I’m in the middle of a round of testing on a system for my current client, and I needed a list of names that I could use to create dummy data. My usual solution in this situation is to go out to wikipedia and pull down a list of some sort. Most recently, I pulled down a list of authors.
During the course of the testing, one record in particular has been throwing some weird and inexplicable errors. I checked the ID number on the record and went in for a closer look. The name on the record?
Same Coworker: [Things are not going well.]
Me: You need to do what I do in these situations. Stop on the way home to pick up pineapple juice and coconut rum. Presuming you already have orange juice.
Same Coworker: Oh Lord, that would kill me I think. Which would be an excellent reason for being off work.
Me: Told you last week, no dying.
Same Coworker: Wonder if you have to put in for that 2 weeks in advance.
Me: Minimum.
Coworker: I am not feeling 100% today. permission to go home and die please.
Me: Go home, yes; die, no. Coma is permissible but frowned upon.
Now that the cat is all the way out of the bag…
I have left my job. It was time.
Not because of any individual—in fact, leaving behind all the individuals is hard. Not because of anything negative either at my client or at my employer. But because I deeply need to do something different.
Still, it’s hard to leave my team behind. Because, if I may say so, my team is made of win. Nobody is mean. Nobody is stupid. In fact, everyone is smart and creative and professional and they all have a great sense of humor. And I’m not just saying that because I know that you—you know who you are—read my blog occasionally.
Best of all, everyone has something to teach, everyone has something to learn, and everyone watches out for their teammates.
Normally I am not one to name names online, but I want to sincerely thank Aaron, Amy, Amy, Chris, Dale, Dave, Dianna, Elaine, Lora, Marcus and Michael. I am a definitely a better manager because of you. I am probably a better person because of you. And of course, your predecessors as well—Amber, Amy, Andrew, Anne, Beau, Brandi, Brenda, Chris, David, Deanne, Denise, Dev, Grace, James, Joe, Joel, Jon, Heather, Kay, Ken, Lena, Lora, Michael, Michael, Michelle, Mike, Oran, Pat, Paul, Scott, Shelby, Steve, Steve, Tim, Tom, and, of course, Walter. All of you have made me laugh. (One or two of you have also made me cry, but we won’t dwell on that.)
Thank you. And good luck.
A: What is Microsoft Works?
Me: An oxymoron.
I work in software quality, and I’ve spent a lot of time with customers who insist that they need custom tools for their wildly esoteric and unique needs, needs that no other company in the history of commerce could ever imagine having.
Needs such as defect tracking and payroll.
In my experience, this leads to what I call the screwdriver/three-hole punch problem. Briefly, a customer has a burning need for a three-hole punch, and because they’re buying tools anyway, they also want a Phillips screwdriver. Somebody then comes up with the brilliant idea for a combination three-hole punch/screwdriver, and decides that this is the only possible solution to their problem.
When I’ve seen this happen, it tends to go one of two ways:
1. The customer calls up a big-name company that makes the best three-hole punch known to man, and asks if they can bolt on a screwdriver attachment. The customer waves a lot of money and after a lot of customization, you end up with a three-hole punch that works most of the time, and a Phillips attachment that tends to strip your screws.
2. The customer finds a tiny, boutique vendor that individually handcrafts a combination three-hole punch/screwdriver that looks really cool. The customer waves a lot of money and two guys in a garage try to build 25,000 identical combination three-hole punch/Phillips screwdrivers in three weeks. They deliver six months late, and the product turns out to be a two-hole punch with a Robertson screwdriver.
In both cases, it also usually turns out that the customer really needed was a good set of Allen wrenches and a red Swingline stapler.
My knee-jerk reaction to this is that it’s a requirements problem, but I keep wanting to think that there’s more to it than that.
I’m having the sort of problem at work that requires an entirely new phrase to describe it, hence, “revenant issues” (or problems).
A revenant issue is one that you thought was settled, but returns again and again to plague you.
Or, as I described it to my boss, “I staked [problem] through the heart, so I thought it was dead, but apparently I forgot to cut off the head and fill the mouth with garlic.”
Me: It would be nice to have a formal process by which we do so
X: And that is the only point I want to make
Me: Maybe even a formal, documented process…but I tend to think that way
X: Now just hold on…you’re getting out there young lady
Me: Am I, or am I not, the Empress of Quality?
X: My apologies…of course Your Majesty
Me: Oh good..I was afraid I was delusional AND having an identity crisis
If only I had an attribution for this one; I can’t claim to have written it, but I don’t know who did.
‘Twas the nite before implementation and all through the house, Not a program was working, not even a browse.
The programmers hung by their tubes in despair, With hopes that a miracle soon would be there.
The users were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of inquiries danced in their heads.
When out in the machine room there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
And what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a super programmer ( with a six-pack of beer ).
Her resume glowed with experience so rare, She turned out great code with a bit-pusher’s flair.
More rapid than eagles, her programs they came, And she cursed and muttered and called them by name.
On Update! On Add! On Inquiry! On Delete!
On Batch Jobs! On Closings! On Functions Complete!
Her eyes were glazed over, fingers nimble and lean,
From weekends and nites in front of a screen.
A wink of her eye and a twitch of her head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work, Turning specs into code; then turned with a jerk.
And laying her finger upon the “ENTER” key, The system came up and worked perfectly.
The updates updated; the deletes, they deleted; The inquiries inquired, and closings completed.
She tested each whistle, and tested each bell, With nary a bomb, and all had gone well.
The system was finished, the tests were concluded, The users’ last changes were even included.
And the user exclaimed with a snarl and a taunt, “It’s just what I asked for, but not what I want!”