The Crazy Man doesn't like being made to do any work or produce results. On the other hand he doesn't like it when people don't follow rules, and will usually pursue rule-breaking to the exclusion of all else. Another manager doesn't like following any rules except his own and is something of a control freak. They clash, because neither has the capacity to actually approach the point of contention with anything less than a demand for the other side's complete and unconditional surrender, and promise never to do anything again.
The Crazy Man continues trying (with some justification) to insert himself into some of the other manager's business processes. The other manager tries to retaliate by appropriating all the Crazy Man's related processes, but fails because it's hard for the head of Technical Support to claim with any justification that he should also control Purchasing. The Crazy Man wins and, being the Crazy Man, gloats.
The other manager strikes back by forcibly migrating the Crazy Man and all his staff from their mixture of Eudora, Netscape Mail and other random mail clients to Outlook/Exchange. Most of his admin stuff are just unhappy because it's something new and they don't deal well with "new"; others are unhappy because they're convinced that without their carefully-ordered, decade-old Eudora mailboxes they'll never be able to find any mail ever again. Great anguish ensues.
Moral: nobody wins a war.
06 December, 2005
30 November, 2005
Cow-orker: "It can't possibly work, and I'm already doing it anyway."
I was sent a link to some information about the Noguchi filing system, which I thought looked like something we could use at work as an alternative to chaos and exploding files. I pass it on to the Cow-orker and her workmate, the token human.
"I'm already doing exactly this with my manila folder collection on my desk," she responds. To which she could have added "Except they're in no discernible order and I don't tell anyone that they're there."
(Her manila folder collection is a fearsome sight - two magazine holders stuffed full of folders containing randomly assorted collections of paperwork, some of it dating back two or three years. Only she knows what she has in there, or why).
Then she realises that the Noguchi system means that there needs to be some kind of consistency, discipline and cooperation with others underpinning the whole thing (which, obviously, is what makes it a system rather than simply a random collection of manila folders kept on someone's desk because it's more convenient than putting them away) and clearly that can't be tolerated.
"It won't work for us," she says, and begins grasping at straws as to why the existing "system" can't be tampered with. None of the arguments are particularly convincing, and most don't seem to be based on anything that Noguchi actually proposes.
And then she concludes with what she considers the knockout blow: "If we all got hit by a bus and someone new had to take over, how would they find anything?"
"The same way they'd find anything in your manila folders, I expect. Except, you know, this system would be documented so that people would know how it worked."
She flounders for a moment, and then decides to pre-emptively blame the Token Human for the inevitable failure of the Noguchi system if it was ever introduced here. "He'd never be able to stick to it," says Miss Keep-stuffing-the-files-until-they-explode who, ten years on, is still struggling with the concept that filing stuff electronically doesn't begin and end with dumping randomly-named files into a single directory.
"I'm already doing exactly this with my manila folder collection on my desk," she responds. To which she could have added "Except they're in no discernible order and I don't tell anyone that they're there."
(Her manila folder collection is a fearsome sight - two magazine holders stuffed full of folders containing randomly assorted collections of paperwork, some of it dating back two or three years. Only she knows what she has in there, or why).
Then she realises that the Noguchi system means that there needs to be some kind of consistency, discipline and cooperation with others underpinning the whole thing (which, obviously, is what makes it a system rather than simply a random collection of manila folders kept on someone's desk because it's more convenient than putting them away) and clearly that can't be tolerated.
"It won't work for us," she says, and begins grasping at straws as to why the existing "system" can't be tampered with. None of the arguments are particularly convincing, and most don't seem to be based on anything that Noguchi actually proposes.
And then she concludes with what she considers the knockout blow: "If we all got hit by a bus and someone new had to take over, how would they find anything?"
"The same way they'd find anything in your manila folders, I expect. Except, you know, this system would be documented so that people would know how it worked."
She flounders for a moment, and then decides to pre-emptively blame the Token Human for the inevitable failure of the Noguchi system if it was ever introduced here. "He'd never be able to stick to it," says Miss Keep-stuffing-the-files-until-they-explode who, ten years on, is still struggling with the concept that filing stuff electronically doesn't begin and end with dumping randomly-named files into a single directory.
22 November, 2005
Cow-orker: Told you so
The Cow-orker rang me last week to tell me that she was about to repeat a task I did a year ago (organising approval for a demo CD containing free and evaluation versions of software), and to see what advice I could give her about how to proceed.
What she obviously wanted me to tell her was that she didn't have to do anything and could just give blanket approval for everything. What I told her was that she'd need to check to make sure none of the conditions had changed.
"Okay, so for this one I just need to ring the people we buy it from locally?"
"No, you'll have to contact the overseas publishers of that software and see what their distribution terms are."
"But I don't want to do that. The deadline is really tight, and I'd rather talk to someone I like who works for a third party that isn't allowed to make that kind of decision. I know I asked for your advice, but because I don't like what I'm hearing, I'll ignore it and do my own thing."
(It's funny - any other time you have to beat her with a stick to stop her talking to strangers, but as soon as she has to actually find out some information from them (and especially if it involves putting something in writing) she'll move heaven and earth to avoid having to do so. But I'm only passing through - so I keep telling myself - and it's no skin off my nose if she wants to bugger around).
"Suit yourself," I tell her.
That was a week ago, and a reply just came through from someone she likes who works for a third party that isn't allowed to make that kind of decision. They tell her almost exactly that, and then suggest she does what I told her a week ago.
That distant huffing sound you hear is the Cow-orker hyper-ventilating because this means she's just lost a week from the very tight deadline.
What she obviously wanted me to tell her was that she didn't have to do anything and could just give blanket approval for everything. What I told her was that she'd need to check to make sure none of the conditions had changed.
"Okay, so for this one I just need to ring the people we buy it from locally?"
"No, you'll have to contact the overseas publishers of that software and see what their distribution terms are."
"But I don't want to do that. The deadline is really tight, and I'd rather talk to someone I like who works for a third party that isn't allowed to make that kind of decision. I know I asked for your advice, but because I don't like what I'm hearing, I'll ignore it and do my own thing."
(It's funny - any other time you have to beat her with a stick to stop her talking to strangers, but as soon as she has to actually find out some information from them (and especially if it involves putting something in writing) she'll move heaven and earth to avoid having to do so. But I'm only passing through - so I keep telling myself - and it's no skin off my nose if she wants to bugger around).
"Suit yourself," I tell her.
That was a week ago, and a reply just came through from someone she likes who works for a third party that isn't allowed to make that kind of decision. They tell her almost exactly that, and then suggest she does what I told her a week ago.
That distant huffing sound you hear is the Cow-orker hyper-ventilating because this means she's just lost a week from the very tight deadline.
17 November, 2005
Cow-orker: Careless Talk II
Talking to the Crazy Man. I mention that we might soon be accessing our primary database through a different system (one that has an unenviable reputation for being a little less than reliable). He seems surprised. The Cow-orker was e-mailing me back at Death Spiral to complain about it, so I figured he must have heard about it. Apparently not.
I fill him in. According to the Cow-orker, our database has to be migrated to another system and we're to be given no choice about it because two other section heads have said so. Quite what these two have to do with it isn't actually clear, though, and the Crazy Man wonders how they got involved. The poor man. He really doesn't seem to know.
"The Cow-orker told them we were doing some development work on the database."
"Why would she do that? It's got nothing to do with them!"
I shrug helplessly.
He clutches his head in the traditional gesture of pain*. "God, I'm going to have to talk to her about this, aren't I?"
*(Clutching of the head is a gesture my former manager used to perform a lot when trying to understand the Cow-orker's motives. The Crazy Man has developed the same tendency independently after managing the Cow-orker for the last six months. At first I thought it was some kind of ritual gesture used by managers to ward off evil spirits, but it's hard to see how a ritual could survive in the face of such obvious and consistent failure. Now I figure it's just a reflex action, because curling into a fetal position is too socially awkward).
I fill him in. According to the Cow-orker, our database has to be migrated to another system and we're to be given no choice about it because two other section heads have said so. Quite what these two have to do with it isn't actually clear, though, and the Crazy Man wonders how they got involved. The poor man. He really doesn't seem to know.
"The Cow-orker told them we were doing some development work on the database."
"Why would she do that? It's got nothing to do with them!"
I shrug helplessly.
He clutches his head in the traditional gesture of pain*. "God, I'm going to have to talk to her about this, aren't I?"
*(Clutching of the head is a gesture my former manager used to perform a lot when trying to understand the Cow-orker's motives. The Crazy Man has developed the same tendency independently after managing the Cow-orker for the last six months. At first I thought it was some kind of ritual gesture used by managers to ward off evil spirits, but it's hard to see how a ritual could survive in the face of such obvious and consistent failure. Now I figure it's just a reflex action, because curling into a fetal position is too socially awkward).
Cow-orker: Careless Talk I
The Cow-orker's been asking me if I'd consider applying for the position of token human if her current colleague gets a job elsewhere. She's had trouble accepting that I might not leap at the opportunity, and I've been trying to explain that I'd have to think long and hard (and be a lot closer to poverty than I currently am) before I'd come back to deal with exactly the same stuff I've already walked away from once this year. She struggles with the concept.
I could have simplified things by telling her that I couldn't face dealing with her on a daily (hourly!) basis again, but I need to work with her intermittently over the next few weeks and there's no point making things harder for myself.
Besides, she'd probably think I was joking.
Jump to this morning. The phone rings. For a change it's not the Cow-orker. Instead it's my ex-manager. We chat briefly, and then:
"What have you been telling the Cow-orker, by the way?"
"As little as possible, really. Why?"
"Because she's been telling people you're not interested in working anywhere in this division ever again."
I could have simplified things by telling her that I couldn't face dealing with her on a daily (hourly!) basis again, but I need to work with her intermittently over the next few weeks and there's no point making things harder for myself.
Besides, she'd probably think I was joking.
Jump to this morning. The phone rings. For a change it's not the Cow-orker. Instead it's my ex-manager. We chat briefly, and then:
"What have you been telling the Cow-orker, by the way?"
"As little as possible, really. Why?"
"Because she's been telling people you're not interested in working anywhere in this division ever again."
10 November, 2005
Communication Problems
Life under the Crazy Man:
"This person wants a copy of these documents. If I mail them through to you, can you mail them through to her?"
I'm sure I can, but what's the point? It's not like he's actually saving himself any work here. In fact, given that he's been incapable of getting my e-mail address right for the last three days* and has to resend the documents twice, he's actually making extra work for himself.
* Discussion of e-mail addresses went something like this:
"Use this address. That one doesn't work."
"But it should, so I'll use it."
"It should, but it doesn't. Use this one instead."
"I'll use the one that should work."
[pause]
"Have you got it yet?"
"No. Did you send it to the address that works?"
"I sent it to the address that should work. Oh, wait, I've just gotten an 'undeliverable' message from the mail server."
"That would be because that address doesn't work."
"But it should..."
Repeat ad infinitum.
So now his mail software has the wrong address tucked away in its auto-complete list, and he keeps choosing it instead of the correct address, and wondering why a) I don't get his e-mails, and b) why he keeps getting 'undeliverable' messages.
"This person wants a copy of these documents. If I mail them through to you, can you mail them through to her?"
I'm sure I can, but what's the point? It's not like he's actually saving himself any work here. In fact, given that he's been incapable of getting my e-mail address right for the last three days* and has to resend the documents twice, he's actually making extra work for himself.
* Discussion of e-mail addresses went something like this:
"Use this address. That one doesn't work."
"But it should, so I'll use it."
"It should, but it doesn't. Use this one instead."
"I'll use the one that should work."
[pause]
"Have you got it yet?"
"No. Did you send it to the address that works?"
"I sent it to the address that should work. Oh, wait, I've just gotten an 'undeliverable' message from the mail server."
"That would be because that address doesn't work."
"But it should..."
Repeat ad infinitum.
So now his mail software has the wrong address tucked away in its auto-complete list, and he keeps choosing it instead of the correct address, and wondering why a) I don't get his e-mails, and b) why he keeps getting 'undeliverable' messages.
07 November, 2005
Cow-orker: Green Thumb ... of Death!
The Cow-orker's pot plant looks even worse. Half of the remains had to be cut away because it had been nuked so thoroughly that some parts that hadn't been charred were starting to rot, some of the green stems fell off when my old manager touched them to see whether they felt as much like perished rubber as they looked, and the final two leaves are hanging at a thirty degree angle with the only parts that aren't slowly curling up being the bits that were turned into pure carbon by the Cow-orker's chemical warfare attack.
She remains optimistic, however, that the half-dozen green stems ending in cauterised stumps will shoot forth new leaves. Any day now...
She remains optimistic, however, that the half-dozen green stems ending in cauterised stumps will shoot forth new leaves. Any day now...
01 November, 2005
Once more unto the breach
And after only a few days away, I've been asked back to my old work yet again - this time for up to several weeks. This time around things may not be quite as much fun: the Cow-orker won't be away on holiday, I'll be working directly under the Crazy Man, and I'll be working in the basement of the building, referred to by all and sundry as The Dungeon due to the concrete walls (painted, at least), near-total lack of natural light, and sepulchral atmosphere.
