That Wasn't So Bad

I just got off the roof after cleaning the gutters. Why is it that, as a kid, you do something scary, and afterwards you think, "That wasn't so bad," and from then on it gets easier every time you do it? Yet, as an adult, you do something scary, and afterwards you think, "Thank God that's over! That was a terrible idea! Never again. Never."

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Cleaning

Well, my girlfriend is doing some "cleaning", and it got me thinking. Cleaning around here is a never-ending process. It seems that her idea of tidy doesn't mesh with mine.

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

My girlfriend's idea of cleaning is a little different. Although her "cleaning" incorporates my "cleaning", she takes it to another level. Cleaning, for her, also entails moving things from places they don't belong. For her, cleaning is organization and reorganization. Very little regard is given to where things should be, rather her entire focus is on where they should not be.

This, perhaps, doesn't seem like a bad idea at first. However, one must ask, "How did these out-of-place things get out of place to begin with?"

When she gets something new she puts it someplace that isn't full. Often there is no objective reason to put it where she puts it at all. The first, and only reason to put things where she puts them is: nothing else was there already. Not only does this make it impossible for me to find things later, at times, she is unable to find them either.

The fact is, many things are out-of-place because no thought has been given to where they should be. In fact, an item is often assigned its "place of belonging" simply by not being moved from that place for a period of time. Similarly, things that are frequently move or used may never acquire a place to call their own.

A Place for Everything

My idea of cleaning is removing dirt, dust, and other transient matter from the surface of a fixed surface. For me there is a definite, permanent underlying organization which requires periodic maintenance.

When I get something new I try to find a place where it belongs. As a rule I try to keep like things together. I try to keep things with sympathetic purposes together. A stapler, for instance, can reasonably be expected to belong on a desk, the TV remote goes on the side table next to the couch where we watch TV, and pasta sauce goes next to pasta.

Netflix and Linux

I'm a big fan of irony, so when I came across this story about Netflix's "Watch Now" player, I couldn't help but laugh. It seemed surprising to my that Netflix would opt for a multimedia platform that would exclude Mac users. I understand that most computer users have Windows PCs, but it is generally acknowledged that Macs are the multimedia PC of choice for just about everyone. The fact that the movie player developed by Roku for Netflix runs Linux suggests that a cross-platform player is possible, so one has to wonder why Netflix hasn't made its "Watch Now" service available to users of non-Win OSs

No Problem, Mon

There are no problems in business anymore. Sure there are "issues", but many of these have "workarounds", so life is good right? I refuse to call a problem an issue. When did "issue" become a euphemism for "problem"? "Workaround" is even worse. When I jokingly belabored the misuse (and overuse) of the words "issue" and "workarounds", to a friend his response was immediate. ""Solutions"!" he said, "Don't forget the "solutions providers"!" The irony, as I pointed out, is that one wouldn't need a solution unless he had a problem. Still, "workaround" seems much, much worse. Instead of solving, addressing, or eliminating a problem, workarounds allow problems to continue. Is anyone else envisioning an ostrich with its head in the sand?

Address It

You aren't going to fix a problem of which you're not aware. If you are aware of a problem, call it a problem right off the bat. Perhaps you can fix it, maybe not, but of one thing you can be sure: problems tend to lead to other problems. Sure, workarounds lead away from problems, but if there's a problem with your initial work, and you don't fix it, there's a good chance that subsequent work is also going to be problematic.

Does Not Compute

During a workplace discussion today it occurred to me just how much the computer landscape has changed over the past 15 years or so. The discussion centered around the efficient creation of content and its transfer from author to distributor to consumer.

As it Should Be

Ideally, all three parties should be able to use any mutually accessible format. That way (assuming the integrity of the transfer medium) there is nothing lost as the data changes hands. In our particular case, however, the medium basically dictates the form in which we distribute our content. Since HTML is the language of the Web, that is the format in which we distribute our content.

Now here is the part where nodding heads and murmurs of encouragement were replaced by expressionless faces and stony silence: It seems reasonable that we should receive our content as HTML. Better yet, XML. XML converts easily to HTML, and as an added bonus it's much more machine friendly than HTML and is practically universally supported.

The Sad Truth

My line of thinking during this argument came down to this: Right now, our workflow puts the onus on people to do a certain amount of work with the assistance of computers. Wouldn't it be more efficient to let a computer do the work? Certainly a person would have to create the content no matter how the information is subsequently handled, but why should a person handle it once it's been created?

15 years ago a computer was a machine that could handle more information faster and more accurately than a person. While this is still true today, it has, ironically, become a rather archaic definition. Computers are now faster, more capacious, and more prevalent than they were 15 years ago, and while they can do more, we're allowing them to do less.

System Management Center

It seems silly to hate a word. Words are, after all, only symbols for the meanings they convey. Of, course, it also seems silly to hate the meanings behind words; meanings and ideas only serve to make our lives richer. That said, there are a few words which have gained a stranglehold in contemporary corporate language, and I am fast learning to hate them all.

