Abstraction

David Sedaris is hilarious, and he had a fantastic essay on air travel in the New Yorker recently. I particularly liked this passage, about traveling in business class. It so perfectly parallels my experience:

“May I bring you a drink to go with those warm nuts, Mr. Sedaris?” the woman looking after me asked—this as the people in coach were still boarding. The looks they gave me as they passed were the looks I give when the door of a limousine opens. You always expect to see a movie star, or, at the very least, someone better dressed than you, but time and time again it’s just a sloppy nobody. Thus the look, which translates to “Fuck you, Sloppy Nobody, for making me turn my head.”

I feel exactly that way whether I’m in coach (most of the time) or business (the occasional upgrade). Walking to my coach seat I’m always thinking about how much more comfortable these slobs in business are going to be for the next 12 hours or so, damn them. Likewise, I feel a vague sense of guilt if I’m sitting in my business class seat. I’m thinking “this trip is going to suck *so much more* for all of you.” Certainly it doesn’t help that I epitomize the sloppy nobody as I sit there in my fleece listening to an iPod while other business travelers whisper importantly into their Blackberrys.

Concern over the stupidity of the average American has been a theme of intellectual pundits throughout my life, finding an initial voice in the early 60s with Richard Hofstadter’s “Anti-Intellectualism in American Life.” Since then media attention to the subject has ebbed and flowed over the years. During the early 80’s, when I was in high school, I heard constantly about the fantastic levels of moronism achieved by my peers, many of whom, it was said, struggled to find the United States on an unmarked map. Japan was opening mocking our engineering ability, and America’s competitive position seemed to sink along with our math and science scores.

For my part, I had never (to my knowledge) met someone that couldn’t identify major countries on a map; I thought it would be interesting, in a slowing-down-to-look-at-a-car-wreck kind of way, to speak with someone so fantastically stupid. In some way, I expected such a person to consider their ignorance an aspect of their personality: “I’m Sam, and I play the guitar, and I can’t find the United Kingdom on a map or describe the importance of the first amendment.”

Sadly, stupid people don’t often self-identify with their stupidity, and I never got the chance to meet my representative moron. Turns out I didn’t need to, as the election of George W. Bush and the political rise of evangelical Christianity has put a good number of them on the world stage, free to be gawked at. The election also ushered in a new cycle of intellectual hand-wringing, which has risen in pitch as the gang of Idiots seek to ensure the country is well and truly ruined before they leave office and go back to their homes and their churches.

The latest furlow: last week Susan Jacoby’s “Age of American Unreason” was released. If the review at Salon is any indication (I’ve yet to read it myself), I will probably think it’s a great book, because I’ll strongly agree with it:

The chief manifestations of this newly virulent irrationality are the rise of fundamentalist religion and the flourishing of junk science and other forms of what Jacoby calls “junk thought.” The mentally enfeebled American public can now be easily manipulated by flimsy symbolism, whether it’s George W. Bush’s bumbling, accented speaking style (labeling him as a “regular guy” despite his highly privileged background) or the successful campaign by right-wing ideologues to smear liberals as snooty “elites.”

Unable to grasp even the basic principles of statistics or the scientific method, Americans gullibly buy into a cornucopia of bogus notions, from recovered memory syndrome to intelligent design to the anti-vaccination movement.

Ms. Jacoby also has an op-ed in today’s Washington Post:

It is almost impossible to talk about the manner in which public ignorance contributes to grave national problems without being labeled an “elitist,” one of the most powerful pejoratives that can be applied to anyone aspiring to high office. Instead, our politicians repeatedly assure Americans that they are just “folks,” a patronizing term that you will search for in vain in important presidential speeches before 1980.

Truth be told, I’ve myself accepted “elitist” as a pejorative, one that I use almost unconsciously in a self-deprecating way. The main culprit, according to Jacoby, is the rise of video culture and correlated decline of reading

First and foremost among the vectors of the new anti-intellectualism is video. The decline of book, newspaper and magazine reading is by now an old story. The drop-off is most pronounced among the young, but it continues to accelerate and afflict Americans of all ages and education levels.