The things I do to earn a living...
The things I do to earn a living...
28 October, 2005
Loving the smell of napalm in the morning.
The Cow-orker's pot-plant isn't getting any better. My (former) manager prodded a couple of the stalks to see if they were as rubbery as they were starting to look.
They fell off.
They fell off.
26 October, 2005
Random Acts of Cruelty
The Crazy Man has been giving his staff their annual performance reviews (or at least has been reviewing those staff he can't palm off on somebody else). Then it comes time to review an individual that has occasionally filled the role of Backup Cow-orker. The BCO is a very earnest, easily-stressed individual who always seems to be operating several feet out of his depth.
Crazy Man: "Your communication skills need some work. You have a problem with oral communication."
BCO : "What kind of a problem?"
Crazy Man: "I'm not going to tell you, because then you might guess who told me you had a problem."
BCO: "So what can I do?"
Crazy Man: "I think you should talk to people and ask them what your problem is."
And that's the Crazy Man's serious and considered opinion. The BCO is now wandering the corridors of the building looking lost, bewildered, and afraid to talk to people because he's been told he has an unspecified oral communication problem.
Crazy Man: "Your communication skills need some work. You have a problem with oral communication."
BCO : "What kind of a problem?"
Crazy Man: "I'm not going to tell you, because then you might guess who told me you had a problem."
BCO: "So what can I do?"
Crazy Man: "I think you should talk to people and ask them what your problem is."
And that's the Crazy Man's serious and considered opinion. The BCO is now wandering the corridors of the building looking lost, bewildered, and afraid to talk to people because he's been told he has an unspecified oral communication problem.
24 October, 2005
Cow-orker: "I woz 'ere."
Ah, dear. Some database testing takes me into the guts of the long-suffering system we use here, and the Cow-orker's not-so-delicate hoof-prints are all over the place.
One-trick functions have been added and given pride of place in the interface, when a moment's thought would have made them actually useful and versatile ... reference data added with random spelling and punctuation ... inconsistent reference data added, so that the organising principle of the database (organisational units name) is replaced by the popular name for an area that doesn't actually match what it is or where it fits within the organisation ... duplication of reference data because she hasn't checked to see whether something's already there.
She's the Godzilla of databases, honestly.
On the bright side she hasn't changed the colour scheme, so I'm no imminent danger of seared retinas or colour-induced brain siezures. Or maybe I just haven't tested the right report yet ...
One-trick functions have been added and given pride of place in the interface, when a moment's thought would have made them actually useful and versatile ... reference data added with random spelling and punctuation ... inconsistent reference data added, so that the organising principle of the database (organisational units name) is replaced by the popular name for an area that doesn't actually match what it is or where it fits within the organisation ... duplication of reference data because she hasn't checked to see whether something's already there.
She's the Godzilla of databases, honestly.
On the bright side she hasn't changed the colour scheme, so I'm no imminent danger of seared retinas or colour-induced brain siezures. Or maybe I just haven't tested the right report yet ...
19 October, 2005
Slappable Clients: The Return
"Hi, I'd just like to check up on the status of an order."
"Sure. Do you have the requisition number handy?"
"Um... No."
"That's okay. Do you know who it was ordered for?"
"Ummm ... No."
"Oh."
"How about I find out some details and call you back?"
Give the man a cigar.
"Sure. Do you have the requisition number handy?"
"Um... No."
"That's okay. Do you know who it was ordered for?"
"Ummm ... No."
"Oh."
"How about I find out some details and call you back?"
Give the man a cigar.
18 October, 2005
Cow-orker: Scorched Earth Special
Hmm. Doesn't look too bad from back here. If you don't count the lack of foliage, that is...
Looking a little the worse for wear up close, though. And aren't plants supposed to be green, not black?
Scorched Earth goodness.
Sadly there are no "before" shots to show just how little of this plant survived the chemical bombing.
Looking a little the worse for wear up close, though. And aren't plants supposed to be green, not black?
Scorched Earth goodness.
Sadly there are no "before" shots to show just how little of this plant survived the chemical bombing.
17 October, 2005
Cow-orker: In the absence of light...
... the Cow-orker, rather than darkness, prevails. Or so it seems.
The dreaded Forms directory (Enter the Cow-orker, 21/7/2004), where all useful information goes to languish in obscurity when the Cow-orker has anything to do with it, has bloated in my absence. The Cow-orker's request to purchase a gel-filled wrist-rest for her keyboard sits alongside quotes and business cases worth tens of thousands of dollars, because it's easier to dump everything into one location than sort and file it where it belongs and might be of use.
She also still seems to be struggling with the idea of turning on junk-mail filters. Her Inbox just from the last few days is filled with spam, a goodly proportion of it addressed to The Spouse. Maybe she's saving it for him to read, or she's worried that she'll miss out on that one magic e-mail that turns out not to be a con?
And someone appears to have been filing work-emails in the Junk Mail folder rather than simply deleting them outright if they're not needed, or putting them someplace sensible. I don't even think that some of these have been acted on. I don't know whether the Primary or Secondary Cow-orker is the likeliest suspect in this instance, though.
Coincidentally (not!) one of the filing cabinets appears to have suffered a hernia from being crammed full of paper.
The dreaded Forms directory (Enter the Cow-orker, 21/7/2004), where all useful information goes to languish in obscurity when the Cow-orker has anything to do with it, has bloated in my absence. The Cow-orker's request to purchase a gel-filled wrist-rest for her keyboard sits alongside quotes and business cases worth tens of thousands of dollars, because it's easier to dump everything into one location than sort and file it where it belongs and might be of use.
She also still seems to be struggling with the idea of turning on junk-mail filters. Her Inbox just from the last few days is filled with spam, a goodly proportion of it addressed to The Spouse. Maybe she's saving it for him to read, or she's worried that she'll miss out on that one magic e-mail that turns out not to be a con?
And someone appears to have been filing work-emails in the Junk Mail folder rather than simply deleting them outright if they're not needed, or putting them someplace sensible. I don't even think that some of these have been acted on. I don't know whether the Primary or Secondary Cow-orker is the likeliest suspect in this instance, though.
Coincidentally (not!) one of the filing cabinets appears to have suffered a hernia from being crammed full of paper.
Cow-orker: the magic begins again
Haven't got a login to any PCs or the network yet, but that's okay - the Cow-orker didn't change her username or password in all the years I worked with her, and there's no reason to assume she's done so now, and ....
... I'm in!
[Full screen desktop wallpaper depicting The Spawn in all its naked glory]
I'm out!
(Fortunately she hasn't changed the username or password for the generic login, either, nor has she customised the desktop this time around).
The Cow-orker had a thing for pot plants in the office, and whenever one was moved to a new area or out of her direct sight she'd loom over the people nearest it and lecture them on how to take care of it. She'd follow this up with periodic checks to see how her fellow members of the vegetable kingdom were going, lecturing people again if they'd been remiss.
Then she went upstairs to Marketing and left behind the only remaining pot plant she'd still been able to consider hers (because the Marketing Shrew wouldn't let her have enough real estate to fit it in). When her replacement came on board she lectured him and made him promise to water it regularly and take care of it. He kind of did, and despite one or two brown leaves and the occasional bout of wilting when it went a fortnight without water, the plant survived her absence.
(I'd suspect the Cow-orker of slipping down sometimes when no-one was around and watering it, but it's out of character for her to do something inconspicuously).
Then I went away, she came back and so on.
Last week she decided the plant wasn't looking as good as it could have. Thankfully she didn't try talking to it, but she did decide that giving it some fertiliser was a good idea. And perhaps it even was.
What wasn't a good idea was just flinging handfuls of fertiliser powder straight onto the plant so that the powder coated its leaves and stems, and then just leaving it.
It looks like someone's napalmed it. There are only two leaves left, both of which are more brownish-black than green. They were the lucky ones. The rest simply burned black and died, before the poor plant was rushed outside and washed down to remove the rest of the powder before it withered the whole plant. The dead and blackened leaves were trimmed off by the Cow-orker's human workmate, and now the once-healthy pot plant consists of two half-burned leaves and a little over half-a-dozen green, decapitated stalks.
The Cow-orker: Agent Orange for the 21st Century.
... I'm in!
[Full screen desktop wallpaper depicting The Spawn in all its naked glory]
I'm out!
(Fortunately she hasn't changed the username or password for the generic login, either, nor has she customised the desktop this time around).
The Cow-orker had a thing for pot plants in the office, and whenever one was moved to a new area or out of her direct sight she'd loom over the people nearest it and lecture them on how to take care of it. She'd follow this up with periodic checks to see how her fellow members of the vegetable kingdom were going, lecturing people again if they'd been remiss.
Then she went upstairs to Marketing and left behind the only remaining pot plant she'd still been able to consider hers (because the Marketing Shrew wouldn't let her have enough real estate to fit it in). When her replacement came on board she lectured him and made him promise to water it regularly and take care of it. He kind of did, and despite one or two brown leaves and the occasional bout of wilting when it went a fortnight without water, the plant survived her absence.
(I'd suspect the Cow-orker of slipping down sometimes when no-one was around and watering it, but it's out of character for her to do something inconspicuously).
Then I went away, she came back and so on.
Last week she decided the plant wasn't looking as good as it could have. Thankfully she didn't try talking to it, but she did decide that giving it some fertiliser was a good idea. And perhaps it even was.
What wasn't a good idea was just flinging handfuls of fertiliser powder straight onto the plant so that the powder coated its leaves and stems, and then just leaving it.
It looks like someone's napalmed it. There are only two leaves left, both of which are more brownish-black than green. They were the lucky ones. The rest simply burned black and died, before the poor plant was rushed outside and washed down to remove the rest of the powder before it withered the whole plant. The dead and blackened leaves were trimmed off by the Cow-orker's human workmate, and now the once-healthy pot plant consists of two half-burned leaves and a little over half-a-dozen green, decapitated stalks.
The Cow-orker: Agent Orange for the 21st Century.
14 October, 2005
Back to the house of pain
The phone rings. It's my manager from my old, pre-Death Spiral job. The Cow-orker is going on annual leave for a couple of weeks. How do I feel about filling in while she's gone?
(Presumably not as a cow-orker, but I'm willing to get liquored-up at the start of the day and lurch mindlessly and incoherently through the day if that's what they want.)
I take a couple of minutes to think it over. I'll get paid casual rates, the Cow-orker won't be there (but I'll bet she either makes a special visit, or rings every second day to see what's happening), and I'll only have to deal with the Crazy Man and the Secondary Cow-orker ... how bad can it be?
We shall see. I start on Monday.
(Presumably not as a cow-orker, but I'm willing to get liquored-up at the start of the day and lurch mindlessly and incoherently through the day if that's what they want.)
I take a couple of minutes to think it over. I'll get paid casual rates, the Cow-orker won't be there (but I'll bet she either makes a special visit, or rings every second day to see what's happening), and I'll only have to deal with the Crazy Man and the Secondary Cow-orker ... how bad can it be?
We shall see. I start on Monday.
06 October, 2005
Housekeeping
No, that's not what I'm doing with myself at the moment. Well, not entirely.
New posts
There are odds and ends of things (mostly from Project Death Spiral) that for various reasons I didn't get around to posting here. As I retrieve these from old e-mails or wake up screaming in the night when hidden memories bubble to the surface I'll put them here.
Spam
The spam's getting annoying. I could turn on Blogger's 'word verification' feature to (hopefully) counter a lot of the automatic spam Blunt Trauma seems to attract, but it looks like it will be a pain for people wanting to leave legitimate comments (I'd find it annoying if I had to go through it, anyway). If you're not sure what word verification is, have a look here. If you really don't want to go through this step to leave a comment, let me know and I won't enable it.
Otherwise, if no-one cares one way or the other, or I get no answers at all (or if the answers I do get are all spam) then I'll switch this on and save myself the trouble of going in and deleting spam comments.
What am I doing now?
Not a great deal. Fortunately when I left my last job, I had a large enough payout for my unused annual leave (or, as I prefer to think of it, my consolation prize for taking part in Survivor: Cow-orker) that finding work immediately isn't something I need to worry about for a little while yet. So I can take my time looking at what's around, see what I'm interested in (somehow get through the selection process!) ... and probably still end up working for madmen alongside a collection of sociopaths and lunatics.
New posts
There are odds and ends of things (mostly from Project Death Spiral) that for various reasons I didn't get around to posting here. As I retrieve these from old e-mails or wake up screaming in the night when hidden memories bubble to the surface I'll put them here.
Spam
The spam's getting annoying. I could turn on Blogger's 'word verification' feature to (hopefully) counter a lot of the automatic spam Blunt Trauma seems to attract, but it looks like it will be a pain for people wanting to leave legitimate comments (I'd find it annoying if I had to go through it, anyway). If you're not sure what word verification is, have a look here. If you really don't want to go through this step to leave a comment, let me know and I won't enable it.
Otherwise, if no-one cares one way or the other, or I get no answers at all (or if the answers I do get are all spam) then I'll switch this on and save myself the trouble of going in and deleting spam comments.
What am I doing now?