Any Place

Manage. System. Center. You can't seem to take two steps in the corporate world without tripping over one or more of these words. The word center, in particular, has gotten incredible mileage. I can't help it. I see "center" and wonder: center of what?

There was a time (I think) when "center" was a place that was of great importance (central!) to the accomplishment of some activity. Gradually the term has been watered down to the point where it really just means "place". If you don't believe me, just look at all the gymnasiums and ballparks that are being called "fitness centers and "rec centers".

A Collection of One

I suppose one could define "system" as an entity comprised of a number of coordinated parts. The definition is nothing if not vague, and it has inspired a whole host of rubber bands, vaccuum cleaners and canned protein shakes advertised as "exercise systems", "cleaning systems", and "weight-loss systems". In my opinion, if your exercise system consists of a large rubber band (or a giant net, or a plastic step) and an instruction book, it is not a system.

The Worst Offender

Center and system are badly overused, but the most ubiquitous and abused word on corporate lips is manage, and all its derivatives.

Traditionally, a manager has been an individual, entrusted with extraordinary responsibility, and empowered to make decisions on behalf of others. Here too, the definition is vague enough that when computers came along, many of the operations and tasks requiring special priviliges were labeled managerial (or administrative).

Now, it seems, any application or device that creates, edits, deletes, and generally organizes anything is called a maganger. Can't we just call it a download monitor? A photo organizer? Perhaps even a bookmark tracker? It seems highly unlikely. In the meantime I think I'll go fiddle around in the System Management Center.

OK, Let's Sign 'Em Up

A recent conversation with one of my most thought-provoking friends veered onto the topic of presidential impeachment. I suggested that if we could get a million folks to sign a petition, our elected public officials would have know choice but to take notice. To this, her enthusiastic response was, "A million signatures? We can get that, let's do it!" It was my opinion, however, that by the time the impeachment process had come to a close, the 2008 presidential election would have run its course, and it isn't likely that the House Judiciary Committee would exert its efforts on such an ill-timed venture.

An interesting aside to this conversation was a brief, tangential debate on whether the office of President of the United States constitutes a job. I am of the opinion that any activity which one is regularly expected to do, and for which one is regularly compensated amounts to a job. She held that the office of the President is above an ordinary job. I can only pray that his secret surveillance program(s) didn't pick that up, as it can only lead to bad things (thanks Mel)....

The Real Idiot Tax

I'm not sure why I started thinking about this, but it's been on my mind for some time now. Some people refer to state lotteries as "idiot taxes". Does that make mandatory car insurance a "sensible driver tax"? In my home state of New York, drivers are required to have car insurance (or other proof of financial security, whatever that means). Couldn't the State find a way to get its many grabbing, little hands on that money, and funnel it towards (fill in the blank)?

Now, perhaps this is just the cynic in me coming out, but it seems like the insurance industry is right up the State's alley. Here are a bunch of corporate businesses collecting money from people, and, if all goes well, offering nothing of substance in return. That's New York State's specialty. I'm not saying that none of the myriad taxes, fees, and surcharges levied by the State go to good causes. I'm only suggesting that as long as people are forced to pay something for nothing, it ought to go to a good cause, like pampering Alan Hevesi's wife....

Happy Old Year

And so it ends. With the rapid approach of 2007, it is time to take a moment to appreciate the year that was. Give thanks for wealth, health and happiness. Maybe go to some hole-in-the-wall dive downtown and get stinking drunk. If I'm feeling especially American I can even make insipid resolutions (let's be honest - they're really first few weeks of January resolutions, aren't they?).

It was a year in which I learned more than I forgot, my favorite sports teams won more than they lost, and I made more friends than enemies. Oh and I rediscovered some old ones. The best thing about 2006 was this - I had a lot of fun without trying. I'm not even sure why that's so important, but I think it is, and so, I can honestly say, 2006, I'm sorry to see you go.

Get a Car!

It was a beautiful day, so I thought to myself, "Why not walk a couple of blocks to the pizza place in the plaza?" It seemed an ideal opportunity to get some fresh air and see somefresh faces.

The first thing I noticed was a minivan parked on a sharply inclined street. The van was pointed very slightly out, towards the middle of the street while its front wheels were perfectly straight. It was an accident waiting to happen, if something were to go amiss with the transmission and the parking break (how many people with automatic transmissions set the parking break?) that van was going to take out traffic going in both directions. How hard is it to remember to turn the wheels toward the curb?

A bit later in my sojourn I was distracted by a bunch of barbaric teenagers in a stopped schoolbus, you know, the kind that hang out the windows and yell for no good reason. When I got close enough to make out what they were saying I was amused to discover that they were yelling, "Get a car!" at passersby. That's funny! Nevermind the reasons we're walking (exercise, it's a short distance, I like the sun, rising gas prices) isn't it ironic that people in a bus should be yelling this? I mean, if any of them had cars, they wouldn't be yelling at me, right?

Unfortunately my amusement was only short lived. As I approached the pizza place, I walked under a tree. It wasn't until too late that I noticed a caterpiller hanging by a strand of silk. Suddenly I was surrounded by paratrooping tent caterpillers. They were descending from everywhere! Although I don't consider myself a squeamish type, I don't relish the sensation of hundreds of insects writhing around on my head and shoulders either. I made a mental note to use the other side of the street on my way home.