Not that Jacoby’s effort matters. As Laura Miller describes in her Salon review, she is only preaching to the choir. I’ll buy her book (I’ll even read it), but it’s really an exercise in narcissism in the sense that I know the book will just reinforce my own opionions. Just think: I’ll be even more elitist.

I travel to Southeast Asia on business every so often. If I have a choice, I’ll always connect through Changi airport in Singapore.

There are lots of nice things about the airport; it’s got a nice transit hotel, a gym, amazing shops, and reasonable food. But there are some things that set it apart. Top five reasons I love Singapore’s Changi Airport:

Reason Five: It’s got some beautiful areas. Here’s the orchid garden, which surrounds a koi pond complete with dabbling brook, nice wooden bridge and huge voracious koi. To give you an idea of how big this “meditation area” is, the woman at the left of the photo is sitting at the edge of the koi pond with her feet dangling above the water:

Reason Four: Free video games and free WiFi(!) throughout the airport. Lots of geeky types congregating in the XBox area, so of course I didn’t stay long.

Reason Three: The bizarro Asian soda you can get at the airport 7–11. Note that the Bird’s Nest Drink by Super brand features “The Best Good Taste,” as opposed to the inferior good taste offered by other, lesser, Bird’s Nest Drink distributors.

Reason Two: Free Movies, playing 24 hours a day in a real theater. “It’s Pat” was playing when I took this picture. Had I stuck around, I could have caught “First Blood” followed by “Porky’s.”

And the number one reason Changi is the best airport in the world:

Here’s the kicker: when I took this picture, there was no one monitoring the whiskey tasting station. Just a bunch a booze and a stack of paper cups. I’m not kidding.

This quarter’s topic at the Silicon Valley Junto is “This I believe,” a theme borrowed from the recently-reinstated NPR program. “This I Believe” was originally produced in the 50s by Edward R. Murrow, and was wildly popular in its day. A book of transcripts of essays from the program was a huge best seller. Because Murrow refused to support the show with commercials, he was able to include many scandalous essays on the program that would otherwise never air because frightened sponsors would kill it. One of these was an Eleanor Roosevelt essay in which she admitted to doubts regarding the existence of God (if I remember correctly, her gist was that it’s more appropriate to focus on solving worldly problems rather than perservating on post-death access to a gated community with lots of gilding and de rigeur facial hair). But I digress.

Anyway, I’m out of town and won’t be able to participate in the Junto, but it made me think. What would I write? What, exactly, do I “believe?” It’s a deceptively difficult question, at least for me. Certainly there are things that I think are true, but I find it difficult to boil these ideas down into one that captures me. Something that I can point to and say, “this is what I’m about.”

The trouble is that the things I believe are either trite (I believe my employer should provide me with all the free Diet Coke I can drink) or are pretentious (who the hell cares what I believe politically or religiously or whatever). Then there’s the temptation to write about things I “believe” that are really about trying to establish myself as a good person.  “I believe in treating people equally and with kindness” is abstractly true, but the true-truth is I’m often a grumpy asshole for no good reason. And don’t get judgmental about that, mother fucker, because you can be an asshole sometimes too.

I imagine this all has to do with the depth of thought one puts into things. That is, the depth of one’s thinking about an issue is proportional to the importance one places on the issue. It’s disconcerting to be faced with one’s shallowness.

I was talking with a friend the other day in a local Blockbuster. He commented that 7-11 stores used to rent movies, and that he missed having that option. “With 7-11, there were, like, five movies to choose from. It was really easy to decide which of the five I wanted to rent — I always made a choice. At Blockbuster, there are a million movies. I walk in here, and I can’t decide.”

This reminded me of one of my favorites concepts; the notion of the tyranny of choice. For some people, living as a privileged person in a place with plenty of everything is psychologically damaging. Having options can make you unhappy.