Not a great deal. Fortunately when I left my last job, I had a large enough payout for my unused annual leave (or, as I prefer to think of it, my consolation prize for taking part in Survivor: Cow-orker) that finding work immediately isn't something I need to worry about for a little while yet. So I can take my time looking at what's around, see what I'm interested in (somehow get through the selection process!) ... and probably still end up working for madmen alongside a collection of sociopaths and lunatics.
Death Spiral Retrospective: undefined
PMv1 has returned to take over Death Spiral following the departure of Sluggo, and is having a meeting with me and my minion. To try and cut corners (or as he prefers to think of it, get Death Spiral back to his original vision and still meet an arbitrary deadline he's come up with) he's hit upon a solution that's been available from the start but has consistently been left alone by everyone (himself included) because the results would tell us nothing about what we really need to know, would probably panic management into going for a needlessly expensive and unnecessary quick-fix solution, and would only lead to us having to do everything over again properly if (when!) Death Spiral finally gets the software it needs to proceed.
"Moreover," we point out, foolishly expecting this to be the clincher, "the results wouldn't even be accurate."
"Define 'accurate'."
Oh. That's not good. "Useful. Not wrong. Something on which we could base informed decisions and make valid recommendations."
"Define 'valid'."
Things deteriorate from there, but by the end of the meeting it seems that the official Project Death Spiral line is that project staff asking for accuracy just aren't seeing the big picture, and what would the people who need to use the Death Spiral on an ongoing basis know anyway?
"Moreover," we point out, foolishly expecting this to be the clincher, "the results wouldn't even be accurate."
"Define 'accurate'."
Oh. That's not good. "Useful. Not wrong. Something on which we could base informed decisions and make valid recommendations."
"Define 'valid'."
Things deteriorate from there, but by the end of the meeting it seems that the official Project Death Spiral line is that project staff asking for accuracy just aren't seeing the big picture, and what would the people who need to use the Death Spiral on an ongoing basis know anyway?
30 September, 2005
Project Death Spiral: the beatings will continue until morale improves
Events seem to have conspired to keep my minion from jumping ship to Brother of Death Spiral (while still giving her a good chunk of BoDS workload) and, to mark the occasion, PMv1 seems to have decided that he'll drive her off anyway by not reading anything she sends him, not reading any project documentation that he hasn't written (because if it's not part of his project plan, then by definition its worthless - and if it repeats what he's already said, it's redundant. I'm surprised he's not running around burning down libraries, really), and then blaming her for not giving clear answers to questions he's incapable of asking because he won't read anything and refuses to come down to The Shed to look at any of the work that's being done (when challenged to do so, his response was "It's not my job to come down to The Shed.").
"Always two there are, no more, no less. A master and an apprentice." Funny, though - I didn't think Yoda was talking about Project Managers.
Clearly Science needs to identify the genes that predispose people to project management and delete them from the gene pool.
I think this came as a timely reminder as to why this is my last day here.
"Always two there are, no more, no less. A master and an apprentice." Funny, though - I didn't think Yoda was talking about Project Managers.
Clearly Science needs to identify the genes that predispose people to project management and delete them from the gene pool.
I think this came as a timely reminder as to why this is my last day here.
28 September, 2005
Project Death Spiral: Mr "Eight Productive Hours"
Another scheduled meeting with PMv1, and this time I enter the Project Office just as he's leaving.
"Oh," he says, "I forgot about your meeting. I was just on my way to another one."
The bugger. He wanted these regular meetings, and they're in his calendar, but he's trying to slip off to another meeting after already keeping me waiting yesterday?
We go inside the project office and whip through my report ("It's all going well"). Personally I wouldn't trust any report from someone on their second-last day who's leaving because they couldn't stand dealing with the project office anymore, but he seems happy enough.
I leave and drop into the refectory on the way to grab a late breakfast to eat at my desk. On my way out, I nearly collide with PMv1 hurrying in to collect his breakfast (his "other meeting", presumably), meaning he was planning to do the same thing today that he did yesterday - ignore his calendar, don't use the Great Whiteboard to note where he's going, and keep people waiting for meetings that he's requested.
Back in The Shed, I mention this to the rest of the Death Spiral team while scrubbing my details off our mini whiteboard (Project Office staff never come down to the sheds if they can help it, but none of use are willing to gamble that they wouldn't do so for the sole purpose of a whiteboard spot-check). The remaining original temp confirms that he used to do exactly the same thing to her all the time when she was team leader on Spawn of Death Spiral, scheduling regular status-update meetings and then turning up late with his breakfast in hand.
The Project Office: inspiring the maximum amount of cynicism with the minimum amount of effort.
"Oh," he says, "I forgot about your meeting. I was just on my way to another one."
The bugger. He wanted these regular meetings, and they're in his calendar, but he's trying to slip off to another meeting after already keeping me waiting yesterday?
We go inside the project office and whip through my report ("It's all going well"). Personally I wouldn't trust any report from someone on their second-last day who's leaving because they couldn't stand dealing with the project office anymore, but he seems happy enough.
I leave and drop into the refectory on the way to grab a late breakfast to eat at my desk. On my way out, I nearly collide with PMv1 hurrying in to collect his breakfast (his "other meeting", presumably), meaning he was planning to do the same thing today that he did yesterday - ignore his calendar, don't use the Great Whiteboard to note where he's going, and keep people waiting for meetings that he's requested.
Back in The Shed, I mention this to the rest of the Death Spiral team while scrubbing my details off our mini whiteboard (Project Office staff never come down to the sheds if they can help it, but none of use are willing to gamble that they wouldn't do so for the sole purpose of a whiteboard spot-check). The remaining original temp confirms that he used to do exactly the same thing to her all the time when she was team leader on Spawn of Death Spiral, scheduling regular status-update meetings and then turning up late with his breakfast in hand.
The Project Office: inspiring the maximum amount of cynicism with the minimum amount of effort.
26 September, 2005
Project Death Spiral: the handover progress status update report
I have a scheduled meeting with PMv1 to deliver the "one-on-one handover progress status update report". And yes, it does indeed take longer to say it than it does to deliver it.
As part of keeping him updated on progress of the handover to my minion (whose defection to Brother of Death Spiral is still on the cards, so this handover process has the potential to be the procedure that just keeps on, uh, proceding). He's missing from the project office when I arrive, so I consult the Great Whiteboard for advice.
Nothing.
I'm not entirely surprised that the Rule of Whiteboard doesn't apply to him, but the temptation to write "AWOL" next to his name is nearly overwhelming, even before our business analyst looks over his cubicle wall and begins urging "Do it! Do it! What have you got to lose?"
When PMv1 arrives (clutching a slightly greasy-looking bag from the refectory), the actual meeting itself lasts less time than it took me to walk to his office, and only a fraction of the time I've spent hanging around waiting for him to turn up. All part of the "eight productive hours a day" that PMv1 urged us all to work towards under his benevolent dictatorship.
As part of keeping him updated on progress of the handover to my minion (whose defection to Brother of Death Spiral is still on the cards, so this handover process has the potential to be the procedure that just keeps on, uh, proceding). He's missing from the project office when I arrive, so I consult the Great Whiteboard for advice.
Nothing.
I'm not entirely surprised that the Rule of Whiteboard doesn't apply to him, but the temptation to write "AWOL" next to his name is nearly overwhelming, even before our business analyst looks over his cubicle wall and begins urging "Do it! Do it! What have you got to lose?"
When PMv1 arrives (clutching a slightly greasy-looking bag from the refectory), the actual meeting itself lasts less time than it took me to walk to his office, and only a fraction of the time I've spent hanging around waiting for him to turn up. All part of the "eight productive hours a day" that PMv1 urged us all to work towards under his benevolent dictatorship.
Project Death Spiral: counting the silverware
Phone rings.
PMv1: "Did Sluggo leave his Project Office laptop down there?"
[check around The Shed]
Me: "No."
PMv1: "How about an empty laptop case?"
[quick check with other Shed occupants]
Me: "No. We didn't know until now he even had a laptop."
PMv1: "Hrrmmpph!"
Scapegoat Factor rising...
PMv1: "Did Sluggo leave his Project Office laptop down there?"
[check around The Shed]
Me: "No."
PMv1: "How about an empty laptop case?"
[quick check with other Shed occupants]
Me: "No. We didn't know until now he even had a laptop."
PMv1: "Hrrmmpph!"
Scapegoat Factor rising...
22 September, 2005
Project Death Spiral: Everything you know is wrong. Again.
Late afternoon meeting with PMv1 yesterday, attended by the only two members of the Death Spiral team available (one's sick, one's temporarily fled the country, and the third refused to come in to work today for fear it would cost him his sanity) wherein we were told that everything we've been told about the project scope over the last three months and worked our tasks around is wrong, because Sluggo never had formal, documented approval for any of the changes he was trying to make to the project plan originally laid down by PMv1.
News to us, certainly, and while it wasn't entirely unexpected that didn't make it anymore welcome. I suspect it was also news to PMv1, who'd said nothing about this at any point beforehand and had probably been looking furiously for a way to reinstate his vision for Death Spiral (i.e. the flawed, arse-about vision which deliberately builds in at least one level of unnecessary and inaccurate work requiring an expensive and inaccurate "quick-fix" solution). Fortunately for him, Sluggo appears to have been constitutionally incapable of producing any actual work, or documenting anything remotely useful or relevant, so it's been very easy to dismiss anyything Sluggo said that PMv1 doesn't agree with.
Of course if he'd done this at any point over the last few months when he still had overall control of Death Spiral and knew what Sluggo was up to, this would have saved everyone a lot of grief and misunderstanding, but then he wouldn't have been able to transform Sluggo into the Universal Scapegoat.
Which now leaves the Death Spiral staff with the task of looking back over three months of work and deciding what fits in with PMv1's reborn vision, what has to be reworked entirely, and what's turned out to be just so much wasted effort.
With, as we discovered at the meeting, PMv1 reviewing the results all the while and telling us we still don't understand and are getting it all wrong. Because it's not about what we want, or what the stakeholders want, or even doing things the right way when reality intrudes - it's all about following his plan.
News to us, certainly, and while it wasn't entirely unexpected that didn't make it anymore welcome. I suspect it was also news to PMv1, who'd said nothing about this at any point beforehand and had probably been looking furiously for a way to reinstate his vision for Death Spiral (i.e. the flawed, arse-about vision which deliberately builds in at least one level of unnecessary and inaccurate work requiring an expensive and inaccurate "quick-fix" solution). Fortunately for him, Sluggo appears to have been constitutionally incapable of producing any actual work, or documenting anything remotely useful or relevant, so it's been very easy to dismiss anyything Sluggo said that PMv1 doesn't agree with.
Of course if he'd done this at any point over the last few months when he still had overall control of Death Spiral and knew what Sluggo was up to, this would have saved everyone a lot of grief and misunderstanding, but then he wouldn't have been able to transform Sluggo into the Universal Scapegoat.
Which now leaves the Death Spiral staff with the task of looking back over three months of work and deciding what fits in with PMv1's reborn vision, what has to be reworked entirely, and what's turned out to be just so much wasted effort.
With, as we discovered at the meeting, PMv1 reviewing the results all the while and telling us we still don't understand and are getting it all wrong. Because it's not about what we want, or what the stakeholders want, or even doing things the right way when reality intrudes - it's all about following his plan.
21 September, 2005
Project Death Spiral: "software that does everything"
A couple of hours down the line, and the "software that does everything" scenario is certainly making unemployment look a lot more attractive.
As the score stands now, our business analyst can't wait to flee (as a matter of principle he doesn't want to terminate his contract, but I think he's reaching a point where he'd gnaw off his own arm rather than sign any extension to it); the last of the original temps is pretty much burned-out from all the changes in direction, backflips and conflicting stories and is waiting for her contract to lapse at the end of the month; my minion might be offered an opportunity to jump ship to Brother of Death Spiral (where they'll at least give her additional training and an opportunity to learn a few more skils in the role they have in mind for her); and, of course, I'm leaving.
In a fortnight's time, the only person left will be the newest temp who's desperate for money but has the least background or familiarity with the ins and outs of Death Spiral.
As the score stands now, our business analyst can't wait to flee (as a matter of principle he doesn't want to terminate his contract, but I think he's reaching a point where he'd gnaw off his own arm rather than sign any extension to it); the last of the original temps is pretty much burned-out from all the changes in direction, backflips and conflicting stories and is waiting for her contract to lapse at the end of the month; my minion might be offered an opportunity to jump ship to Brother of Death Spiral (where they'll at least give her additional training and an opportunity to learn a few more skils in the role they have in mind for her); and, of course, I'm leaving.
In a fortnight's time, the only person left will be the newest temp who's desperate for money but has the least background or familiarity with the ins and outs of Death Spiral.
Project Death Spiral: full speed astern
Death Spiral has been desperately in need of some key software tool since before its inception, and it just hasn't happened. We came close a month ago when our business analyst compiled the specs and documentation needed to put out a Request For Quote, and things seemed like they might happen. Then PMv1 vetoed further progress until he came back from holiday, because he wanted big stakeholder meetings and workshops controlled by the project office rather than individual consultation with stakeholders by our business analyst.
