incomparable flavor of home grown tomatoes over store bought.
My mother used to call me "Farmer Brown." I miss her sarcasm and sense of humor. Here's to you, Mom, wherever you are. (Guzzles down the last of the Sierra, then goes inside for a nap.)
Actually, this is my first one (holds up an empty.) Excuse me a second. I'll be right back.
(time passes. He returns with a fresh frosty, and continues typing)
Most of the day was spent in the garden. It was a perfect day. 70 degrees, mostly sunny skies, no wind. I planted two Rhododendron bushes and two dozen tomato plants. And, assorted marigolds.
According to the old Farmers Almanac this is the first planting day of the season for vegetables and flowers that are not "hardy." People who do not garden seem to have a warped sense of how May weather is supposed to be. They complain, "Where is Spring?"
Just because April is a cruel temptress with those lovely warm days, a lot of people are seduced into thinking that Spring will come early this year. Then comes May - the Evil bitch goddess of frigid rains and unending dankness. We, who plant tomatoes, know these harridans well. We know that killer frost can come anytime in May. So, we wait until Memorial day to plant our tomatoes, and we hope to start picking the Early Girls around the third week in July. Then for a glorious month or so, we have fresh homegrown tomatoes for our salads, sauces, salsa, sliced, or just to eat out of your hand, like an apple.
This year, I planted an extra 6 plants. Last year the rodent population squirrels, rabbit and chipmunks was out of control. They nibbled at everything in the garden. More than once I saw squirrels making off with tennis ball sized tomatoes. This year, I will not have the time to guard my little patch with the trusty BB gun, so I just planted more, hoping to offset the losses from varmints. I do not invest all this labor and effort to save money. I is all done in anticipation of the incomparable flavor of home grown tomatoes over store bought.
My mother used to call me "Farmer Brown." I miss her sarcasm and sense of humor. Here's to you, Mom, wherever you are. (Guzzles down the last of the Sierra, then goes inside for a nap.)
5/28/2005
Week One
OK. I made it through the first week of full-time employment without any major issues. Ok, maybe a few, but they are mainly associated with the commuting distance - 20 miles - and , of course the chief complaint is how much this work thing eats into my free time.
Here it is Saturday and I am forced - like so many other working stiffs - to cram all my chores into the Saturday-Sunday routine. I have been accustomed to leisurely doing my dump run on weekday mornings when there is no line, then picking stuff up at the laundry whenever I felt like it. Maybe a stop at the beer store, supermarket and hardware store. All these tasks were done on off-hours. Now, I am not only stuck in the daily commuting grind, but also stuck in the weekend crush to get the chores done. At least I do not have young kids to take to soccer games...
The bright gem in all this is the work itself. Some of you may find enjoyment in doing crossword puzzles or refurbishing old houses,. I suck at these types of activities. But give me a complex data model to figure out, and I am in hog heaven. All week I have been studying Oracle 11 e-Business data models. Next week I will be writing database queries. This is better than being Pope. OK I exaggerate. But honestly, I am happy with the situation. I like the people I am working with, The boss is not a micromanager - in fact, he is very busy and commutes from Arizona or someplace like that. He's only going to be around four days a week and too busy to be delving into my underwear. They actually told me that they wanted experienced people on the project because there is no time to train them how to do things or even to check up on them. :-) . Even the young bright designer boys are glad to have someone there who is willing to go out and find out what the business users are thinking.
Retirement was great, but there is a depressing reality looks back at you from every mirror. You are getting old, it says. I think the reason I feel happy, despite having given-up much of my freedom, is that it makes me feel younger. And now, I can afford Single Malt Scotch. Life is good. And I can do anything for four months.
Here it is Saturday and I am forced - like so many other working stiffs - to cram all my chores into the Saturday-Sunday routine. I have been accustomed to leisurely doing my dump run on weekday mornings when there is no line, then picking stuff up at the laundry whenever I felt like it. Maybe a stop at the beer store, supermarket and hardware store. All these tasks were done on off-hours. Now, I am not only stuck in the daily commuting grind, but also stuck in the weekend crush to get the chores done. At least I do not have young kids to take to soccer games...
