I'm comfortable not knowing

About a thousand years ago I was a newbie consultant working for a large, (actually quite large), implementation services arm of a equally large software company. As the software products that our consulting and implementation services group were responsible for implementing numbered in the dozens (if not more), and they were each one reasonably complex technologies, the company enrolled all newly hired implementation consultants in an extensive 8-week training program that was affectionately known as 'bootcamp'.

The bootcamp consisted of 8 hour days, for 8 weeks, taking all of the new consultants through the details and inner workings of the most commonly purchased of the company's applications, giving us a reasonable facsimile of 'real-world' problems that needed to be solved via case studies, and took us through what life as a traveling software consultant was actually all about. Aside - the job and lifestyle was equally better and worse than we all anticipated, but that is a topic for another time.

But even over an 8-week period, the amount of technical, functional, business, process, and project management material that was presented to us was immense and fast-paced, and truly, there was almost no way to actually remember I'd estimate more than about half of it. The rest, and certainly the more important parts of the knowledge needed to become a good consultant would take more time to acquire, and work in the field with real customers to reinforce.

All of this setup is to get to the point of this post. I don't really remember anything specifically from the content of the 8-week training bootcamp save for one sentence that was uttered not from one of the excellent instructors or experienced consultants that led our training, but rather from one of my fellow bootcampers.

At the end of a long week of intensive work on some complex application and technology concepts, our instructor was making a final point about some detail or another, and she noticed a look of confusion on the face of a student in the front of the class. She paused, explained the point once more, and then asked him point blank, "Do you understand what I mean by configuring setting ABC in order to allow the customer to do XYZ?" , (the specifics don't matter, and I don't remember what they were anyway).

The student thought about the question for a second then replied, "No, I really don't understand. But I'm comfortable not knowing."

The instructor was a little taken aback, tried to re-state the concept, and hammer it home so that it clicked with the student, but she missed the real point of his response. It was not that he didn't care about understanding the point she was making, or that he would never understand it, but rather in that setting, with that specific point competing with about 3,000 other ones we'd all been exposed to in the last few weeks, that is was ok to not understand. He was comfortable (his word), with his ability to access reference material, draw on his network of colleagues, do some of his own testing, etc. in order to understand the key point when confronted with the problem in the future.

He was comfortable not knowing because he was comfortable in his ability to think about the problem, access relevant resources, and apply what he'd learned more generally in order to solve this specific problem. He didn't need to know everything, Heck, no one needs to know everything.

I like people that don't claim to have all the answers. I especially like people that are willing to admit that they don't have all the answers, but know how to find them. 

And are comfortable with that.

Twinkies or technology skills: Shelf-life is shorter than you think

All of us, or at least most of us that care about the future of some of America's most beloved snack foods, have been following the sad story of Hostess - the venerable maker of all things wonderful, (Twinkies, Ding Dongs, and my favorite, those orange nuclear-looking cupcakes), that after failing to come to terms with striking workers, appears to be in its death spiral.  If indeed Hostess has to liquidate, it seems likely that some of their most popular and iconic brands like the Twinkie might survive, with a number of potential rival baking companies seemingly eager to purchase (at a fire-sale price), the brand name and recipe for the cake.It might still be good

While a plausible scenario, the Twinkie's future is still uncertain, and in the week or so run-up from the initial announcement of Hostess' intention to pursue liquidation, and the last, failed attempt at a labor settlement, consumers across the country essentially bought out all remaining supplies of Twinkies and other favorite Hostess snacks. The idea being to stock up while you still could, and if you acted quickly and scored a few extra Twinkies boxes, that combination of your stockpile with the Twinkie's legendary decades-long shelf-life, you'd be set to get your Twinkie fix for a really, really long time.

But it turns out, despite the urban legend that the preservative and artificial ingredient-heavy Twinkie being able to last forever, (or near enough), the true shelf-life of a Twinkie is no more than about 25 days, and typically were pulled from store shelves after about 10 days. So bottom-line, Twinkies last for less time than you think, (please let's hope they come back, I finished my stash two days ago).