Now PMv1's back, and we had the first big, happy gathering yesterday, where a handful of bewildered stakeholders turned up wondering why there were going through this again. PMv1 didn't attend, but the project manager from Brother of Death Spiral was there and too the opportunity to drop the following bombshell.
"I think we should ignore the fact that Death Spiral has needed this software for ages, and look for a solution that will do everything.
"Oh, and by the way - I've bypassed all you stakeholders and outlined my grand vision to your boss, and he thinks it's a good idea. So whaddya say, team?"
There's the sound of a collective jaw dropping. I look at our business analyst, and he's looking carefully neutral and non-committal. Smart move - I know he's not in favour of the idea, but he has to go back to the Project Office alone after this meeting, where he'll be punished for his treachery.
The BoDS project manager continues.
"So I'm proposing we hijack this RFQ, get Death Spiral's business analyst to work it up into a much bigger, all-encompassing document with expanded specifications, and then we can go out to market with a full tender."
The jaws remain dropped. I'm still watching our business analyst, and the neutral expression cracks long enough for me to see a look of frozen horror on his face as he realises the Project Office plans to extend his contract.
My operational manager speaks up to agree that something that does everything is a fine idea, but he really needs something that does what the Death Spiral software is intended to do now.
"Absolutely," says the BoDS PM, "but the potential is here, now, to make this RFQ into something bigger that will solve all our problems for years to come. That's something worth aiming for, even if it means things take a little longer."
("Taking a little longer" in this case means easily another six months or more. Our business analyst flinches again).
Everyone else in the room is sitting in a stunned silence. Not only isn't this what they'd been expecting to hear, it's only barely in the same hemisphere as the meeting's original topic.
"Do we actually know what this 'everything' that we want to try to do actually is?" asks one stakeholder cautiously.
"Everything that isn't already in Death Spiral's requirements," comes the reply. "What they want is too specific."
"But that's because this was being bought for Death Spiral to meet Death Spiral's needs."
"Well, I've been looking at it, and even though it's got nothing to do with Brother of Death Spiral, I think what I want needs to take priority over what the people involved with Death Spiral may have thought they wanted."
"Whereabouts is PMv1?" asks another. "He's managing Death Spiral - what does he think about this?"
Still dazed with fear, our business analyst answers without thinking. "He wasn't keen to come to - I mean, he had another meeting to go to."
"I've spoken to your boss," the BoDS PM reminds everyone, "and he thinks it's a good idea. So I think we should have our business analyst write an expanded document and get the steering committee to approve it so we can get things underway."
"I think it would be a good idea to let us stakeholders work out whether it's even possible in the first place before derailing Death Spiral yet again," ventures another, rousing himself from a state of deep shock.
"Of course it's possible. How hard can it be to find a software solution that will do everything? I think it's actually quite simple, so it must be. Anyway, I've got another meeting to go to, so I'll talk to you all later after the business analyst has had time to draft a new RFQ."
He breezes out. People sit and look at one another, dumbfounded.
Finally our business analyst breaks the silence. "So, ah, shall we consider the meeting over for now?"
Now PMv1's back, and we had the first big, happy gathering yesterday, where a handful of bewildered stakeholders turned up wondering why there were going through this again. PMv1 didn't attend, but the project manager from Brother of Death Spiral was there and too the opportunity to drop the following bombshell.
"I think we should ignore the fact that Death Spiral has needed this software for ages, and look for a solution that will do everything.
"Oh, and by the way - I've bypassed all you stakeholders and outlined my grand vision to your boss, and he thinks it's a good idea. So whaddya say, team?"
There's the sound of a collective jaw dropping. I look at our business analyst, and he's looking carefully neutral and non-committal. Smart move - I know he's not in favour of the idea, but he has to go back to the Project Office alone after this meeting, where he'll be punished for his treachery.
The BoDS project manager continues.
"So I'm proposing we hijack this RFQ, get Death Spiral's business analyst to work it up into a much bigger, all-encompassing document with expanded specifications, and then we can go out to market with a full tender."
The jaws remain dropped. I'm still watching our business analyst, and the neutral expression cracks long enough for me to see a look of frozen horror on his face as he realises the Project Office plans to extend his contract.
My operational manager speaks up to agree that something that does everything is a fine idea, but he really needs something that does what the Death Spiral software is intended to do now.
"Absolutely," says the BoDS PM, "but the potential is here, now, to make this RFQ into something bigger that will solve all our problems for years to come. That's something worth aiming for, even if it means things take a little longer."
("Taking a little longer" in this case means easily another six months or more. Our business analyst flinches again).
Everyone else in the room is sitting in a stunned silence. Not only isn't this what they'd been expecting to hear, it's only barely in the same hemisphere as the meeting's original topic.
"Do we actually know what this 'everything' that we want to try to do actually is?" asks one stakeholder cautiously.
"Everything that isn't already in Death Spiral's requirements," comes the reply. "What they want is too specific."
"But that's because this was being bought for Death Spiral to meet Death Spiral's needs."
"Well, I've been looking at it, and even though it's got nothing to do with Brother of Death Spiral, I think what I want needs to take priority over what the people involved with Death Spiral may have thought they wanted."
"Whereabouts is PMv1?" asks another. "He's managing Death Spiral - what does he think about this?"
Still dazed with fear, our business analyst answers without thinking. "He wasn't keen to come to - I mean, he had another meeting to go to."
"I've spoken to your boss," the BoDS PM reminds everyone, "and he thinks it's a good idea. So I think we should have our business analyst write an expanded document and get the steering committee to approve it so we can get things underway."
"I think it would be a good idea to let us stakeholders work out whether it's even possible in the first place before derailing Death Spiral yet again," ventures another, rousing himself from a state of deep shock.
"Of course it's possible. How hard can it be to find a software solution that will do everything? I think it's actually quite simple, so it must be. Anyway, I've got another meeting to go to, so I'll talk to you all later after the business analyst has had time to draft a new RFQ."
He breezes out. People sit and look at one another, dumbfounded.
Finally our business analyst breaks the silence. "So, ah, shall we consider the meeting over for now?"
20 September, 2005
Project Death Spiral: carrots away, sticks out
Okay, the real PMv1 has returned. Presumably yesterday's jovial impostor has been dropped into the river to feed the sharks.
First there was the e-mail informing us that if we all do things his way and respect his authoritah then he's sure we can all get along just fine.
"I don't know what you're previous project managers [let's ignore that he was one of them, shall we?] and team leaders have been letting you get away with, but I'll have you know I run a very tight ship and want eight productive hours a day out of all of you!"
Henceforth we're to organise a whiteboard in The Shed on which we're to document all our movements and locations at all times of the day, much to the amusement of our Business Analyst, who is now no longer alone in enduring the whiteboard tyranny. And we'll be checked up on, presumably as part of PMv1's daily eight hours of productive work.
(In fact all we need to do is get some heavy duty cleaner to take off Sluggo's scribbles, where he used permanent marker to write up things he later tried to deny having said in the first place.
Team Death Spiral, pointing at the whiteboard: "It's behind you!"
Sluggo: "Oh, no it's not!"
Team Death Spiral: "Oh, yes it is!"
Sluggo, turning around and looking everywhere but at the whiteboard: "Oh, no it's not!"
Alarums and hi-jinx ensue.)
Now comes a second e-mail, reminding us that we must file all electronic documents relating to Death Spiral in the appropriate directories. Not unreasonable in itself, but he goes on to add (again) that he doesn't know what our previous project managers and team leaders told us, or didn't tell us (and let's just recap - this is Death Spiral's original project manager talking) but there's a very specific way that things must be done, and if we all do exactly what he says then there's no reason we can't all get along just fine.
Just like one big, happy family.
Kind of like the Mansons.
First there was the e-mail informing us that if we all do things his way and respect his authoritah then he's sure we can all get along just fine.
"I don't know what you're previous project managers [let's ignore that he was one of them, shall we?] and team leaders have been letting you get away with, but I'll have you know I run a very tight ship and want eight productive hours a day out of all of you!"
Henceforth we're to organise a whiteboard in The Shed on which we're to document all our movements and locations at all times of the day, much to the amusement of our Business Analyst, who is now no longer alone in enduring the whiteboard tyranny. And we'll be checked up on, presumably as part of PMv1's daily eight hours of productive work.
(In fact all we need to do is get some heavy duty cleaner to take off Sluggo's scribbles, where he used permanent marker to write up things he later tried to deny having said in the first place.
Team Death Spiral, pointing at the whiteboard: "It's behind you!"
Sluggo: "Oh, no it's not!"
Team Death Spiral: "Oh, yes it is!"
Sluggo, turning around and looking everywhere but at the whiteboard: "Oh, no it's not!"
Alarums and hi-jinx ensue.)
Now comes a second e-mail, reminding us that we must file all electronic documents relating to Death Spiral in the appropriate directories. Not unreasonable in itself, but he goes on to add (again) that he doesn't know what our previous project managers and team leaders told us, or didn't tell us (and let's just recap - this is Death Spiral's original project manager talking) but there's a very specific way that things must be done, and if we all do exactly what he says then there's no reason we can't all get along just fine.
Just like one big, happy family.
Kind of like the Mansons.
19 September, 2005
Project Death Spiral: Autopsy
PMv1 is back from holiday today and has begun running through what Sluggo has left behind for him. The meetings begin, and bizarrely he stays in a great mood through all of them as he begins giving his version of the Death Spiral story. Perhaps he's cheerful because he's now found the ultimate scapegoat in Sluggo, someone no-one across the organisation was happy with.
(Scapegoating is a reprehensible practice, to be sure, but in this case I really only find it objectionable in principle).
From the Project Office history of events:
On the other hand, that could be kind of funny...
(Scapegoating is a reprehensible practice, to be sure, but in this case I really only find it objectionable in principle).
From the Project Office history of events:
- Sluggo was regularly told to do one thing, before running off and trying to do the exact opposite;
- Sluggo (apparently) was trying to set me up as his scapegoat to get around having to produce any project deliverable of his own. Nice to know I wasn't the only one who saw that one coming a mile off;
- we humble Shed-dwellers hadn't seen Sluggo's revised project management plan for the simple reason that he'd been told a month ago that the one he'd produced was rubbish, and to do it again - properly! (There's those famous Project Office people skills again);
- Sluggo had been told explicitly what he was supposed to be doing ... but kept shooting off in other directions that usually led to the things we were doing being derailed in favour of what he felt was a priority at that moment (traditionally, Sluggo would then come back a day later and want to put things back the way they'd been);
- things Sluggo was declaring out of scope were, in fact, still very much in scope, always had been, and always would be;
- Sluggo is the new Root Of All Evil on Project Death Spiral.
On the other hand, that could be kind of funny...
15 September, 2005
Project Death Spiral: the customer is always irrelevant
Our long-suffering business analyst (technically he's only been suffering for about six weeks, but it feels longer for him. And he's only halfway through his contract here) has been given further instructions from PMv1 to alter the Request For Quote he's written up for the software Death Spiral needed before it started.
"I'm not happy. You've made too many requirements 'Mandatory'. Make them 'Highly Desirable' instead, so we're not locked into buying something that does what we need it to do."
"These are the needs the stakeholders have identified. I've gone through it with them several times to make sure we're not asking for specifications we don't need."
"Don't care. Get rid of the 'Mandatory' stuff."
So our BA does as he's told - PMv1 is his boss, and it never pays to argue with a sociopath.
And once we've had all the obligatory talk-fests to rehash everything that the stakeholders have already been consulted on, we can then (maybe, depending on how PMv1 interprets the entrails of a sacrificial goat) go out to market for a product that doesn't actually need to do any of the things we need it for in the first place.
Sluggo may be gone, but Death Spiral continues unabated.
"I'm not happy. You've made too many requirements 'Mandatory'. Make them 'Highly Desirable' instead, so we're not locked into buying something that does what we need it to do."
"These are the needs the stakeholders have identified. I've gone through it with them several times to make sure we're not asking for specifications we don't need."
"Don't care. Get rid of the 'Mandatory' stuff."
So our BA does as he's told - PMv1 is his boss, and it never pays to argue with a sociopath.
And once we've had all the obligatory talk-fests to rehash everything that the stakeholders have already been consulted on, we can then (maybe, depending on how PMv1 interprets the entrails of a sacrificial goat) go out to market for a product that doesn't actually need to do any of the things we need it for in the first place.
Sluggo may be gone, but Death Spiral continues unabated.
14 September, 2005
Project Death Spiral: Risk Register Update
[Ed: No, I don't know why this is positioning itself so far down the screen. If you have any thoughts, let me know.]
Risk | Description | Variance |
|---|---|---|
| 25% | Shed swept away in floods, drowning all Project staff | +/- 0% |
| 22% | All Project staff leaving | + 6% |
| 15% | Shed catching fire, incinerating all Project staff | +/- 0% |
| 11% | Successful completion of Project Death Spiral | - 9% |
13 September, 2005
Project Death Spiral: the verdict
He was pushed. From what I gather the exchange went something like this.
Sluggo: "I've accepted a better, higher-paying job elsewhere and I'll be leaving."
