August 25, 2003

gross stereotypes

file under: technology

i just read an article entitled, can programmers do interaction design?

it would be an understatement to say that i disagree with the hypothesis put forward by this author (she believes the answer to the question above is no - programmers cannot and should not do interaction design). in my opinion, her arguments reflect a set of gross stereotypes that have been floating around the web business for awhile (i.e., code monkeys should know their place at the bottom of the web design food chain).

her thesis (as i read it) also reflects the more general idea that any person who can do job A is not capable of doing job B, if jobs A and B seem to involve differing skillsets. it places people in bland, easily understandable categories (i.e., you = your job) with rigid boundaries. taken to its logical extreme, it would imply that since i am an interaction designer (and programmer), i cannot also be a good father or gardener or beautician (these tasks involve different skills, after all).

if this person were some crank speaking off the cuff in a marginal discussion forum, i could easily dismiss her ideas. however, she is a VP of design at a respected interaction design firm. by association, her views are given some degree of validity - her professional status puts a stamp of authority on a notion that is short-sighted and brutally stereotypical.

i will write this woman personally to express my displeasure. if you find her words as troubling as i do (whether or not you're in the business), i would appreciate it if you did as well.

Posted: 08.25.03 at 8:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)

August 19, 2003

under the hood

file under: about this blog

docrpm.com has undergone a few minor revisions:

• notify me: if you wish to be notified of updates to my blog, you may now enter your email address in the form field in the right column navigation, and click the tiny arrow...you will automatically receive an email notification the next time i noodle.
• trackback: trackback has been implemented on most newer posts. for those of you who are new to trackback (like me, until about 2 hours ago), you can read ben trott's great trackback for beginners on the movable type site. if you're a seasoned pro, you know what to do.
• look and feel: because i was bored, and you probably were, too...

enjoy the new features...a major overhaul is in the works, but it will probably be a few months. too many other projects buzzing around.

NOTE: once i looked under the hood at some of my code, i realized just how old this site is getting. the cruft is pretty bad, as ryan (h) would say...it's embarrassing. my CSS is a total trainwreck, and my HTML is aimed towards that dead-end browser i wrote about before.

Posted: 08.19.03 at 11:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

August 15, 2003

deja interview

file under: my life

interviews possess a sameness about them, even though each is different. yesterday's four-hour stint at Yahoo! was no different.

...

ACT I: THE SETUP
before the interview even begins, it begins - getting dressed, finding directions, getting your gear together, getting out the door, getting there. it's all a prelude that helps build dramatic tension.

first, there is the question of what to wear. is this a suit interview, or a jeans interview? or is it an interview at a dotcom that's growing up, where you'd look dumb in a suit, but feel a bit too 'dotcom hipster' if you wear jeans and your giant robot t-shirt? i traveled the middle road - i wouldn't want to work at a company where i had to wear a suit, and jeans make it seem like you're just not taking this seriously enough.

next step - directions. quite easy these days...mapquest or the company web site will usually do it. no stress there.

finally comes the process of gathering your interview paraphernalia:

• notebook (composition book, spiral notebook, post-it notes - whatever works)
• pens (or other writing implements)
• notebook transportation device (aka briefcase or backpack or yakpak or timbuktu bike messenger bag)
• book (to stem the tide of boredom when you wind up sitting in the interview room, all by yourself, bathed in that warm fluorescent glow)
• directions (Mapquest, from the mouth of your streaky inkjet printer, of course)
• contact info for the person you're going to see (forgetting your contact's name is NOT an option)
• food, water, and general life support (if necessary - often helpful if driving, for when you're stuck in soul-destroying traffic coming home)
• wallet and appropriate funds

with all of your gear collected, and running just a few minutes later than expected, you then rush to your chosen mode of transport and begin the journey.

NOTE: if driving, murphy's law clearly dictates that you will have to get gas before you go. if taking public transportation, you will just miss the train or bus or subway. be prepared.

ACT II: THE WAITING ROOM
once you've arrived, hopefully a little early, you will have the pleasure of speaking with the receptionist briefly. he or she will sign you in, verifying that you are a real person who is allowed to be on the premises, and will then ask that you be seated while your contact is contacted. in my case, i was given a nifty printed name tag. the receptionist inadvertently tore the corner off my tag when removing it from the little name-tag printing machine, so not only did i have to bear the indignity of revealing my name and VISITOR status, but i had to advertise with a torn name tag (imagine being named Bob, and your tag says "Hi, my name's BO [tear]").

with the sign-in and visitor name tag business out of the way, one then has the pleasure of sitting in the lobby, often alone with the receptionist. lobby chairs always seem uncomfortable, which, when combined with other things, leads to fidgeting (which makes you look nervous - poor interview form, clearly). pacing is also not good form, although you could pretend to be studying the lobby art with intense interest.

minutes stretch into hours, and fiinally your contact arrives. you wipe your hands on your pants or dress or skirt unobtrusively (preparing for the non-sweaty-palm handshake), introduce yourself while trying not to trip over your own name, look your contact in the eye and smile (warmly, but not too warmly), shake hands, then proceed into the abyss.

