Internal Revolutions

He took the tongs and sifted through grapes and sweet melon and pineapple and cantelope. And the bagels. So many bagels, each weighing in at 120 carbs - even before piling on the cream cheese. His eyes rolled over the table. Yes, somewhere a poor village could put this all to use: funny how the world works. He found a table away from the rest - he knew the second part of the day wasn't going to get the focus he put forward for the first half, not after eating lunch. So he settled to watch the attendees: the administrators, the programmers, the architects, the developers. And he couldn't help noting, as he remarked on the conference badges hanging about their neck and bouncing forward with each step, how noticeably overfed they all were.

A couple working for a hospital in Duluth joined him. They exchanged names, and immediately the two were remarking on the second class from the morning: "I know Bob has done some auto-discovery work for determining what we have in-house..." "Right. But that's only on the Windows side. We have some unix and Linux components that the administrators have been too busy to turn over to us." "Cowboys. If we could get more buy-in from the top, the pressure would be there. It would be pretty easy for them; I know they're already monitoring all those servers...the information is already there." He turns to him: "Just a kick in the pants, right?"

He mumbles and stutters. There must be something wrong with these people to have joined him; there must be some crisis in confidence, some inherent desperation that would prompt them to ask for the take from the guy who couldn't appear more disinterested. He scans the room for all the seats they could have taken.

"I think everyone in our I.T. is on board. It's been a challenge - as recent as six months ago we were 'auto-discovering' from an Excel spreadsheet..." He waits for laughter, but they look to each other as though he can't be possibly be serious. "No, I'm serious! Here's what you do: find someone in a general platform support role, someone who loves to write code but is stuck in writing the guidelines and standards that govern it. Take them out to lunch, get them on board with what you are doing...management is only there to pay lip service to it. For leadership, they want this to be low investment, high return. Don't count on them, regardless of what they said in class. Really: make it grass roots, make it fun, and lead people on with the attention they'll get if they succeed. That's how I did it." They look at one another. It's not a very technical approach; it's not the language they are used to speaking in. "We don't have a platform support, and I don't think there's a person in our department like that! Everyone is overworked!"

"Overworked fixing stuff or overworked implementing projects? Before you answer..." He leans into them conspiratorially: "your answer determines whether you should be here at all. I mean, keep in mind; we're all here to learn how to track - on failure, by change, and so forth - all the technological assets in our shop. If you fall into the former group, you seem to be doing fine. So fine that you can expend your resources to send them to a dog and pony show like this. If you fall into the latter group, well then: kudos."

He feels bad for the Duluth couple. They lean back as though regretting the table they chose, and he wants to make it up to them. "Google 'auto-discovery tools'. You'll probably find something for free. Someone has coded this already. Someone has always coded the good stuff already. Google it, and toss in the platform you're worried about. Print it out and hand it to your SME. Just doing a little thing like that will show you're vested, and you probably won't have to take them out to lunch." Saying the word makes him look over at the buffet and all the leftovers that will be trashed by the time they gather into forum groups. A dull bell is rung overhead. "Show's about to start. Here's my card - " He whips out a couple and crosses out the title 'Change Manager' and writes 'Windows Specialist' on one of them; he hands them each one: "I seem to be changing jobs every six months. I gave up on business cards. I should just have a set written up with a generic 'IT Professional'...at least the phone number never changes."

Two hundred of them herd at the sound of the bell. He reaches into his back pocket for the badge and flashes it as he passes through the doorway into the conference room. And realizes, he didn't ask for the business cards from the Duluth twosome: either they never want to hear from him again, or they left them at home. It happens.

There is one more lecture before the day ends with forum groups. The last lecture will address the value derived from an implemented problem and change management process that will add value to your corporation due to the minimized need for production support resources. He looks at all the people crammed into the room and makes a judgment: the more people a session is designed for, the less applicable it will be to any one in the room. He thinks: I'm not usually this jaded about these conferences. It's a nice break away from the office. Is it the subject matter? Is it because of all the preaching about how bad things will never happen when there's more up-front investment and attention? Is it because of the way they gloss over the investment required to reach this utopian, perfect state? He thinks about the personalities he works with, the varying degrees of touched inspiration and checked-out laziness. The programmers who get excited to give you a solution to a problem you never had in the first place. The administrators who are content to meet the requirements of their duties but have a fit when something causes them to change the way they look at their jobs - like a new federally imposed auditing procedure or having to deal with a new vendor required by a credit card company they already have a good relationship with. The leadership that wants to see this utopia, but won't sign off to purchase the products that will bring it.