Project Office Manager: "Ingrate! You're terminated immediately! Go! Leave! Reprobate!"
Sluggo (via e-mail): "I'm outta here. You all suck."
Sluggo: "I've accepted a better, higher-paying job elsewhere and I'll be leaving."
Project Office Manager: "Ingrate! You're terminated immediately! Go! Leave! Reprobate!"
Sluggo (via e-mail): "I'm outta here. You all suck."
Project Death Spiral: another one bites the dust
Arrive at work this morning after a day off sick, not really looking forward to my morning meeting with Sluggo, and discover on checking my calendar that he's cancelled the meeting (not unusual in itself - he's been doing that a lot lately, usually when PMv1 as said he wants to come along to see how things are going).
Then I check my e-mail and learn that not only has the meeting been cancelled, but he's quit, too.
Woo-hoo! This is the first time Sluggo has managed to make me feel motivated in a good way (as opposed to the "I've got to get out of this place" reaction he usually inspires).
Unsurprisingly, the e-mail in which he announces that he's leaving immediately (for a vastly higher-paying job with a global firm, naturally) was also an exercise in barely-restrained dummy-spitting at what he sees as his mistreatment here.
But the big question remains: did he fall, or was he pushed after last week's "site inspection" shenanigans?
Then I check my e-mail and learn that not only has the meeting been cancelled, but he's quit, too.
Woo-hoo! This is the first time Sluggo has managed to make me feel motivated in a good way (as opposed to the "I've got to get out of this place" reaction he usually inspires).
Unsurprisingly, the e-mail in which he announces that he's leaving immediately (for a vastly higher-paying job with a global firm, naturally) was also an exercise in barely-restrained dummy-spitting at what he sees as his mistreatment here.
But the big question remains: did he fall, or was he pushed after last week's "site inspection" shenanigans?
09 September, 2005
Project Death Spiral: Waiting for Sluggot
The Project Office is still trying to find Sluggo. He still eludes capture. I'll bet they're sorry they didn't tag him with a GPS chip when they still had the chance.
Access Denied
The entire security system for the main building is down, and no-one's swipe cards work anywhere. Except in The Shed. We can still go out and in at will. We just can't go anywhere else.
Like the toilets.
Must be some kind of motivational thing.
Like the toilets.
Must be some kind of motivational thing.
08 September, 2005
"Site inspections, eh?"
The project office is trying to catch up with Sluggo to let him know about the contractor that's leaving. But he hasn't given them his personal mobile number (because then they might be able to find him), so they're ringing around all the places he might be.
They've accepted that he's not hiding down here (they only rang three times to check), and they've tried ringing the sites he's supposedly inspecting for the next two days, but no-one there has seen him either.
Sluggo seems to be working hard to get himself in trouble again. Or else he really does think he's as clever as he keeps telling us he is...
They've accepted that he's not hiding down here (they only rang three times to check), and they've tried ringing the sites he's supposedly inspecting for the next two days, but no-one there has seen him either.
Sluggo seems to be working hard to get himself in trouble again. Or else he really does think he's as clever as he keeps telling us he is...
HR, Sluggo-style
Apparently Sluggo had a brainwave on Monday about how to deal with the upcoming staffing crunch on Project Death Spiral. As yet he doesn't know about yesterday's loss of another contractor, so who knows what plans he'll try hatching then?
The summarised version: Sluggo believes it's a viable option to take one of the Death Spiral veterans off the project and throw them into an operational role for which they have no training and no experience, in order to free up my minion for more project work on her return from her holidays.
And if this leaves us short on experienced staff, why, an inexperienced temp can then be brought in and trained up. It will only take a month or so to get them up to speed, and take up a large chunk of my minion's time.
Possibly he realises how obviously flawed his plan is, because he hasn't actually approached my and my minion's operational manager to see whether he's willing to let Sluggo randomly rearrange his staff to fit around Death Spiral's various brain farts.
The summarised version: Sluggo believes it's a viable option to take one of the Death Spiral veterans off the project and throw them into an operational role for which they have no training and no experience, in order to free up my minion for more project work on her return from her holidays.
And if this leaves us short on experienced staff, why, an inexperienced temp can then be brought in and trained up. It will only take a month or so to get them up to speed, and take up a large chunk of my minion's time.
Possibly he realises how obviously flawed his plan is, because he hasn't actually approached my and my minion's operational manager to see whether he's willing to let Sluggo randomly rearrange his staff to fit around Death Spiral's various brain farts.
07 September, 2005
Negative reinforcement
Ah, good old Sluggo... Leave it to him to remind me of why I'm leaving here.
I wonder if it would be out of line for me to ask him for a detailed breakdown of what Death Spiral activities he has in progress and how he proposes to hand his work over to PMv1, because I'm increasingly concerned about Death Spiral's apparent lack of direction?
By close of business today, naturally, as he is leaving Death Spiral before I am.
(Seriously, demanding that I have stuff to him "by close of business today" is simply laughable when he's planning to spend the rest of the week conducting "site inspections" and not check into The Shed or the Project Office at all. I don't use the word "wanker" often, but in his case I feel its perfectly warranted.)
I wonder if it would be out of line for me to ask him for a detailed breakdown of what Death Spiral activities he has in progress and how he proposes to hand his work over to PMv1, because I'm increasingly concerned about Death Spiral's apparent lack of direction?
By close of business today, naturally, as he is leaving Death Spiral before I am.
(Seriously, demanding that I have stuff to him "by close of business today" is simply laughable when he's planning to spend the rest of the week conducting "site inspections" and not check into The Shed or the Project Office at all. I don't use the word "wanker" often, but in his case I feel its perfectly warranted.)
Racing the Titanic
One of the contractors is very excited, as she's found another job and starts on Monday. Even more exciting for her, she doesn't have to see Sluggo ever again, as he dropped by this morning to chat and told us that he'll be doing "site inspections" for the next couple of days and will see us for an update meeting next week.
"Site inspections" seem to be what he does when he has enough of working up in the Project Office and runs out of pretexts on which to come down to The Shed. Instead he announces that he's off to inspect one of the sites related to the other two projects he's managing.
(Although he's said recently that one of these has been shelved for the moment, so you'd think that would cut down on the sites he needs to inspect. And he spent a lot of time inspecting sites last week, too, come to think of it. Funny, too, that these always seem to take place shortly after lunch...)
But anyway, this means that three weeks from now, Death Spiral will be manned by my minion (freshly returned from holidays with no idea of what she's walking into), one contractor of (by then) four weeks' experience, and (possibly) the sole remaining original contractor (now more convinced than ever that she needs to find an escape route). Somewhere in the background our poor business analyst will no doubt be undergoing some esoteric form of torture in the depths of the Project Office for being efficient.
And managing it all will be PMv1, he of the many dodgy initial decisions, staunch advocate of multiple meetings and workshops, and fierce opponent of talking to stakeholders.
At least there's still time to rearrange the deckchairs.
"Site inspections" seem to be what he does when he has enough of working up in the Project Office and runs out of pretexts on which to come down to The Shed. Instead he announces that he's off to inspect one of the sites related to the other two projects he's managing.
(Although he's said recently that one of these has been shelved for the moment, so you'd think that would cut down on the sites he needs to inspect. And he spent a lot of time inspecting sites last week, too, come to think of it. Funny, too, that these always seem to take place shortly after lunch...)
But anyway, this means that three weeks from now, Death Spiral will be manned by my minion (freshly returned from holidays with no idea of what she's walking into), one contractor of (by then) four weeks' experience, and (possibly) the sole remaining original contractor (now more convinced than ever that she needs to find an escape route). Somewhere in the background our poor business analyst will no doubt be undergoing some esoteric form of torture in the depths of the Project Office for being efficient.
And managing it all will be PMv1, he of the many dodgy initial decisions, staunch advocate of multiple meetings and workshops, and fierce opponent of talking to stakeholders.
At least there's still time to rearrange the deckchairs.
Project Death Spiral: grenade without a pin
I break the news to Sluggo that I'm leaving. His reaction is not what I'd expected - I expected he'd mutter and curse for a while because of the impact on Project Death Spiral. Instead he seems excited and happy, and I don't think it's just because he'll be rid of me in a few weeks, because he's not that good an actor. He's positively effusive in telling me what a smart decision it is to get away from here, how it's the best thing I could do, etc etc...
He actually manages to sound sincere. I'm impressed. I didn't think he was capable of that.
And then, almost as an aside, it becomes clear. Sluggo's relationship with PMv1 has been deteriorating steadily (strangely it started to degenerate around the same time Sluggo produced and circulated a document in which he laid the blame for all of Death Spiral's woes at the feet of PMv1), and in a couple of weeks' time Sluggo is handing back control of Death Spiral to PMv1.
So Sluggo wants to hand PMv1 as big a mess as possible, as long as he can't be held personally accountable for it.
What a freakshow I'm working in.
He actually manages to sound sincere. I'm impressed. I didn't think he was capable of that.
And then, almost as an aside, it becomes clear. Sluggo's relationship with PMv1 has been deteriorating steadily (strangely it started to degenerate around the same time Sluggo produced and circulated a document in which he laid the blame for all of Death Spiral's woes at the feet of PMv1), and in a couple of weeks' time Sluggo is handing back control of Death Spiral to PMv1.
So Sluggo wants to hand PMv1 as big a mess as possible, as long as he can't be held personally accountable for it.
What a freakshow I'm working in.
06 September, 2005
Project Death Spiral: "It ate that one girl's brain!"
Muah-hah. The new temp that Sluggo brought on with a view to replacing me on the process documentation just sat down with me to go through the processes and the implementation plan I'd been struggling with.
It wasn't so much a learning curve for her as a concrete wall on the runway.
"But you can't do any of this stuff until you cover the basics first. And we're still waiting to do the basics!"
"Well, yes. That's what the rest of us have been trying to tell you since you started."
"But ... none of this makes sense. It's all the wrong way around! You can't do things this way!"
"Yes, we've been saying that, too."
"But ... stupid. It's all so stupid. And full of holes. Hasn't anyone noticed?"
"Well we've all noticed, and it's been pointed out."
"How can you make any progress, working like that?"
"We pointed that out, too."
"Urgh ... brain hurts ... can't think anymore ... why???"
"The project office wanted to go ahead anyway."
"Please ... no more ... brain aneurism ... aarrrrgghhhh"
- THUD -
Another one for the slow learner's class, it seems.
It wasn't so much a learning curve for her as a concrete wall on the runway.
"But you can't do any of this stuff until you cover the basics first. And we're still waiting to do the basics!"
"Well, yes. That's what the rest of us have been trying to tell you since you started."
"But ... none of this makes sense. It's all the wrong way around! You can't do things this way!"
"Yes, we've been saying that, too."
"But ... stupid. It's all so stupid. And full of holes. Hasn't anyone noticed?"
"Well we've all noticed, and it's been pointed out."
"How can you make any progress, working like that?"
"We pointed that out, too."
"Urgh ... brain hurts ... can't think anymore ... why???"
"The project office wanted to go ahead anyway."
"Please ... no more ... brain aneurism ... aarrrrgghhhh"
- THUD -
Another one for the slow learner's class, it seems.
Cow-orker: my own personal Category 5 storm
Bloody hell... I've been trapped on the phone by the Cow-orker for the last twenty minutes as she tries to cajole me into remembering the fine details of an 8,500 unit order from 15 months ago.
I try explaining that I placed the order well over a year ago and my memory of the details is hazy. For some reason she doesn't believe me. In fact she tries to argue that it really wasn't that long ago at all, even through the purchase order she's looking is clearly dated June 2004. I know that for a fact because I made her read it out to me, and she still tries to convince me that I was exaggerating the length of time that had elapsed. Argh. It's a miracle my eye hasn't started twitching.
"I'm sure a mistake was made," she repeats for the fiftieth time as she describes (in Cow-orker terms, of course) all the steps she's taken to query a database system I haven't used in four months. "I need to know about 900 of those units - can you remember who out of the 200-odd clients covered on that order these ones were ordered for?"
It's a struggle to convince her that I can't. She seems to be set against believing that I can't just give her all the answers to the questions she's asking.
You can probably tell just how much meaningful input I've been able to have in this conversation by the fact that I've been typing this one-handed while she babbles away on the other end.
On the bright side it's been a glowing reminder as to why it would be so terribly foolish to apply for any jobs back at my old work...
I try explaining that I placed the order well over a year ago and my memory of the details is hazy. For some reason she doesn't believe me. In fact she tries to argue that it really wasn't that long ago at all, even through the purchase order she's looking is clearly dated June 2004. I know that for a fact because I made her read it out to me, and she still tries to convince me that I was exaggerating the length of time that had elapsed. Argh. It's a miracle my eye hasn't started twitching.
"I'm sure a mistake was made," she repeats for the fiftieth time as she describes (in Cow-orker terms, of course) all the steps she's taken to query a database system I haven't used in four months. "I need to know about 900 of those units - can you remember who out of the 200-odd clients covered on that order these ones were ordered for?"
It's a struggle to convince her that I can't. She seems to be set against believing that I can't just give her all the answers to the questions she's asking.
You can probably tell just how much meaningful input I've been able to have in this conversation by the fact that I've been typing this one-handed while she babbles away on the other end.