Say It With Authority

Today I witnessed a supervisor trying to exercise authority over a co-worker, and was a little taken aback by the lack of grace with which she went about it. When first she told him what she wanted him to do, it was in such a whimsical tone that he could very easily have believed she was joking. When he still didn't do it, she began to argue with him. At last, as a last resort, she prefixed the directive with, "I'm a coordinator!"

It seems to me that this is a rather poor way to assert one's authority. I think she very likely would have been successful on her first attempt if she had made it clear by tone of voice and body language that she was issuing a directive and not submitting a suggestion. Allowing the exchange to escalate into an argument only strengthens the notion that a subordinate has a choice. Finally, I think that waving one's title under the nose of a subordinate, like a cop with a badge, is not only undignified, but also undermines the authority of the waver supervisor. One might as well shout, "You may not listen to me, but you'll listen to my title!" Effective, perhaps, but hardly ideal.

I Only Wanted a Chalupa

I wanted a chalupa, so I went to the local Taco Bell and waited in line. After a ten minute wait, intermittently punctuated by repeated shouts of, "CAN I HELP THE NEXT PERSON?!", I finally arrived at the front of the line. But wait! My chance to order was further put off by a very humorous exchange between a Taco Bell employee and a digruntled customer. Apparently she was dissatisfied with the appearance and/or taste of her food—it wasn't immediately clear which. In fact, the conversation consisted mostly of the customer pointing at the picture on the menu while the Taco Bell employee emphatically shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. I did catch the words "It doesn't come with little red strips" and "Whatever. This food sucks." This continued for quite some time before the customer stormed off, probably to waste someone else's precious lunch break.

With her departure it seemed that nothing could stand between me and my chalupa. Unfortunately, as I opened my mouth to order, I was promptly greeted by the backs of both cashiers while they did a "quick" (5 minutes! Seriously, how long does it take to empty a register? 30 seconds?) pull. A little perturbed, but undaunted, I continued to wait. I really craved that chalupa.

As the seconds and minutes of my lunch hour slipped away, and just as I had begun to despair of ever realizing the epicurean bliss that is a fresh chalupa, a cashier returned. Finally, face-to-face with opportunity, I received this warm salutation: "CAN I HELP THE NEXT PERSON?!!!". This, at 100 decibels, from less than three feet away. Despite the nervous smile of a junkie about to get a fix, I asked in a calm, and reasonable tone for two chalupas. Her expression changed not a whit as she informed me that they didn't have chalupas. In fact, they couldn't make any flatbread food at all. I wanted to scream. I wanted to bellow. I wanted to ... write an angry letter! Instead I slunk off to the fast food Chinese place next door, where they always greet you with a smile and the food isn't bad, despite being as well-lubricated as the floor of my mechanic's garage.

Tiny Little Car

On the way to the gas station today, I passed a vehicle reminiscent of a golf cart, going the other direction. Unfortunately I didn't have time to see if the little vehicle actually had license plates before speeding around the corner and out of sight. I was, however, able to discern what sounded like a 20cc engine (only because it's too early in the year for a plague of locusts).

My first impression, of course was, "Whoah! If a bus hit that, the passengers wouldn't even know it!"

[THUMP]
First passenger: Hey what was that?
Second passenger: I don't know, maybe we hit a squirrel.

Soon after, I got out of my car, and started pumping cash—I mean gas—into it. It was then that I realized how desperate people are becoming in this country with regards to increasing gas prices. Now that the little five-gallon gas can you keep in your garage to power the lawn mower is worth $15 or more, people are willing to embrace the possibility of being caught in the front grill of an 18-wheeler, if it means saving a few bucks on fuel.

Taking a Flyer

Why do people insist on leaving trash on my windshield? Who sees a piece of paper flapping on the front of his car, and says, "Fantastic! This unique opportunity to work from home is something I've always dreamed of!" In my opinion, this a much worse offense than unsolicited phone calls at dinner. At least I can be sure that the poor schmuck on the other end of the line will hear all the invective I have to spew at him.

Now I wonder: Is there some misguided soul who believes that a 1-800 number, a free informational packet, and a bonus CD/DVD is going to take him from being a disgruntled line-level manager to a work-from-home millionaire? Even if such a dubious individual did exist, would he be intrigued enough to overcome the initial vexation of dicovering that someone had used his car as free billboard space? Listen, if you're going to use my windshield as advertisement space, at least cut me a check!

Talk for Two, Please

I've been considering how much I appreciate a good "talk". This is especially true with strangers and those with whom I have little in common. It takes a certain amount of skill, I think, to maintain a conversation that flows, much less one that interests both parties. I'm getting increasingly tired of people who talk "at" me. Why do they need me if they aren't even going to attempt to involve me in the "diaglogue"? By the same token, I'd like to know that the other person isn't being burdened by my conversation. I think every good conversation has points at which one speaker can pause, and the other can put in his two cents. Perhaps he can even redirect the conversation, if he so desires....