Isn't this where the contention comes from? A defined process that should work everywhere, anytime: but it isn't proven to work anywhere in the real world, so for now: you buy the conference books like they are the Rosetta Stone for how you should be doing things. You meet other people in the industry and you learn to talk the way they do in this imagined utopia. You make baby steps towards reaching this Promised Land. And who knows: this shit may not make a difference by the time you get there. It could take ten years, and what could happen in that time? How many snake oil salesman will show up to give you an ineffective technological solution? How many shifts will occur in the economy? How many times will you ignore your own requirements because you were so thoroughly charmed by a solution to another's problem? Because you were enamored and intoxicated by a new complexity promising to take the hurt away?

He doesn't pay thorough attention. He takes notes through the first fifteen minutes before being carried away by his internal, skeptical questions. The call to break into groups brings him to attention and identified by the purple block on his badge, he walks to room 10E.

"Hello." He can barely keep his eyes open.

"Cindy and Rupert are from Croening; John and I work at Finnish. Where do you work?"

He tells them. He tells them it's funny that all of them are seated at the same table, considering that none of them are working for companies that provide technology as an external service; none of them are individual contractors. "Just noting it. Not that there's anything wrong with it: I just thought they'd be smattered about through these groups..."

"Okay..."

"So. What are you're points of pain?" He finds this is the best question to get the ball rolling, and Cindy rolls with it.

"I think we're pretty good: we have a good problem and trouble management in place. It's the change and the configuration that are the most difficult..." He breaks in: "Do you find that your configuration, getting a hold on your inventory...don't you feel like that is the first thing you should get defined? It seems these things are encouraged in the wrong order." Cindy: "Right. I think that's a known. The definition...the requirements for each of these processes...they're going to be best defined in the order of priority, right? I mean, we know when there's a problem. We know when something is broken. It's easy to cut a ticket for that. It's just the looking forward, so we can see what changed in the environment. For what reason the break occurred."

He swells up with the same kind of idealism that the group running the conference suffers from. "Yeah. I think everyone is at the same place. But, if you start from a top down model: define your assets, define the processes or changes that affect it, and then at the very bottom, have a way of tracking when it breaks: that seems the way to go. The dogma & the industry have been moving from the bottoms up. There's a lot of talk of removing the pain of fixing these problems, making everyone's life more beneficial for not having to put out fires. Which is a pretty tall order...it almost sounds like the goal is to eliminate problems before they happen..."

"I'm sorry, did you say dogma?"

"You get the point. They're promoting a preset logical structure. It would work wonderfully if I were starting an I.T. shop tomorrow: I could follow it to the letter. But all of us have processes already in place. I take back what I said about not having I.T. or contractors here. We're in the same boat to figure this out - shops that are long in the tooth, set in their ways, trying to figure out how to resolve the new methodology to several hundred people and management set in their ways and values. Where implementation has outraced the management of it. You know - your exceptions to standard outnumber the benefits from having defined the standard..."

This strikes a note with John. He is looking at me askance, writing me off as someone who has nothing to offer to the discussion: "Okay, so we want to create a CMDB...how do we go about doing it?"

There's an irresistible silence. I feel like John was negating my thunder, and his question is answered with a lull, so I ask it. "Do any of you see the return on investment? It's been bugging me." John rolls his eyes - he's already profiled me as a troublemaker. Cindy looks a little relieved. Rupert is on the fence: "But that's not why we're here. We're supposed to find solutions. Even to the problems that are prolific. Suppose you found the one answer to all your business' problems and could solve it overnight - you'd feel pretty good about that right?" His tone is getting personal and it confirms that I'm the rogue and outcast at the table. But I'm feeling a complete breakdown coming, and answer him: "Even if this were the answer..." I swing my arm about the room, taking in and addressing everything, "I'm not sure how I would feel about it. I would still have a development and a production support division, right? I'm not going to fire off all my P.S. folks; do you think that sounds like a good idea? I happen to like when things break. Even if it takes people away from their project or value work...it makes them familiar with the systems they're working with. The other day, I had this situation, and because Anil had to fix a problem with a job he had never worked with, he came up to me and told me how he noticed a few things he hadn't noticed before. Anil kicks ass. He found a better solution than the batch we had in place. He re-wrote a design part, and we've reduced the transaction time by seventy percent. So. There's something human about that: I had this kid with something to prove, and he took advantage of the current environment to up the service levels we had in place."

"Ummm...none of this has to do with a CMDB. That's the requirement. Even if it is just to get our assets in one place."

"Google it. Really." I have moments where I wonder why these, and not other people, are sent to these conferences. "Do you people not realize when you've been sent on a wild goose chase? I can see it now, you probably have shit like this budgeted so you don't lose it for next year. But here you are, taking it all seriously."