On the bright side it's been a glowing reminder as to why it would be so terribly foolish to apply for any jobs back at my old work...
Candid Camera
Sluggo is trying to schedule recurring weekly appointments with me. Apparently no-one's told him yet that I'm leaving. It feels like one of those candid camera episodes where some poor sod is lured in off the street and given some meaningless and humiliating task to do while the host gloats via voice-over: "Now, what we haven't told him is..."
So the universe appears to have a sense of justice after all. And if it has a sense of humour, too, I'll get to be there when he ends up getting the metaphorical pie in the face.
So the universe appears to have a sense of justice after all. And if it has a sense of humour, too, I'll get to be there when he ends up getting the metaphorical pie in the face.
01 September, 2005
Project Death Spiral: *everybody* needs steenkin' badgers
Introduced The Shed to http://badgerbadgerbadger.com. Now all three contractors have it lodged firmly in their heads, and have had to turn the radio on to stop themselves singing quietly "Badger badger badger" without realising it.
Which is a pity, because before they did that they were doing a lovely job of singing it in rounds.
Which is a pity, because before they did that they were doing a lovely job of singing it in rounds.
One, two, Freddy's coming for you...
Our business analyst, trapped in the Project Office to stop him talking to stakeholders, heard a rumour that one of the senior project managers conducted regular headcounts throughout the day to keep track of the contractors making up the majority of the Project Office staff (one of the quirks of the Project Office is that they advertise for and hire large numbers of contractors with specific fields of expertise ... and then assign them to projects outside of their skill set. The Project Office Manager takes the Dodgeball approach - "If you can manage a project, you can manage anything").
He didn't believe the stories.
Until yesterday, that is, when he noticed the project manager in question slip out of his office and move quietly about the Project Office checking cubicles and counting heads, before returning to the Great Whiteboard and making notes on the "Naughty" and "Nice" list. He repeats the exercise two more times that day, and carries out all the checks again today - once at 8.30am to make sure everyone's in, again shortly after morning tea to make sure that everyone's come back, and then again after lunch.
"I kept my head down and pretended I didn't notice him. I was afraid of what would happen if he saw me watching."
He didn't believe the stories.
Until yesterday, that is, when he noticed the project manager in question slip out of his office and move quietly about the Project Office checking cubicles and counting heads, before returning to the Great Whiteboard and making notes on the "Naughty" and "Nice" list. He repeats the exercise two more times that day, and carries out all the checks again today - once at 8.30am to make sure everyone's in, again shortly after morning tea to make sure that everyone's come back, and then again after lunch.
"I kept my head down and pretended I didn't notice him. I was afraid of what would happen if he saw me watching."
31 August, 2005
"Screw you guys... "
"I'm going home."
I think I'm pretty much done with the Project Office, Project Death Spiral and Sluggo. I didn't survive years of punishment at the hands of the Cow-orker just to wind up working in an environment where "Dance for us, Monkey-boy!" is considered a motivational speech.
I think I'm pretty much done with the Project Office, Project Death Spiral and Sluggo. I didn't survive years of punishment at the hands of the Cow-orker just to wind up working in an environment where "Dance for us, Monkey-boy!" is considered a motivational speech.
30 August, 2005
Pointy-haired thinking
"Hmm..." thinks Sluggo, "if I assign this e-mail I sent earlier as a task, then he'll do it faster than if I just leave it as an e-mail asking for information. He won't mind the same person asking him multiple times for the same information by the same deadline."
Prat.
Prat.
26 August, 2005
And it was such a nice neighbourhood
One of the new occupants of The Shed will be Evil Devito. Presumably they couldn't stand having him indoors anymore.
Their gain is our loss.
Their gain is our loss.
We *will* tell you when the lambs stop screaming
The weekly project meeting drags on while Sluggo tells us about his great and mighty efforts at combatting the evil of the Project Office. One of the contractors amuses herself by doodling on her copy of the minutes, drawing pictures of her puppy. Then the puppy drawing goes horribly wrong ("He looked like Hannibal Lectre!") and she hastily rubs out the sketch after nearly rupturing her lungs trying to contain her laughter every time she looks at it.
"I figured looking bored was okay, but suddenly pissing myself laughing for no reason would be harder to explain."
"I figured looking bored was okay, but suddenly pissing myself laughing for no reason would be harder to explain."
"Join us..."
The Cow-orker has been keeping in touch, and I've been letting her and a few others at my old work know how things have been going.
Now she's trying to convince the Crazy Man that they should try to find a place for me back there, maybe rolling the Secondary Cow-orker (who's been sulking since I left) out of her support position.
"He said he'd see what he could to get you back here," she says encouragingly, "but he's not sure how he'll go."
"Fair enough. I've heard wild horses can be tricky to find at this time of year," I reply.
Now she's trying to convince the Crazy Man that they should try to find a place for me back there, maybe rolling the Secondary Cow-orker (who's been sulking since I left) out of her support position.
"He said he'd see what he could to get you back here," she says encouragingly, "but he's not sure how he'll go."
"Fair enough. I've heard wild horses can be tricky to find at this time of year," I reply.
Chinese Whispers
Another project sharing The Shed has wound up (lucky, lucky bastards) and their desks are now empty.
PMv1 to technician: "I want you to take all the computers off the desks and lock them in that office."
Tech: "What's the point of that, when new people are going to be sitting at these desks next week and I'll just have to set the PCs up all over again?"
PMv1: "Don't question your orders! This is how the Department Head wants things done, and this is how you'll do them?"
Department Head wanders into The Shed a couple of hours later, looks bewildered, and exits to find the technician.
"Why are all the computer's piled up on Marcus's desk?"
Tech: "PMv1 said that's what you wanted done."
Department Head: "Why would I want that done? It's stupid. Put them back."
PMv1 resumes control of Project Death Spiral in around two weeks.
PMv1 to technician: "I want you to take all the computers off the desks and lock them in that office."
Tech: "What's the point of that, when new people are going to be sitting at these desks next week and I'll just have to set the PCs up all over again?"
PMv1: "Don't question your orders! This is how the Department Head wants things done, and this is how you'll do them?"
Department Head wanders into The Shed a couple of hours later, looks bewildered, and exits to find the technician.
"Why are all the computer's piled up on Marcus's desk?"
Tech: "PMv1 said that's what you wanted done."
Department Head: "Why would I want that done? It's stupid. Put them back."
PMv1 resumes control of Project Death Spiral in around two weeks.
Parriah
How to make a contractor feel welcome #127.
Our business analyst came down to a meeting with us. We suspect it will only be a short meeting, but have booked him for a whole hour so that he has the option of not having to return immediately to the project office.
He's appreciative, but explains that it probably doesn't matter: "I have the place to myself. Everybody else has gone off to a morning tea, and I wasn't invited."
Because when you're part of the project office, nothing spoils the appetite more, it seems, than having one of those filthy contractors at the same table.
Our business analyst came down to a meeting with us. We suspect it will only be a short meeting, but have booked him for a whole hour so that he has the option of not having to return immediately to the project office.
He's appreciative, but explains that it probably doesn't matter: "I have the place to myself. Everybody else has gone off to a morning tea, and I wasn't invited."
Because when you're part of the project office, nothing spoils the appetite more, it seems, than having one of those filthy contractors at the same table.
24 August, 2005
The mark of the beast
One contractor points out to the BA that he's not wearing his security tag.
"Don't you have one?"
"I have one. I just don't like wearing it."
"Why not?"
"It makes me feel like I belong. I don't want to belong here."
"Don't you have one?"
"I have one. I just don't like wearing it."
"Why not?"
"It makes me feel like I belong. I don't want to belong here."
Breaking the chain of command
We have a business analyst in at the moment to navigate the Council's labyrinthine purchasing process and prepare specifications for the software that would have made Death Spiral a breeze if the Project Office hadn't decided it made more sense to buy the software two-thirds of the way through rather than at the start when it would have been most advantageous.
But, y'know, if we'd bought it at the start then we wouldn't have had all this triplication of effort and working in the dark, and where would be the fun in that?
Anyway, the BA's done an impressive job so far, and has put together pretty much all the documentation in just over two weeks. He's also upset PMv1 in the process.
This is partly because he didn't use the approved method - he was supposed to hold numerous meetings; kill thousands of trees circulating draft documents that don't get read; and then hold more meetings where people alternate between boredom and fighting with other attendees over who has responsibility for what.
Mostly, though, it's because he was talking to individual stakeholders, identifying their needs, and producing results. And that's just not on.
But, y'know, if we'd bought it at the start then we wouldn't have had all this triplication of effort and working in the dark, and where would be the fun in that?
Anyway, the BA's done an impressive job so far, and has put together pretty much all the documentation in just over two weeks. He's also upset PMv1 in the process.
This is partly because he didn't use the approved method - he was supposed to hold numerous meetings; kill thousands of trees circulating draft documents that don't get read; and then hold more meetings where people alternate between boredom and fighting with other attendees over who has responsibility for what.
Mostly, though, it's because he was talking to individual stakeholders, identifying their needs, and producing results. And that's just not on.
22 August, 2005
A word on Evil Devito
Who is Evil Devito? Maybe this earlier encounter with him will help explain:
Another project manager (who resembles a Sicilian Danny Devito, but without the charm, charisma or humour) lectured me today for half an hour on why Project Death Spiral is irrelevant, making things worse for the City Council, and should be entirely subordinate to his own project (The Grand Project that will make everything right or, alternatively, simply makes everything that conflicts with it redundant).
He then went on to declare himself a Death Spiral stakeholder (more fool him, really), and it was with great pleasure that I gave him PMv2's phone number, with the words: "Here's the man to talk to."
By the time I get back to my desk from the harangue, Evil Devito has already been on the phone with PMv2 and scheduled an appointment. PMv2 is foaming at the mouth in anticipation.
Another project manager (who resembles a Sicilian Danny Devito, but without the charm, charisma or humour) lectured me today for half an hour on why Project Death Spiral is irrelevant, making things worse for the City Council, and should be entirely subordinate to his own project (The Grand Project that will make everything right or, alternatively, simply makes everything that conflicts with it redundant).
He then went on to declare himself a Death Spiral stakeholder (more fool him, really), and it was with great pleasure that I gave him PMv2's phone number, with the words: "Here's the man to talk to."
By the time I get back to my desk from the harangue, Evil Devito has already been on the phone with PMv2 and scheduled an appointment. PMv2 is foaming at the mouth in anticipation.
Damning with faint praise
I'll say this much for Sluggo: he has an amazing knack for annihilating motivation and inspiring the maximum amount of apathy with a single e-mail.
Why he seems to feel the need to send several such e-mails a day remains a mystery, though.
Okay, I've praised Caesar - now can I bury him?
In the cage
A glorious start to the day - the project office has decreed that we must keep the doors of The Shed closed at all times. No idea why, exactly, unless they're afraid someone will come in and steal the hutches, but that's the ruling from the powers that be.
Sluggo is making indignant noises about raising this as a workplace health & safety issue, but it's anyone's guess as to how he expects to make any progress on us having fresh air when we can't get any action on working in a firetrap.
Although perhaps they might take pity on us having to work in an enclosed space with Sluggo...
Sluggo is making indignant noises about raising this as a workplace health & safety issue, but it's anyone's guess as to how he expects to make any progress on us having fresh air when we can't get any action on working in a firetrap.
Although perhaps they might take pity on us having to work in an enclosed space with Sluggo...
18 August, 2005
Project Death Spiral: stealth recruitment
I half-suspect Sluggo has decided to replace me when it comes to dealing with the endless rewrites he wants done to project documentation, something I'm not opposed to in the slightest. However he's going about it in typically underhanded fashion and hoping no-one notices.
What he's done is to hire another contractor, ostensibly to deal with the grunt work. But he's selected one who's ridiclously over-qualified for the level of work she's being asked to do. Now he's started hinting that I should begin showing her some of the project documentation I'm working on, and maybe get her to do a little.
And then a little bit more.
And so on, until we finish with the new contractor being paid grunt wages to perform a higher-level job. Then Sluggo can triumphantly wave around completed documentation and claim to have saved money by utilising existing resources (rather than specifically advertising for someone with the skillset he was really after and paying them accordingly).
What he's done is to hire another contractor, ostensibly to deal with the grunt work. But he's selected one who's ridiclously over-qualified for the level of work she's being asked to do. Now he's started hinting that I should begin showing her some of the project documentation I'm working on, and maybe get her to do a little.
And then a little bit more.
And so on, until we finish with the new contractor being paid grunt wages to perform a higher-level job. Then Sluggo can triumphantly wave around completed documentation and claim to have saved money by utilising existing resources (rather than specifically advertising for someone with the skillset he was really after and paying them accordingly).
Project Death Spiral: absent cats
The project office appears to be missing its upper management today, and the individual project managers (most of them contractors paid on an hourly basis) have celebrated their freedom by scattering to the four winds now that no-one's watching their movements. Sluggo has returned to The Shed (and you can feel the joy in the air when that happens), cheerfully announcing that now he can have an easy day, and that he plans to leave early into the bargain.