ACT III: THE PERP WALK
on your way to the interview chamber, you exchange pleasantries with your contact, usually about the traffic coming down or how much you like the office layout or the beautiful, deep blue of the low-pile industrial office carpet. they are invariably polite, and offer you a beverage of your choosing (the breadth of choice depends strongly on the company...at Yahoo!, the world was my oyster...coffee, tea, soda, filtered water, or perhaps even an espresso with a little lemon twist). choose your beverage wisely, because it will determine how quickly you need to urinate once the interview starts.

walking through the office, you try to gain some sense of what it might be like to work here. do people have family photos up in their cubicles? are there cubicles? are the people old enough to have families? what about fluorescent lights, obnoxious ventilation systems, or strange smells? all of these things are useful information for future reference (should you need it). sometimes you're given the full tour, in which case this assessment becomes easier (this usually happens at places where the place itself is considered an important asset of the company). if the office is just an office, you usually just go straight to the interview room - cut to the chase, so to speak.

the interview room itself is again a function of the company, but i find they are often small, windowless rooms similar in spirit to police interrogation cells. there will be a table with chairs, of course, and maybe a white board or other visual display accoutrements. in my case, the chairs had purple cushions with yellow piping, reflecting the Yahoo! brand quite admirably, and there was a computer in the corner with a live internet connection (broadband, of course). my room had a window, but only into the hall, which had the added benefit of making the interview room into a tiny, carpeted fishbowl.

you take a seat, and the interview begins...unless it doesn't, and your interviewers are running a little late, and you wind up having to sit in that little room, possibly by yourself, trying again to decide whether to sit or stand, pace or fidget, read or just adopt the thousand-yard stare. (it's a little bit like being in a doctor's office after you've been escorted to the examination room...do you sit on that virgin expanse of crinkly paper, or not?)

ACT IV: THE INTERVIEW
and so now it really begins. the parade of interviewers comes and goes, and you talk and listen and talk and talk and listen. you talk about yourself, and your thoughts and feelings and deepest desires (from a work perspective, of course). maybe you try to make a joke here or there.

interview questions are always interesting. this is one place where interviews can become run-of-the-mill, terrifying, and possibly even fun. some people pull out the old, worn interview playbook, and ask the questions that everyone has been asked at one time or another: how would you describe your strengths and weaknesses? what will you bring to this company if we hire you? if you were a small forest animal, what would you be?

the whole class of questions related to your history and experience and specifics skills - these tend to be pretty straightforward.

then there are the open-ended questions, the queries where you either take it and run or sit there making small burbling noises like a pre-vocal infant. i got a lot of these yesterday, and found myself talking and talking and talking. i'm reminded of a description i heard about president warren g. harding's speeches; someone said they were like huge armies of words, crossing a vast landscape desperately in search of an idea. at the time, i felt coherent, but in the murk of recollection, i have become somewhat self-conscious.

in some interviews, you actually find an intellectual connection with your interviewer, and suddenly that divide between you shrinks and it no longer seems like an interview. it evolves into an interesting discussion. this has happened to me, and it makes the interview process so wonderful...my dear friend andrew lynch, when interviewing me for my last "real" job, went to the effort to make this intellectual connection with me. (thank you, andrew!)

finally, sometimes, the interview turns to plain old conversation - wonderful, simple conversation. no agendas, no probing questions, no rambling discourses filled with business jargon...just people talking. i love it when this happens.