I thought about the little Twinkie paradox while reading this piece, 'What's the Shelf-life of a Techie? Just 15 years, from the Times of India site.  In the piece, high-ranking technology leaders from the India operations of several well-known global tech firms,  (SAP, Microsoft, Texas Instruments), paint a pretty stark and probably realistic picture of the increasingly rapid deterioration of technology skills and expertise, as the pace of newer, hotter, and more in-demand technologies come to market. There are about half a dozen choice quotes in the piece, but this is the one that really stood out the most:

Mukund Mohan, CEO of Microsoft's startup accelerator programme in India, says the shelf life of certain kinds of developers has shrunk to less than a year. "My daughter developed an app for iPhone 4. Today, she is redeveloping the app to make it smarter for iPhone 5.

Five years ago, developers were talking Symbian (the Nokia operating system). Today, it's not very relevant. You have to look at Android or iOS or may be even Windows 8 to stay relevant."

A pretty telling quote and a bit frightening as well. The iPhone4 is maybe a year old, the iPhone5 less than that, and about to be rendered, 'out of date' in maybe 6 more months. It used to be that hardware, software, and the technical skills needed to make it all work advanced more evenly, regularly, and more importantly, the big firms that make these technologies, and their customers that use them, had much longer time horizons in mind when developing and deploying technology.

In the (recent) past a large, enterprise deployment of an ERP or an accounting system at a big firm could reasonably be expected to be in place more or less unchanged, for a decade, maybe even longer. Lots of IT pros and managers have made long and successful careers essentially by developing a deep understanding of a single technology.

While that was commonplace, and if you chose the 'right' technology, a pretty shrewd approach to career management, if these IT executives are accurate in their assessments, specializing in one technology at the expense of, exposure to, and continual learning about the 'next' technology that will be in demand is the only way to at least have a chance of remaining relevant, (and employable), past a time horizon, like the shelf-life of the Twinkie, is a lot shorter than you think.

Have a great Tuesday!

Paul Revere is Terrible and the Unintended Consequences of Games

I am not really a gamer, but even I took notice of the trailers and TV spots for the latest release in the popular Assassin's Creed video game series.  Titled simply 'Assassin's Creed III', the basic premise has the game's hero/protagonist 'Connor' operating and fighting in the Revolutionary War-era American Colonies, with the fictional Assassin's Creed characters and plotlines interwoven with real historical figures from that era like Benjamin Franklin, Sam Adams, and George Washington.

So a couple of weeks ago I picked up the game for my son who proceeded to enthusiastically dive in to the story, and by extension, into the Assassin's Creed view of the Colonial world and some of the most famous people and heroes of that age. Then, in what can either be described as trusting and empowering parenting, or simply 'bad' parenting, I sort of tuned out while he spent some time over several days playing the game, and navigating through the stylized and idealized versions of Colonial Philadelphia, New York, and Boston.

When I asked him about the game, and specifically how did he like interacting with the historical characters like Franklin and Washington, the conversation went something like this:

Me: How was it playing the game and mixing it up with famous people from American History?

P: They were all cool, with one exception.

Me: Who was that?

P: Paul Revere.

Me: What was bad about Paul Revere?

P: Paul Revere is terrible. He kept yelling at me to get back on my horse. When we had to fight the Redcoats he was worthless, all he did was wave his arms around and ride in a circle. He almost got me killed about five times.

I have to admit it cracked me up, the idea of American Icon and legend Paul Revere reduced to a flailing, ineffective liability out in the field when naturally we think of him as a heroic and legendary figure. After I stopped laughing I did attempt to stick up for Revere and remind P of his place as a true patriot and essential player in our nation's formation. I didn't really think that Assassin's Creed would be an accurate and historically correct take on American History, (nor should it be), but I also did not want to see P walk away with a really incorrect impression of Revere.

Thinking about the conversation further, I could not help but wonder if Assassin's Creed story is one we should take caution from, as we continue to think about and introduce gaming elements and game mechanics to more parts of work, education, and life in general.

In Assassin's Creed, any potential relevant learning and understanding of historical events and figures is only an afterthought to the game itself - its purpose is to entertain and engage the player to accomplish the various missions, none of which are 'Understand the historical significance of Paul Revere'.

I totally get that - running around Boston, scaling walls, dispatching spies and Redcoats with a well-placed musket shot is tremendous fun -  thinking about how onerous taxes levied on colonial merchants and how that led to protest and rebellion is kind of boring - particularly to an 12 year old.

But that is exactly the reason why I think we have to be really careful making everything into some kind of game - it can get really easy to make the game itself so compelling and interesting that we forget why we are even playing in the first place. And it can get even easier to see 'success' as winning the game, with the true goals or purpose - completing some real work or learning something important, becoming only ancillary benefits.