And yet he still seems surprised and outraged that the head of the Project Office insists on keeping tabs on where the contractors are and what they're actually doing...
And yet he still seems surprised and outraged that the head of the Project Office insists on keeping tabs on where the contractors are and what they're actually doing...
17 August, 2005
Project Death Spiral: pot, meet kettle
Just discovered that while our document management system is eccentric, it's also treacherously honest about document histories. For example, the two primary documents Sluggo has been telling us he's been working hard at revising for the last two months (but has never seemed to finish, strangely) have only been worked on for about the last two weeks - and intermittently, at that.
So if he's not actually producing any documentation, and not actually reading any of the existing stuff, it makes sense that he's desperate for me to complete a major project document that he can then brandish at people to demonstrate productivity.
What a creature he is...
So if he's not actually producing any documentation, and not actually reading any of the existing stuff, it makes sense that he's desperate for me to complete a major project document that he can then brandish at people to demonstrate productivity.
What a creature he is...
16 August, 2005
Project Death Spiral: in the brig
Project Office admin person came down and was horrified to discover we had The Shed door open.
"But these are supposed to be closed!" and she begins trying to lock us in (confirming my suspicion that The Shed is meant as some form of solitary confinement).
We hurry over to the door to stop her, and try to explain that we keep the door open for ventilation.
"But you have air-conditioners, can't you use them?"
More explanations. We're working in a corrugated iron structure, oriented north-south, with no overhanging shade (except for a couple of palm trees that drop leaf litter into the gutters of the flat roof and cause water to back up inside the ceiling when it rains). The Shed heats up very rapidly, and the air-conditioners (positioned right above people's desks, and we can't move the desks because then we violate The Plan) deafen everyone when they're running at full blast to compensate. On the other hand, simply leaving the door open gives us plenty of airflow, keeps the place cool, the air fresh, and costs no money.
Admin person looks dubious about our motives, but grudgingly concedes that "the door is supposed to remain closed" doesn't really stack up well as a counter-argument and slinks away.
She'll be back, though. Sooner or later they'll either burn us alive, freeze us to death (corrugated iron and no insulation cuts both ways - found that out last week), or bake us at our desks. And if they can't manage that, they'll deafen us.
"But these are supposed to be closed!" and she begins trying to lock us in (confirming my suspicion that The Shed is meant as some form of solitary confinement).
We hurry over to the door to stop her, and try to explain that we keep the door open for ventilation.
"But you have air-conditioners, can't you use them?"
More explanations. We're working in a corrugated iron structure, oriented north-south, with no overhanging shade (except for a couple of palm trees that drop leaf litter into the gutters of the flat roof and cause water to back up inside the ceiling when it rains). The Shed heats up very rapidly, and the air-conditioners (positioned right above people's desks, and we can't move the desks because then we violate The Plan) deafen everyone when they're running at full blast to compensate. On the other hand, simply leaving the door open gives us plenty of airflow, keeps the place cool, the air fresh, and costs no money.
Admin person looks dubious about our motives, but grudgingly concedes that "the door is supposed to remain closed" doesn't really stack up well as a counter-argument and slinks away.
She'll be back, though. Sooner or later they'll either burn us alive, freeze us to death (corrugated iron and no insulation cuts both ways - found that out last week), or bake us at our desks. And if they can't manage that, they'll deafen us.
Project Death Spiral: Of slugs in suits
Just had the meeting with PMv2 that he set up last week. It wasn't as confrontational as I'd been expecting, which made it more productive and less of a trial than I'd feared (which is good) but at the same time it's taken the edge off my sense that I need to flee this madhouse (which is bad).
Clearly I'm too easily mollified and need to work harder at maintaining grudges.
There was a somewhat insincere apology for giving me "a hard time" last week. Apparently he did it for my benefit, because he knew my probation review was coming up and wanted to make sure I produced something that I could show my operational manager. And of course a personal attack cc'ed to me operational manager is just the way to do that. It's possible that this was some fiendishly clever plan on his part to make me look like an innocent victim, but I have trouble buying that one.
I might not be good at holding grudges, but I'm not stupid.
The first half hour covers the useful stuff, including the bombshell that, according to his reading of the project plan, actually doing anything useful with what we discover isn't part of the project scope (i.e. is hard, requires resources, doesn't yield glamorous results), reducing Death Spiral to a level where we just gather data and materials for the sake of it and don't do anything meaningful with it.
Oh, and I need to redraft all the pre-existing project documentation into the approved project office templates, even though the processes need to be documented in their existing format so that they're consistent with QA documentation.
And he didn't actually read most of what I'd written. I know this because he prefaced the meeting with "I haven't read through most of this". He just wanted it to look like the project template and see a couple of dates written down. Doesn't need to know what the dates relate to or whether they're realistic. They just need to be there in the right font.
Then comes the obligatory part of any conversation with PMv2.
Clearly I'm too easily mollified and need to work harder at maintaining grudges.
There was a somewhat insincere apology for giving me "a hard time" last week. Apparently he did it for my benefit, because he knew my probation review was coming up and wanted to make sure I produced something that I could show my operational manager. And of course a personal attack cc'ed to me operational manager is just the way to do that. It's possible that this was some fiendishly clever plan on his part to make me look like an innocent victim, but I have trouble buying that one.
I might not be good at holding grudges, but I'm not stupid.
The first half hour covers the useful stuff, including the bombshell that, according to his reading of the project plan, actually doing anything useful with what we discover isn't part of the project scope (i.e. is hard, requires resources, doesn't yield glamorous results), reducing Death Spiral to a level where we just gather data and materials for the sake of it and don't do anything meaningful with it.
Oh, and I need to redraft all the pre-existing project documentation into the approved project office templates, even though the processes need to be documented in their existing format so that they're consistent with QA documentation.
And he didn't actually read most of what I'd written. I know this because he prefaced the meeting with "I haven't read through most of this". He just wanted it to look like the project template and see a couple of dates written down. Doesn't need to know what the dates relate to or whether they're realistic. They just need to be there in the right font.
Then comes the obligatory part of any conversation with PMv2.
- Talking about all the other projects he's managing and how important they are?
Check. - All was in chaos before he arrived?
Check. - Everything's going well?
Check. - Moaning about HR issues?
Check. - He'd love to see the project through to the end, but thinks he'll be moved on?
Check. - We're doomed?
Check. - Getting confused about what we're doing?
Check. - He's had enough of this project and wants out?
Check. - It's all someone else's fault?
Check. - Swaps roles with someone who pointed out a serious flaw, so that he was the one pointing it out to them, incredulous that they could have missed it?
Check. - It's all everybody else's fault?
Check.
12 August, 2005
How 'bout that weather?
It is indeed a cold day in hell. The outside temperature plummets to a brisk 10 degrees, there are reports of snow in the hinterland and sleet only a few kilometres to the south.
Naturally this is the day someone decides that the lock on The Shed's door needs to be replaced with a card-reader, but no-one organises with Security to have it keyed to our cards. So we can't close the door, because then no-one can open it again.
And we sit in our uninsulated, corrugated metal shed with the wind howling in off the river, and watch our breath steam in the air while we lose feelings in our fingertips.
Naturally this is the day someone decides that the lock on The Shed's door needs to be replaced with a card-reader, but no-one organises with Security to have it keyed to our cards. So we can't close the door, because then no-one can open it again.
And we sit in our uninsulated, corrugated metal shed with the wind howling in off the river, and watch our breath steam in the air while we lose feelings in our fingertips.
Curious side effects
Amazing what total demoralisation can do to reduce muscle tension. I can't see it catching on as relaxation therapy, but then if someone had told me people would one day inject themselves with botulism to smooth out wrinkles I wouldn't have believed them.
I could be on to something.
I could be on to something.
11 August, 2005
Get me out of here
Some impending friction looming with PMv2. He's whingey because I'm not redrafting documentation fast enough for him. I'm cranky because he's not reading what's already there, and because I'm sick of being asked to do stuff that isn't what I signed on for. I schedule a meeting so we can get things sorted out.
He doesn't respond immediately. Curiously also he decides not to attend the project management meeting this afternoon, which is an unusual move for a project manager.
Then I discover why. I come back from the meeting to find a longer, more pompous e-mail (cc'ed to his boss and my operational supervisor, naturally) cataloguing his list of grievances with me and issuing a list of demands, deadlines, and an ultimatum.
Looks like he subscribes to the "beatings will continue until morale improves" school of people skills...
He doesn't respond immediately. Curiously also he decides not to attend the project management meeting this afternoon, which is an unusual move for a project manager.
Then I discover why. I come back from the meeting to find a longer, more pompous e-mail (cc'ed to his boss and my operational supervisor, naturally) cataloguing his list of grievances with me and issuing a list of demands, deadlines, and an ultimatum.
Looks like he subscribes to the "beatings will continue until morale improves" school of people skills...
10 August, 2005
Too many bodies, not enough floorboards
PMv2 gets bored up in the Project Office and comes down to tell us that everything we know is wrong. I don't think he has anyone to talk to up there. I've tuned out much of it (there's the little matter of the Table of Doom that he wants by close of business tomorrow), but he's running in circles trying to explain how he's not really contradicting himself. I think he's developing multiple personalities, because he's having trouble agreeing with himself about anything. I try to ignore him until he says something of interest. My minion foolishly tries to make sense of what he's saying.
PMv2: "We need to start this right now."
Minion: "We can't start this until after we've got authorisation."
PMv2: "That's what I said - we'll start this as soon as we've got authorisation. So can we start this on Monday?"
Minion: "Has it been authorised yet?"
PMv2: "No, but we need to start right away."
... and repeat.
Other news, is that Death Spiral has apparently changed scope yet again. This is one of his justifications for half of what he's saying conflicting with the other half. We're not sure what the scope has changed to, but apparently everything we've done so far has been deemed to be of operational importance, but of no value to the project. We need to concentrate on superficial issues instead (at this point my minion announces with gritted teeth that she has to leave for lunch). And we're not allowed to tell stakeholders that it's a big job and will take time, because they'll get nervous and kill the project.
... and suddenly he realises that no-one in the shed considers this a bad thing anymore, and begins fumbling for other reasons as to why we should lie to the stakeholders. Because hiding the truth from them worked so well through the first eight months of Death Spiral's life.
His fallback position is to complain about the problems he's having dealing with HR issues that shouldn't be his problem to deal with. They're not our problem, either, nor is the fact that he has a problem with them not being his problem. But now they can be our problem, too, because on Project Death Spiral a problem shared is a problem multiplied. No problem.
By the time he leaves he's successfully prevented any work getting done for nearly and hour and a half ... the second time he's done that this week.
PMv2: "We need to start this right now."
Minion: "We can't start this until after we've got authorisation."
PMv2: "That's what I said - we'll start this as soon as we've got authorisation. So can we start this on Monday?"
Minion: "Has it been authorised yet?"
PMv2: "No, but we need to start right away."
... and repeat.
Other news, is that Death Spiral has apparently changed scope yet again. This is one of his justifications for half of what he's saying conflicting with the other half. We're not sure what the scope has changed to, but apparently everything we've done so far has been deemed to be of operational importance, but of no value to the project. We need to concentrate on superficial issues instead (at this point my minion announces with gritted teeth that she has to leave for lunch). And we're not allowed to tell stakeholders that it's a big job and will take time, because they'll get nervous and kill the project.
... and suddenly he realises that no-one in the shed considers this a bad thing anymore, and begins fumbling for other reasons as to why we should lie to the stakeholders. Because hiding the truth from them worked so well through the first eight months of Death Spiral's life.
His fallback position is to complain about the problems he's having dealing with HR issues that shouldn't be his problem to deal with. They're not our problem, either, nor is the fact that he has a problem with them not being his problem. But now they can be our problem, too, because on Project Death Spiral a problem shared is a problem multiplied. No problem.
By the time he leaves he's successfully prevented any work getting done for nearly and hour and a half ... the second time he's done that this week.
Writer's block
What's a good way of saying "it would go a lot faster if you stopped asking me to rewrite it in different formats, wasting our time moaning to us about your problems, and asking for updates twice a day" that isn't likely to end in "now f**k off!"?
09 August, 2005
More rewrites
Good news: the presentation I was to do today is still okay to go ahead, despite PMv2's decree yesterday about releasing information before it's approved. (Solution: deliver a presentation free of meaningful content).
Bad news: the presentation, I'm not told, has to be scaled back from 15 minutes to 5. But that's okay, because they also want to change the emphasis, too. And they even gave me a whole five hours' notice.
I wish I had some idea of what I was doing here.
Bad news: the presentation, I'm not told, has to be scaled back from 15 minutes to 5. But that's okay, because they also want to change the emphasis, too. And they even gave me a whole five hours' notice.
I wish I had some idea of what I was doing here.
Cow-orker: by the pricking of my thumbs...
About 8:20 this morning the tic in my right eye came back. This is the tic that was setting in with increasing frequency when I was still working with the Cow-orker, and which would return within about five minutes of her coming down from Marketing for a visit.
"Hmm," I thought to myself, "she must be doing something really stupid right now."
At 9:20 my phone rings and it's her. She needs some advice about dealing with some of the things that I used to handle, because she's getting stressed out by them.
