Friday, November 8, 2019

Raising canes


Wednesday afternoon I looked out the window at work and saw these being put up:


This was 6 November, mind; people are still coming down from their Halloween sugar high, and Boston Properties is putting up Christmas decorations, right in the heart (or possibly the kidney) of the People’s Republic.

This abomination is at the faux urban construct known as Reston Town Center, a collection of butt-ugly high-rises anchored by a rotating stream of chain shops and restaurants. The rotation has been given a kick in the pants by BP imposing parking fees in a scheme involving byzantine and confusing divisions of garages and initially-mandated use of a parking app that demands access to your contacts, videos, photos and more on your mobile phone. (I had to download the app when I came for my interview back in August; I deleted it immediately afterward.) When BP combined the throttling of customers who refused to pay to park for goods and services they can get at any other mall with raising rents for retail space, well…

Anyhow, given that utterly ersatz ambience that pervades the place, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that they couldn’t wait to start slapping up the holiday reminders.

They haven’t lighted them yet, but I’m still outraged.


BREAKING: When I walked in this morning (at 0530; don’t ask), the canes were gone. Dunno the back story on that. But I’m still outraged.




Thursday, November 7, 2019

Brioche and whisky


We made inroads into the uncertainties of my Project Brioche today. My colleague MG and I basically pulled the “we aren’t leaving this web page until we’ve collected all the requirements”, and I feel heaps better about it.

Well, as the meeting ended and we were leaving the conference room, I said I was glad that my terror at seeing all those empty spaces in MG’s requirements matrix helped spur this. My manager replied—intending to be encouraging, I know—“No, you’re leading Pickett’s gallant charge up the hill.”

I stopped in my tracks, goggled at him and stuttered, “Wut? WUT? That charge did not end well.”

(Actually, I’m trying to think of a charge that did end well, and I’m coming up short. The Light Brigade at Balaklava? Custer at Little Bighorn? Flaminius at Trasimene? D’Albret at Agincourt? Huh.)

Well, he recognized his error, so that’s okay.

Also—we spent about half of our weekly 1:1 catch-up talking whisky. And not only does he have no time for Laphroaig, his “spirit animal” is Highland Park 18.

I can forgive such a person much.




Wednesday, November 6, 2019

Positive declaration


Another absolutely cray-cray day yesterday. So here’s something amusing I saw last week:


Google Translate says “Ya llegue” (with the double-L sound pronounced as a Y) means “I’m here” in Spanish. But the verb llegar means “to arrive”, and “ya llegue” would translate literally to “I already arrive”.

So I’d make it “I’ve arrived”, or “I’ve made it.”



Tuesday, November 5, 2019

Getting to know the neighbors


Yesterday was a bit loopy, so I’m posting a picture of a cat that came to visit for about a day a couple of months ago:


She made herself completely at home, as you can see. Turns out her name is Sammy and she lives next door. She got out one day and spent about 24 hours in the wild.

I cooked her some chicken, which she picked at, and she was also a Kitty of Substance, so I figured she had humans somewhere. I’m glad they were reunited fairly quickly.





Monday, November 4, 2019

Gratitude Monday: comrades in Brioche


I’m struggling some to wrap my head around the dark web-related product I’m managing. Partly because of Atlassian-based tools we use (I’ve never used them before), partly because the process is different from other companies where I’ve been a project manager (every org is different), partly because I was not involved in the initial stages of it (like defining requirements; that’s one of the strongest bonds between a PM and a product) and partly because not three days after my manager explained what the application was going to do I sat in a meeting where it became clear that this sucker had morphed into something new, now with only about 35% of what I’d been told.

And—even though I like to think of product management as performance art, the reality is that it’s performance art with Jack Russell terriers; you’re always trying to get all the disparate (and very well-meaning) colleagues lined up in some order that will facilitate the performance, but they’re way too interested in passing moths, a straw sticking up from the ground and the scent of bacon coming from somewhere.

So, because I really want to do a good job for this company, there’s a continuo of anxiety underpinning my struggle; I keep thinking I’ve lost IQ points because something I’ve been told just doesn’t stick.

Well, my colleague, MG, has alleviated most of that angst. This woman is not only widely versed in our product set, she’s one of the two best program managers I’ve ever worked with. If MG had been involved in Operation Overlord, there wouldn’t have been that major SNAFU on Omaha Beach. And if for some reason things had started out badly, she’d have had them sorted by the time the second wave was hitting the sand.

I watched her in action during the day-long engineering planning session last month—she was documenting the activities and would not let the room full of engineers, architects, PMs and directors move on until she’d clarified what, in fact, we’d all agreed to, step by step.

I was in awe.

Since then, she’s taken the lead in making sure that PM is following through. Again—we don’t move off a PPT slide until she gets the level of information she thinks is necessary.

Well, back to my dark web thing. I’ll refer to it as Project Brioche. We agreed a couple of weeks ago that we’d have operational meetings on a weekly basis, and last week was the first one. The day before I was staring at the item on my Outlook calendar with a feeling approaching despair, because heretofore the techies have been driving it, and it’s up to me to take over the leadership, because I’m PM, but I’m unclear about this thing, what it is supposed to do, where it came from and the whole megillah. At that exact moment, MG popped up on Teams asking if I had time to chat.

That chat turned into a 90-minute call during which MG put together the framework for that particular meeting (which involved getting everyone associated with it on the same page) and for future meetings (where we check progress). She asked me so many questions I could not answer and I was getting close to crying, but then I realized that what she wanted is absolutely crucial to not only Brioche’s success, but to mine as the PM. She also gently laid out responsibilities for various parts of the meeting, taking a huge burden off of me and giving me confidence that I could in fact deliver on my part.

And—just as I was about to suggest that we do this pre-meeting synch regularly, she asked, “What do you think about the two of us getting together before each group session?” If hugs could reach from DC to Dallas, she’d have been squished.

That first operational check-in was difficult, largely because so much of Brioche is amorphous; way more than normal. But also because of all those Jack Russells sniffing bacon and chasing moths. Although I was not as leaderly as I’d have liked, MG was right there to keep things moving.

And she followed up later in the week to plough through the agenda, nail down action items and get us set up for this week. Again—I was so grateful I could have cried. I told her that this kind of thing is not my strong suit, and I’m deeply thankful that it’s her very happy place. We’re like yin and yang, complementing each other’s skills and mitigating weaknesses. As I said: it’s a marriage made in heaven.

A couple of other things I’ll share. Before the big engineering session, MG and I had only “met” over the phone. Once or twice I said something that I really thought nothing of, but she found impressive. The first time, we were on a team call where our manager (being at a conference) kept dropping off the audio. MG was the first to tell him what was happening, and I added, “Yeah. I’m sitting here taking notes and [with JH cutting out] I don’t know what to write.

MG: “I’m so glad JH hired a smartass.”

The other time was two days before the big engineering matinĂ©e. We had a semi-come to Jesus meeting with the head of engineering, our manager, the VP and the SVP. One of the issues was around the value in some of our pricing strategies, and I blurted, “[Product package] is basically handing out baggies of crack at the playground. The money comes in after they’re hooked.”

(Well—it’s true. Perhaps not elegantly phrased, but that’s a time-tested method of breaking into a new market.)

MG: “I am really looking forward to meeting [Bas Bleu].”

So on this Gratitude Monday, I’m giving it up for MG, who is way more than a colleague; she’s a comrade. We’re going to turn out the best Brioche ever.