Going dark

One of the products I manage involves data from (among other places) the Deep Web and the Dark Web. For the unfamiliar, the former basically comprises sites that aren’t indexed by web searches—so they could be perfectly legit, but behind a login. The Dark Web (a subset of the Deep Web), on the other hand, can’t be reached via Safari or Firefox; you need specialized browsers, like Tor. And once you get there, it’s basically a cesspit of illegality and depravity.

The Dark Web is where you can find, buy and sell hacked data, stolen credit card numbers, social security and other national ID numbers, weapons, drugs and a lot of things I don’t want to think about. It’s 8Chan on PCP.

I spent an hour or two on my product the other day, looking around some of the information that’s been pulled from various Dark sites. Let me emphasize that I was not on the Dark Web, I was just looking at various emails, forums, paste site data (where hacking code can be found) and miscellanea. The small snippets I saw were enough to make me want to shower with a steam hose and steel wool.

I commented “that Dark Web is one crazy-ass place” to two of my colleagues, both of whom have spent time in certifiable hellholes collecting combat pay. They both assured me that it’s no place they want to return. One told me that some sites fend off lurkers (who don’t have the right password) by running images of things he wouldn’t even describe.

People, man—there is no bottom.

Getting away

One of the attractions for my current job is the unlimited vacation policy. This is a shiny-glittery thing many tech companies dangle in front of workers, like foosball tables and snack rooms full of snacks.

Quite a number of these organizations thereupon turn around and make it impossible for employees to actually take time off; they deflect disappointed reactions by chirping, “But foosball!” It’s been six weeks since I started, and I wanted to get the scoop from my manager, so at yesterday’s 1:1 with him, I asked what “unlimited PTO” looks like in our group.

It turns out that the SVP who had a 30-minute meeting to welcome me to the business division is so adamant about people taking time off work that she made it one of the metrics for her direct reports that they take vacation. Our VP took five weeks last year.

Well, I told my manager that my idea of holiday involves a trans-oceanic flight, so my vacations typically are around one to two weeks. He told me that as long as I give him advance notice, that’s okay by him.

I do not want to find myself in the position of going years without a break and then suddenly having to plan a three-week getaway, like I did last year. Or just forgetting to take vacation. My manager agreed.

So—which should I do first? South Africa/Botswana or Japan/Korea? And then there’s Slovenia. And Norway… Hmm.

Another commute

Last Wednesday afternoon, during a break in an all-day meeting, I looked out a window to discover it was pissing down rain outside. Ordinarily that wouldn’t bother me, but I’d walked to work that day and hadn’t yet got round to putting a folding umbrella in my tote bag.

Throughout the afternoon it showed no signs of abating, so I was not looking forward to the walk home. But sometime after 1700, when the meeting broke up, the skies had cleared and it was dry (except for puddles) on the way home.

I made sure that the umbrella went into the bag that evening, because if I don’t do a thing in the moment, I’ll forget about it and find myself in a Groundhog Day of repeated mistakes.

Well, I was grateful for that yesterday, because sometime in the afternoon grey skies turned to rainy skies, and it was still coming down by the time I pulled the plug on the day.

But I had my umbrella, so all was well. Except for the puddles.

P.S. Interestingly, the tree that blew down across the path last Thursday is still there. Neither Fairfax County, Reston Association nor Boston Properties (whoever’s responsible for that area) has bothered to clear it. Huh.

Breaking up

Oh, my ears and whiskers—the whole recruiting system!

I’ve noticed that, since I started my new job last month, I’ve suddenly become more attractive to recruiters. Real recruiters, I mean, not the Bangalore-based contract spammers who tout sysadmin or dev jobs in various places 1500 miles away from me.

No, these are in-house recruiters for actual product management jobs. Although some are 2500 miles from me. (I turned down a technical product manager job in Los Altos, California, last week by saying I didn’t meet their criteria. The recruiter came back with another TPM opening in Baltimore. She said their VP of Product personally said he wanted me to apply because I’m such a good match. I’m not.)

The one that cracked me up, however, was from another infosec company. I applied for a product marketing manager job with them in [checks notes] June. And I had an internal referral, which is supposed to mean you get more attention that tossing your résumé in over the transom. It was in Boston, but still worth a shot.

Aside from the system-generated “we’ve received your application” email, I heard nothing. Until last week, when a human recruiter emailed to set up a time to talk about the position.

Well, after laughing some, I replied thanking her for reaching out, but said that in the intervening time I’d accepted another position. I did not specify where it was. She thanked me and it was too bad the timing wasn’t right (yeah, hon—like it took four months to fire up your email?) and we should stay in touch. Yeah, whatever.

But yesterday I got a system-generated email from their applicant tracking system (ATS) saying that they’d decided to pursue other candidates that would make the most immediate impact for the business needs.

Dudes—you did not fire me; I quit.

Gratitude Monday: planning

In my post last week about anomalies in Lean Cuisine product offerings, I mentioned I was looking for a quick-and-dirty solution to dinner on nights when I get home from work too tired to do the whole put-it-together schtick. That earned me some stick on Facebook: a friend admonished, “Tsk, tsk. Don’t you have the cooking skills to make stuff in advance? You control the ingredients, it’s more nutritious and it’s a lot cheaper.”

Me: “That requires planning.”

LQ: “Yes…and???”

Well, she did have a point. And we’re getting autumnal weather—cooler and, yesterday, wetter, which cries out for comfort food. So on a whim, during my Saturday shop I picked up ingredients for cottage pie. Yesterday I made up a batch (complete with Keith Richards's flourishes) and portioned it out into five servings. I had one last night and popped four of them into the freezer.

So today I’m grateful that LQ poked me into planning at least a few “emergency provisions” meals. I’ll be even more grateful on the nights I need them.