"There's no need for language!"

Cindy's right, there's no need. "I guess I've been doing this too long. This is the second version of the second methodology that I've had to...learn? Humor? I'm not sure anymore. I see what it promises - I see how heavenly it all is. I also see a complexity that...put to the grindstone of the reality we deal with every day, amounts to a strange...theological methodology." Rupert's eyes light up at the word theological. Probably some Jesus freak. "Come again?”

I'm already regretting my words. "Okay, theology may not have been the right word. What I mean to say is, you have contention and conflict in place. You have problems. So, you are sent off to a conference to learn how to minimize and eventually eliminate these problems and contentions. Only, what they tell you...is that that entire system you have in place...is the thing at fault. The contention has only been moved. It used to be, the grief came from having to respond to that 2 a.m. call to fix something you don't know the first thing about fixing. If you are good at what you do, you hit it hard and figure it out. But by saying that these are all processes that will eliminate this by specific definition...it just seems like you've added layers and layers to the fix."

Rupert seems to want to take me on: "So, you throw resources at fixing things. I can see the cognition required in that. But aren't you foregoing a metacognition?"

"I think that's where I went astray and said theological. It runs parallel to the way so many people look at the world. Yes, it's a noble effort. But for every little problem you fix, you don't have to worry about that problem anymore. Buying into a process that assumes it can keep problems from happening...doesn't that seem a little weird to you? Think about it. It broke because you didn't do it right in the first place. Instead, we're going to have you design something a thousand times more complex, but based on the true and eternal and double-checked authenticity of our requirements, you won't have to fix a broken thing. Even though your coding was shown fallible in the first place."

This gets a laugh from the table, and Rupert speaks up for the group: "Well, I see where you're going with that, but that's the direction the industry is headed. Smarter design. Better requirements. More tracking of the workflow. This seems to be a personal problem for you."

And even after making these people laugh, he feels like he's had this moment. He's getting further and further from them. They only want their CMDB, and that's understandable. They want the technical resolution to a problem; this was probably the only action item they were given for attending the conference. Do they know how many steps it takes to figuring out what they want in their CMDB? No - they probably are focused only on the number of platforms they have, and the degree of granularity they need to report on failure. "You are making this unnecessarily complex," he tells them. "But I wish you the best. I hope, after working your fifty hour weeks, you are still passionate enough to deliver what has been asked of you. In your spare time, y'know."

Rupert had been sitting next to him, and his body language tells it all. It made a shift, so that he would have to look over his shoulder to him: "I don't know the situation where you're at. Just let us move forward - I think we've heard enough from you. Some of us see how there can be a gain or value in this."

He thinks about his atheism. How much bearing it can have on this. But he shakes it off; it is just a matter of his interests being distant from the interests of the conference. He stands up from the table. "I think you're right, there's nothing I can say to help you out in this. It's true; I might be a little exhausted and jaded at it all. I'm sorry for wasting your time - sometimes I look away from the immediate problem, at the big picture and the architecture of it all...and I'm overcome with a sense of futility. Again: I could see the value if I were throwing together an I.T. shop tomorrow. As for resolving all of these processes in an organization for where the current processes are working effectively...let's throw a number at it...let's say they are 95% effective...I guess I don't see the return. I'm caught in a situation where I'm asked to improve something nearly perfect...and you can't understand how frustrating that is." He steps back, and returns his chair to the table. There are several moderators dividing their attention across several tables, and the one nearest walks over to them.

"Is everything all right here? How is it coming along?" Along with the badge he has a whistle around his neck.

He feels like all the eyes are on him to answer. He made a commitment when he stood up. He tries to be funny: "Please don't blow your whistle. I was just leaving. And you know what? I'm going to leave, I'll order your library of books later this week, but I'm going to leave and I'm going to charge where I work as though I were here the entire time. Yeah, that's what I'm going to do. From a cursory look, what you are selling is logic couched in technological terms that any individual in the eightieth percentile...and I'm guessing we're all there or higher? Could have determined on their own." He looks to his table, but no one is making eye contact with him.

"Okay, we do get the occasional response like this. And you're welcome to leave. It's not like we're going to tell on you. If you can come up with a solution to your problems on your own...well, share it with us!" The man tells him he's not going to tell, but he was twisting the whistle in his fingers from the moment he arrived at the table. "You know where to find us! There's a process for improving the process..."