ACT V: THE AFTERMATH
and just like that, it's over. you're escorted out by your contact, and you make your way home. sometimes, they say they'll be in touch, sometimes they don't. and so you wander back to your car or train or bus, and maybe begin to replay the interview in your head. or perhaps, if you're wise, you just let it go, smile, and wait to see what happens.

a few final words...
i make interviews out to be terrible; they're not, in general. so much about them is funny; they expose social rituals, business oddities, and ways that we deal with insecurities. part of the issue for me is that i overanalyze my own behavior, and interviews provide a great deal of fodder for this kind of brutal self-examination.

it can be just as hard for the interviewer as the interviewee. how do you handle interviews with people whom you quickly discover are not qualified? how do you make things interesting? how do you deal with the fact that interviews are often a nuisance, a distraction during the course of your busy day? how do you ask the same questions and cover the same things without seeming bored or disinterested? how do you make a human connection?

that's what interviews are, after all...a part of creating human connections. they're doorways we have to negotiate (or guard) in order to extend and enrich our social networks.

but that doesn't mean we should take them so seriously... :-)

Posted: 08.15.03 at 11:28 AM | Permalink

August 8, 2003

two-byte gigolo

file under: my life

this week was witness to events which i will refer to as 'the last straw'.

i'm not going to enter into the postal workers' hall of multiple-homicide fame, or do my own rendition of falling down. instead, i'm going to quietly leave the world of freelance Web consulting with a whimper, not a bang.

why, you ask? because i'm tired of being treated like a two-byte gigolo, doing web tricks on the corner.

...

"hey baby, need somebody to build that web site? my javascript will blow -- you -- away."

"looking for PHP/MySQL love? maybe some hardcore DHTML? i'll do it ALL."

"i'm so desperate to build out my portfolio, i'll let you scr*w me for free!"

these are the kinds of things i imagine myself saying as i peddle my digital wares on the virtual street - i've been doing it for the last 18 months. (note: i'm not trying to say my situation is as bad as a woman or man who has to sell their body on a street corner to live - it's not).

i'm not alone. hordes of displaced, talented web designers and developers (and others from the dot.com diaspora) are being forced to play the freelance game because companies and agencies are unable (or unwilling) to hire them full-time. desperation settles in after awhile and breeds the street corner mentality, regardless of the goods being sold - IA, design, technical development, gardening, dog walking - you name it.

the freelance corner has its upsides: freedom, good money (when people aren't trying to treat you like a cheap 'ho), and working in your jammies. the downsides are pretty obvious: acting like an expensive 'ho and then settling for less, freedom to be unemployed ad infinitum, and working in your stinky jammies (ew...hit the showers, buddy).

so what was the last straw?

this week, i was discussing a potential job with a marketing agency doing work for a BIG client. the job was going to be tough, and could easily turn into the digital version of the Bataan death march if not handled properly. after finally agreeing to do the work in principle, i quoted what i thought was a fair rate. the person to whom i was speaking chuckled uncomfortably, and said,

"gee...uhhh...we were hoping for something a little lower than that. we're working with a serious budget envelope here."

he then proceeded to quote me a rate that was almost 40% less than what the graphic designers were being paid on the project (i had insider information before i quoted my rate). in other words, i was just a leader of code monkeys, and my part of the project was where they were going to cut corners.

it was at this point that i felt like a two-byte gigolo, because i started negotiating my price and telling this person how valuable i would be to the project ('i give really good team meetings and am completely dedicated to making the client happy!').

they wound up offering me a few dollars more an hour, but i declined, and then spent the rest of the day feeling like (a) i had stood up for what i believed in, (b) i was totally deluding myself into thinking i was worth more than what he offered me, and (c) i was becoming a digital commodity.

so i'm going to look for full-time work.

and whenever someone dangles alluring contract work in front of me, i'm going to plug my ears and close my eyes and chant over and over and over - 'i need health insurance...i need health insurance...i need health insurance.'

Posted: 08.08.03 at 6:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)

August 1, 2003

the sun-dried page

file under: thoughts about things

my dictionary sits quietly on a shelf in my living room, taking up five inches of precious book real estate. it used to belong to my ex-stepmother. it sat on a table at my father's house, open, its spine buckled under the weight of its pages.

at some point, with logic only a 10-year-old could decode, i decided it would be best to leave the dictionary open at its midpoint. i did the math, and chose pages 1150 and 1151 as those that would face the world (misgive to mistress - an interesting pair, in retrospect).

and so the dictionary laid open on the table, exposed to the sun, collecting dust and disinterest. i don't know how long it suffered there, but pages 1150 and 1151 eventually wrinkled and yellowed, their age a testament to lexical laziness.

it's hard for me to believe that no one used the dictionary, and then inadvertently left it open at another page (because who, besides me, would be so fastidious as to return it to misgive-mistress). maybe each time i visited my father, i returned the book to its rightful resting place. it was so long ago that i don't recall.

i just remembered all of this today, as the sun shone through my window and i struggled to remember a word...

Posted: 08.01.03 at 4:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)