The bright gem in all this is the work itself. Some of you may find enjoyment in doing crossword puzzles or refurbishing old houses,. I suck at these types of activities. But give me a complex data model to figure out, and I am in hog heaven. All week I have been studying Oracle 11 e-Business data models. Next week I will be writing database queries. This is better than being Pope. OK I exaggerate. But honestly, I am happy with the situation. I like the people I am working with, The boss is not a micromanager - in fact, he is very busy and commutes from Arizona or someplace like that. He's only going to be around four days a week and too busy to be delving into my underwear. They actually told me that they wanted experienced people on the project because there is no time to train them how to do things or even to check up on them. :-) . Even the young bright designer boys are glad to have someone there who is willing to go out and find out what the business users are thinking.
Retirement was great, but there is a depressing reality looks back at you from every mirror. You are getting old, it says. I think the reason I feel happy, despite having given-up much of my freedom, is that it makes me feel younger. And now, I can afford Single Malt Scotch. Life is good. And I can do anything for four months.
5/21/2005
Doing It For Money
The headline for the feature story in the Business section of the paper today reads "Mass Unemployment Lowest in three Years." There is an accompanying graphic to prove it. I wonder just how they are counting the "unemployed". Once you fall off the unemployment benefit payroll, you are no longer counted in the stats since no one really knows what has become of you. Can't tell if you died or moved away, stopped looking, started your own unsuccessful consulting business, took a part time job, or just started collecting retirement benefits. None of the foregoing activities would include you in the unemployed number. I think they are really reporting that less people are collecting unemployment benefits these days because companies have started hiring back to fill slots that were shed over the past several years.
I can agree that there has been a definite increase in the number of posted jobs with the words "Business" +"Analyst" in the title.
That reminds me, A number of you have asked for more details about the new job. Now, I have started more than a dozen new jobs in my career. Not one of them proved to be the job I expected based upon the interview and discussions that occurred pre-day one. It's not that the hiring parties lied purposefully. No, the fact is, stuff happens that changes everything. I know this. I expect to be surprised. (But, you are saying, How the bleep can you expect to be surprised? Isn't that an Oxymoron?)
Well, let me tell you what I know: I will be working full-time on a four-month contract job as a business systems analyst for a big company that is implementing a new CRM system for a local HMO.
Note that I do not use names in this medium for reasons that are pretty easy to figure out - at least not until they prove themselves to be a hellhole.)
My job is to act as liaison between business users and the technical team, to ensure that the users get the info they want/need out of the new system. Same stuff I have been doing most of my career.
People have said, Hey I thought you're retired. So was George Foreman.
The details of the job will be revealed in due time, as I start the journey at 9am on Monday morning. I'm sure there will be moments of entertainment, pathos, stress and uncertainty - and that's just the commute. The job itself should be an easy thing. And even if it's a Hellhole, it is only for four months. You can put up with anything for 4 months.
I can agree that there has been a definite increase in the number of posted jobs with the words "Business" +"Analyst" in the title.
That reminds me, A number of you have asked for more details about the new job. Now, I have started more than a dozen new jobs in my career. Not one of them proved to be the job I expected based upon the interview and discussions that occurred pre-day one. It's not that the hiring parties lied purposefully. No, the fact is, stuff happens that changes everything. I know this. I expect to be surprised. (But, you are saying, How the bleep can you expect to be surprised? Isn't that an Oxymoron?)
Well, let me tell you what I know: I will be working full-time on a four-month contract job as a business systems analyst for a big company that is implementing a new CRM system for a local HMO.
Note that I do not use names in this medium for reasons that are pretty easy to figure out - at least not until they prove themselves to be a hellhole.)
My job is to act as liaison between business users and the technical team, to ensure that the users get the info they want/need out of the new system. Same stuff I have been doing most of my career.
People have said, Hey I thought you're retired. So was George Foreman.
The details of the job will be revealed in due time, as I start the journey at 9am on Monday morning. I'm sure there will be moments of entertainment, pathos, stress and uncertainty - and that's just the commute. The job itself should be an easy thing. And even if it's a Hellhole, it is only for four months. You can put up with anything for 4 months.
5/17/2005
The End Is Near
The builder just dropped by. He apologized for not returning my numerous voice messages and threatening e-mails, but he has been away on vacation and then jammed with work. He promises him that the screens will be up by Memorial Day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)