And I checked - Paul Revere is terrible, (at least at Assassin's Creed).

Carp, addictive bait, and just showing up

We have all heard the old chestnut about the connection between 'showing up' and success - there are a few variations of the idea, but the one that is most often repeated, and that we probably cringe in horror when we see it randomly shoot past on a Twitter feed or a Facebook page is attributed to Woody Allen, and reads something like:

'Eighty percent of success is showing up.'

The idea being, I suppose, that often we short-circuit our own chances for success by not doing theI prefer Romanian bait simple, basic, and often kind of easy parts of the work, making true success even more unlikely. It is a kind of comforting notion as well - one begins to think that merely 'showing up' - i.e. getting to work on time, doing the pre-reading, passing on eating the extra donut - will put you 80% of the way towards wherever you'd like to go. And maybe that is true. But often just showing up won't get it done in a truly competitive situation, unless of course you call 'showing up' arriving five months before it is actually required, and creating a set of conditions from which, during the actual competition, you will be certain to win. 

Submitted for your review, from a piece on the sports blog Deadspin, the story of the recent World Carp Fishing Championship, (yes, such a thing exists), and how 'showing up' five months early paid off for the Romanian team.  

Winners Romania had spent the five months preceding the tournament feeding the fish of Lake Corbu with a secret bait recipe. Unfortunately for the 10-man England side, who finished 18th, they turned up at last month's tournament with £10,000 worth of traditional "boilies".

The mash-up of flour, egg and flavorer such as blended dried dog food is popular with British fish but failed to spark a flicker of interest in the Romanian carp which were happy to gorge on the feed offered on the hooks of their hosts which they had grown obligingly fat on throughout the summer.

The debacle has prompted fury in the highly-competitive world of carp fishing, a discipline where technical know-how and secret techniques can make the team tactics of cycle road racing appear as complex and cut throat as a round of tiddlywinks.

I don't know why, but I dig this story. Maybe it's the underdog angle, except I have no idea if the Romanian team were truly underdogs. Or maybe it's the appreciation for the way they figured out there was more than one way to win at this contest, and if they were willing to do the lengthy preparation and pre-work that was needed, that they would win in the end, with the extra bonus of it seeming like cheating or at least unsporting behavior making it even more compelling.

But in the end, I guess I like the story because it pokes a little bit at the Woody Allen quote that I am sick of hearing. The other teams all 'showed up' at the Carp fishing contest, but were crushed by the Romanians who just 'showed up' as well.  The difference was only how they interpreted 'showing up', something that no pithy quote from a celebrity can teach.

So here's my (non-celebrity) advice on when you should show up - earlier than you planned.

Have a great week!

You can still see, right?

In a few short weeks my New York State issued driver's license will expire, and to continue to remain in the good graces of our fine state's laws and regulations I will need to renew said license, a fairly simple exercise in filling out some forms, paying some kind of fee, (it's a FEE not a tax), and interestingly to me, submit to an pass the State's vision test, (picture of the state's 'Eye Test Report' accompanies this post).Read the fourth line starting on the left, please?

It makes sense I think, that for the renewal of my driving privileges that the State desires not only to receive my additional $64.50 and a new and current picture of my handsome mug, they also want me to prove, (or have a registered Health Care Provider attest), that I can actually handle the first and most basic element required to safely operate a motor vehicle - I can actually see. 

And I applaud the State of New York for making sure to verify my ability to see before sanctioning me for another four years out on the roadways as an authorized operator of (most) any car, truck, van, I can get my hands on. 

But putting aside the practical and budgetary realities aside for a moment, (believe me in New York we do not need to pay any more taxes), the license renewal process and the associated Eye Test reveals the obvious flaw in the process - in order to be a safe and responsible driver, it doesn't really matter if I can see, what matters is whether or not I know how and can demonstrate that I can drive.  And while I know in New York, or in any other place for that matter, road re-testing of long time drivers is not feasible (and probably doesn't make sense), this necessarily flawed process reminds us that most of the time when making decisions surrounding the capability and suitability of someone to successfully perform any task, we almost always make our judgement with imperfect and incomplete information.

And in the 'checking of the boxes' process of traits and experiences we often fail to remember the essential function or task that we really need to have accomplished.

New York State will re-authorize me for $64.50 and proof I can see. Whether or not I know how to drive, well that is another story.

And by the way, I am an excellent driver - it's all of you people that are a menace out on the roads.

Have a great week!