He's not sure why he hasn't bolted. "I feel like I let my little group down. I'm sorry, you guys. I hope you implement this, I hope that even though you are the ground force in your corporation, you somehow get your leadership converted and backing you. I hope you can chisel out a bit of market share with this. Since none of you are in direct competition with me..." And he finally breaks into a smile. "It's funny, there's a personal investment too. Our lives, our careers...I guess I just want to say, think about picking your battles." And he turned to leave. Finally.

The complex was located deep in a suburb. As he left the building, he looked to his car. Really, this is a nice place. It is so quiet, except for the children laughing. Which isn't a bad sound. You can learn to live with that sound.

He walked the far stretch of the parking lot to his car, parked on the outskirts. Before he realized he would be trapped inside for lunch, he had parked his car as far from the building as he possibly could, thinking it would be nice place to eat. The nose of his car abutted a chain-link fence, and beyond was a small public park: benches, pond and monkey bars. Several children were playing on the other side, as two mothers sat on the bench talking to one another.

He flung away his backpack, setting it on the hood of his car. He sunk his fingers into the chain link and climbed all ten feet of the fence. He was haphazard about his dismount, and once over he just let himself fall into a roll. The ladies’ heads turned.

"Hey. Hi. I got out of my seminar early." He told them as he stood and straightened himself. He brushed some dirt from his legs. "It didn't go well. I think I wasn't into what they were saying." His mind was lit up and racing: he knew there was no way that these women didn't see him as a threat at worst, or the most eccentric man they've met, at least. He still had his badge. He had just climbed a fence in a $500 pair of Salvatore shoes. He was tucked in, professional-looking, and had just fallen ten feet out of the air. One of the ladies looked to his right, and his eyes followed: there was a break in the fence designed to allow sane people access.

"No, really, don't worry about it. I'm Jan. This is Meg. We bring the kids here every day during the week."

"Oh, nice to meet you. My name is Dean. Dean Marlowe. The boy on the monkey bars. What's his name?" Meg speaks up - "That's Jed. He didn't do anything, did he?" And he tells her no. "Nothing at all. You'll be watching, you don't mind if I talk to him do you?" Meg looks to Jan, then back to him: "Umm, sure. Do you mind if I ask why?"

And he's already stumbling forward. "There's just something I learned today. I learned something, and I want to share it with someone. A kid. I think a kid is the only person who could understand." And he could sense their concern, but he dragged one foot after the other forward. Meg and Jan fell away from his consciousness.

"Hi Jed."

"Hi." Jed was focused on not breaking a bone. He was a quarter of the way mounting a rainbow shaped arch of monkey bars. "Did my mom send you over?"

"Oh, no!" He replied. "I'm just a friend. So you come here for fun every day?"

Jed saw that this was going to be some talking. Talking he hadn't planned for. He rest the front of his body over the bars and turned his head to this new man. "Almost every day. Some days I have Soccer. And I go back to school soon. My dad is teaching me multipication, he got me a book."

"Pluh. Mulipluh - cation. How old are you?"

He takes one hand away to count: one two three four five. "I'm six!" But he didn't take away the other hand. He laughed a little inside at how the boy was almost completely vertical, but was smart enough to not give up his grip entirely. "So you're six and you are multiplying things...that's pretty good!"

And the boy went on: "I'm smarter than the other kids. My mom and dad tell me so. And I have violin. I have violin and soccer and school." "That's quite a schedule!" But already he feels his heart breaking; whatever he wanted to say to the boy is falling away from the front of his mind. But he asks it. He thinks it is the question to get the ball rolling: "So what do you do for fun?"

"Fun? I don't know. My dad likes soccer. My mom likes the violin."

"But what do you like to do?" He's given up on giving advice. The boy is putting up a challenge he is not ready for. What did he want to do? He wanted to shake this little boy, probably draw the attention of the cop he sees from the corner of his eye: shake this boy, and tell him not to ever grow up. Don't believe in what adults tell you, and when you get older, don't trust the things you put in the place, to replace - all the things the adults tell you. He realized he didn't go into this with a plan. He switched gears. He just listened.

"I like to play on the bars. I like coming here. I'm almost to the top."

"Well then, let me leave you alone. You look like you're doing a great job." And the boy beamed at him, and it was a consolation that warmed his heart. "What's the highest you've gone?" And the boy tells him - "I've gone one, two, three, four."

"Do you know what they are? Four what?" And the boy just tells him "Four of them". He tells the boy, "It's four rungs. Each one is a rung. One rung. You've made it up four, and you've made it four rungs. Do you want to try for five?" And the boy looks away and matches four to five, because multiplication is something he only does in a controlled environment: with his father looking over his shoulder. "Yeah!"

He says it with an enthusiasm. An enthusiasm that makes him feel like today was worth it.