Half an hour lates I'm still trying to get off the phone. I've given her my advice, she's said "thanks" and "good-bye" at least three of four times and *she just won't go*. All those years of watching her torture people on the other end of the phone, and now it's my turn.
Argh.
I'm typing a "Help me!" e-mail to my old manager when she finally, finally gets off the line.
"Hmm," I thought to myself, "she must be doing something really stupid right now."
At 9:20 my phone rings and it's her. She needs some advice about dealing with some of the things that I used to handle, because she's getting stressed out by them.
Half an hour lates I'm still trying to get off the phone. I've given her my advice, she's said "thanks" and "good-bye" at least three of four times and *she just won't go*. All those years of watching her torture people on the other end of the phone, and now it's my turn.
Argh.
I'm typing a "Help me!" e-mail to my old manager when she finally, finally gets off the line.
Burning down the house
We have no fire alarms in the sheds because the sheds aren't attached to the main building, and therefore there's no legal obigation to let people in the sheds know if there's a fire.
I mention this because we've just received a self-congratulatory e-mail announcing that the City Council has been awarded a "Caring Council" award.
I mention this because we've just received a self-congratulatory e-mail announcing that the City Council has been awarded a "Caring Council" award.
08 August, 2005
Project Death Spiral meets Monday
Severe pointy-hair attack this morning. Amongst all the organisation-generated spam in my Inbox, I find a message from PMv2 asking me to "provide a detailed table" showing 10 different categories across 12 different items. And it must be presented in a Project Office template, which happens to be portrait size (variation from the PO template will not be tolerated). So ... a 12x10 table no wider than the short edge of an A4 sheet. No problem - provided I use 4pt font. Except I don't think 4pt is approved for use in Project Office documents, so I might have a problem here.
That's only the ludicrous part.
The aggravating part is that this is the third incarnation of this information he's asked for - he's already been provided with everything that's available, but wants it summarised in yet another form. Because diversity is good. Should I pre-empt him and supply it as a pie-chart, too, I wonder? This latest request means that not only have I basically wasted my time drafting those earlier documents, I now have to put on hold half the work I'm doing now because he wants to see the Giant Table of Doom first before anything else goes ahead.
That's only the ludicrous part.
The aggravating part is that this is the third incarnation of this information he's asked for - he's already been provided with everything that's available, but wants it summarised in yet another form. Because diversity is good. Should I pre-empt him and supply it as a pie-chart, too, I wonder? This latest request means that not only have I basically wasted my time drafting those earlier documents, I now have to put on hold half the work I'm doing now because he wants to see the Giant Table of Doom first before anything else goes ahead.
05 August, 2005
Burn, baby, burn
There was a fire drill today. Not that residents of The Shed were told - there are no alarms here, no fire wardens came to check on us or do a head count to make sure we were out safely, and when it was pointed out that the shed only has one door and all the windows are barred, the official & considered response was that a demountable building intended to contain eleven people was too small to warrant an extra exit.
Presumably this means they feel it would be more trouble to cut a door into the wall than to replace up to a dozen crispy-fried staff.
Presumably this means they feel it would be more trouble to cut a door into the wall than to replace up to a dozen crispy-fried staff.
03 August, 2005
Workplace conversations
Minion (in stream-of-consciousness mode): "... oooh, itchie booby ..."
Stifled snorts from around the room.
Momentary pause.
Temp: "Well if that's the kind of relationship we're going to have, let me tell you all about my balls..."
Just another snapshot of Life in The Shed.
Stifled snorts from around the room.
Momentary pause.
Temp: "Well if that's the kind of relationship we're going to have, let me tell you all about my balls..."
Just another snapshot of Life in The Shed.
02 August, 2005
Project Death Spiral: raw nerves
A fairly serious issue has come up. One of those things that's so glaringly obvious in hindsight that it seems impossible no-one identified it at the time. Particularly the people making the decisions back then, like PMv1 and Project Team Leader v1.
While waiting for a meeting to begin yesterday morning, my minion pounced on PTLv1, who was sitting in for someone else, and asks him whether anyone had identified this issue back when the decision was first made.
"Err... no."
She explains.
"Um, no. That's easily fixed, though. There'll be a workaround. Why is it a problem again?" (Inoffensive guy, but not real bright).
Another manager in attendance asked for a couple of details, and suggested some solutions that could be discussed at another meeting later in the week.
And that, as far as we knew, was that. Until this morning when my minion arrived back in the shed after getting some clean drinking water from inside the main building.
"Did you think I was making a personal attack on PTLv1 yesterday?"
"Hell, no. He was still able to walk unassisted. Why?"
Apparently PTLv1 baled up my minion in passing and asked whether she was trying to make a personal attack on him yesterday (which is something only someone who'd never seen her make a personal attack could ask).
My minion brushes it aside. "No, of course not. I'm just trying to work out why no-one saw this coming before now and thought you might know something from back then."
"Well it felt like you were blaming me. I've heard that people are trying to blame me for the project running so far behind schedule when I was running it." (Well, who'd have thought? Chalk it up to one of life's cruel coincidences, I guess).
"Seriously, I haven't given it a second thought."
"Well I was worrying about it all day. Because it wasn't my fault, you know." Suddenly he sees light at the end of the tunnel. "But you were there, too. You were part of all those decisions!"
At this point he comes dangerously close to incurring a real personal attack, but my minion restrains herself and points out that she wasn't the project team leader, and was only told about things (sometimes) after they happened. PTLv1 is starting to sweat a little by this point ("Oh god, she really is trying to put the blame on me!") so she takes pity on him and explains that all she's really interested in doing is trying to get the issue fixed as soon as possible.
"Oh, that's good. Because it really sounded like you were trying to make a personal attack, and I've heard stuff. People are saying things. And it wasn't my fault. Really. Umm..." Some primitive survival instinct sees him retreat back to his office before he digs himself any deeper.
No guilty consciences there, no. Not in the slightest.
While waiting for a meeting to begin yesterday morning, my minion pounced on PTLv1, who was sitting in for someone else, and asks him whether anyone had identified this issue back when the decision was first made.
"Err... no."
She explains.
"Um, no. That's easily fixed, though. There'll be a workaround. Why is it a problem again?" (Inoffensive guy, but not real bright).
Another manager in attendance asked for a couple of details, and suggested some solutions that could be discussed at another meeting later in the week.
And that, as far as we knew, was that. Until this morning when my minion arrived back in the shed after getting some clean drinking water from inside the main building.
"Did you think I was making a personal attack on PTLv1 yesterday?"
"Hell, no. He was still able to walk unassisted. Why?"
Apparently PTLv1 baled up my minion in passing and asked whether she was trying to make a personal attack on him yesterday (which is something only someone who'd never seen her make a personal attack could ask).
My minion brushes it aside. "No, of course not. I'm just trying to work out why no-one saw this coming before now and thought you might know something from back then."
"Well it felt like you were blaming me. I've heard that people are trying to blame me for the project running so far behind schedule when I was running it." (Well, who'd have thought? Chalk it up to one of life's cruel coincidences, I guess).
"Seriously, I haven't given it a second thought."
"Well I was worrying about it all day. Because it wasn't my fault, you know." Suddenly he sees light at the end of the tunnel. "But you were there, too. You were part of all those decisions!"
At this point he comes dangerously close to incurring a real personal attack, but my minion restrains herself and points out that she wasn't the project team leader, and was only told about things (sometimes) after they happened. PTLv1 is starting to sweat a little by this point ("Oh god, she really is trying to put the blame on me!") so she takes pity on him and explains that all she's really interested in doing is trying to get the issue fixed as soon as possible.
"Oh, that's good. Because it really sounded like you were trying to make a personal attack, and I've heard stuff. People are saying things. And it wasn't my fault. Really. Umm..." Some primitive survival instinct sees him retreat back to his office before he digs himself any deeper.
No guilty consciences there, no. Not in the slightest.
29 July, 2005
Project Death Spiral
I hesitate to throw the word "retarded" around lightly, but I can't think of any better way to describe the template the Project Office have devised for all project-related documents.
It's an interesting experience to bold one word and watch it carry on throughout the entire document. And the same for indenting, dot-pointing, and probably a number of formatting options I haven't tried yet.
Interesting the first time, frustrating everytime thereafter...
It's an interesting experience to bold one word and watch it carry on throughout the entire document. And the same for indenting, dot-pointing, and probably a number of formatting options I haven't tried yet.
Interesting the first time, frustrating everytime thereafter...
26 July, 2005
Brother of Death Spiral
Another project is just gearing up, which is tangentially related to Project Death Spiral. As an identified stakeholder (see also "drive-by victim"), I was required in a meeting.
The Evil Danny Devito clone also turns up, having identified himself as a stakeholder. He seems to be a stakeholder in every project going at the moment, possibly because project managers have developed a defensive strategy of pointing him at other projects to spread his attention as thinly as possible.
This time around he spends less time trying to emphasise that everyone else is simply duplicating the work of his project (reality has started to intrude, perhaps), and has done some research on the software under discussion. Unfortunately for him, that's all he's done, without actually trying to understand what the software is going to be used for. He's aware that it's a database of some kind, but doesn't know how it's being and will be used. So he concentrates on what he's ovbiously cribbed from the company's website and tries to sound like an authority.
Evil Devito: "I think we need to be able to run this report from it. I read about it, and it sounds like what we need."
Database developer: "Uh, sure. That's just one of the default reports. We can do that without any dramas."
Evil Devito: "Because it's perfect for what we need. It gives us that big picture overview, so we need to be able to access this."
DB developer: "Okay..."
Meeting chair: "We already have the big picture, Evil Devito. I don't think we need to dwell on being able to run a report that's part of what we're getting out of the box."
Evil Devito: "But once we get it, we can show people! And they'll be impressed! By the way, we have far too many categories in our database." He rattles off some statistics. "That's way too many. We need to delete some - look at this list!"
DB administrator: "Uh, that report you've pulled includes all the subcategories and other fields. You could delete all of them, but then you're database would be an unusable mess."
Sensing he's losing his audience, Evil Devito introduces his other bugbear for the meeting: the "squillions of spreadsheets" that are plaguing the organisation.
Evil Devito: "Squillions, I tell you! We need to get rid of them all by incorporating them all into this database!"
My minion: "Why?"
Evil Devito: "Squillions! All that data, stored in spreadsheets!"
Minion: "What kind of spreadsheets?"
Evil Devito: "What part of 'squillions' aren't you following? They're a plague and we must be rid of them!"
Minion: "Most of them are probably reports people are using to analyse what's in the database. Like we do. If you take away the spreadsheets, people aren't going to be able to do their jobs properly."
Evil Devito: "Spreadsheets must die! The database is the only solution!"
Minion: "Even if we can't manipulate the data that comes out of it?"
Evil Devito twitches, then turns to the person beside him. "Squillions of spreadsheets. Everywhere, I tell you!"
The Evil Danny Devito clone also turns up, having identified himself as a stakeholder. He seems to be a stakeholder in every project going at the moment, possibly because project managers have developed a defensive strategy of pointing him at other projects to spread his attention as thinly as possible.
This time around he spends less time trying to emphasise that everyone else is simply duplicating the work of his project (reality has started to intrude, perhaps), and has done some research on the software under discussion. Unfortunately for him, that's all he's done, without actually trying to understand what the software is going to be used for. He's aware that it's a database of some kind, but doesn't know how it's being and will be used. So he concentrates on what he's ovbiously cribbed from the company's website and tries to sound like an authority.
Evil Devito: "I think we need to be able to run this report from it. I read about it, and it sounds like what we need."
Database developer: "Uh, sure. That's just one of the default reports. We can do that without any dramas."
Evil Devito: "Because it's perfect for what we need. It gives us that big picture overview, so we need to be able to access this."
DB developer: "Okay..."
Meeting chair: "We already have the big picture, Evil Devito. I don't think we need to dwell on being able to run a report that's part of what we're getting out of the box."
Evil Devito: "But once we get it, we can show people! And they'll be impressed! By the way, we have far too many categories in our database." He rattles off some statistics. "That's way too many. We need to delete some - look at this list!"
DB administrator: "Uh, that report you've pulled includes all the subcategories and other fields. You could delete all of them, but then you're database would be an unusable mess."
Sensing he's losing his audience, Evil Devito introduces his other bugbear for the meeting: the "squillions of spreadsheets" that are plaguing the organisation.
Evil Devito: "Squillions, I tell you! We need to get rid of them all by incorporating them all into this database!"
My minion: "Why?"
Evil Devito: "Squillions! All that data, stored in spreadsheets!"
Minion: "What kind of spreadsheets?"
Evil Devito: "What part of 'squillions' aren't you following? They're a plague and we must be rid of them!"
Minion: "Most of them are probably reports people are using to analyse what's in the database. Like we do. If you take away the spreadsheets, people aren't going to be able to do their jobs properly."
Evil Devito: "Spreadsheets must die! The database is the only solution!"
Minion: "Even if we can't manipulate the data that comes out of it?"
Evil Devito twitches, then turns to the person beside him. "Squillions of spreadsheets. Everywhere, I tell you!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)