At the core of this is the observation that people can be measured by the extent to which they are “maximizers;” that is, to the extent to which they carefully analyze their decisions in an effort to find the very best option. When making a decision, maximizers weigh every option carefully, taking time to consider the very best possible choice.

The trouble with being a maximizer, it turns out, is that the “best possible choice” does not exist independent of a person’s mind. There is no car that is innately “best,” just as there is no “best” entree, shoes, vacation spot, or anything else. In the end, the best choice is the one that makes you feel the best having chosen it. And there’s the rub.

When you choose to go in a particular direction, you are simultaneously choosing against going in another direction. More to the point, you are choosing against many different directions. Having carefully studied those options, the maximizer is intimately familiar with all of the wonderful qualities he just rejected. This creates a two-fold burden for the poor maximizer: the pain of losing all the options now rejected, and the quickly diminishing joy found in the choice actually made.

Consider the person obsessed with buying a new car. Once chosen and bought, the new car quickly loses its patina. It become mundane and hum-drum with familiarity. In the meantime, all the various lost features offered by the dozen cars rejected float in the (now depressed) maximizer’s mind. Compounding this pain is the amount of energy put into the choosing process; after pouring energy into finding just the right option, it doesn’t feel very good.

The situation isn’t just anecdotal or an interesting thought experiment, there’s lots of evidence that too many options cause real suffering. From the sciam article linked to above:

Assessments of well-being by various social scientists–among them, David G. Myers of Hope College and Robert E. Lane of Yale University–reveal that increased choice and increased affluence have, in fact, been accompanied by decreased well-being in the U.S. and most other affluent societies.

Opposite the maximizer is the satisficer (a portmanteau of satisfy and suffice), someone that chooses the option offered that’s good enough, without obsessing about whether the choice is the best possible. This doesn’t mean that satisficers settle for low quality, nor does it mean that they don’t care. It means they don’t obsess — and often, when considering the cost of an obsessive decision-making process, a satisficing choice is near-best anyway in terms of overall cost.

The moral? Pay attention to your decision making process and notice if you tend to struggle or obsess. If you do, force yourself to say “Screw it, I’ll take the middle one” (or whatever other method that quickly identifies the good-enough option). You’ll be happy that you did. And never spend more than five minutes searching for a movie in a blockbuster.

Every so often I learn something that challenges something I’ve (almost always unconsciously) held as a fundamental truth.  For me, it was a fundamental truth that group activities such as brainstorming are more effective than individual efforts in creative exploration of an issue.

I’m sure the “fundamentalness” of this truth is largely due to the ubiquity of group think in business.  People constantly have meetings, and brainstorm, and attempt to arrive at consensus.   But it turns out that brainstorming is not only unproductive, it’s very unproductive:

I am endlessly frustrated by navigating through automated customer service messages. The absolute worst are the voice interaction messages, to which you are supposed to speak your request (instead of pressing “1” or whatever).

The problem is, I’m usually in a car, or at the airport, or in some other similarly noisy place. the stupid machine can’t understand me above the ambient noise. I’m amazed at how irritating this is. It’d be less irritating to just whack me in the head with the phone.

Phone: Welcome to AlwaysLate Airlines. Just speak your request, or say “Help” for a list of available options.

Me: Flight status

Phone: I’m sorry? I didn’t get that.

Me: Flight status

Phone: I’m sorry? I didn’t get that.

Me: FLIGHT STATUS

Phone: I’m sorry? I didn’t get that.

Me: FFFFFFLLLLLLIIIIGGGGGHHHHHTTTTTTTT SSSSTTTTTAAAATTTTUUUSSSS

Phone: I’m sorry? I didn’t get that.

Me: Help.

Phone: I’m sorry? I didn’t get that.

Anyway, check out www.gethuman.com. It’s a great site, with numbers and instructions for getting right to a real human being.

I think it was in Dreaming in Code that I first came across the term “Shaving the Yak.” The concept has been familiar for a long time, I just didn’t have the words to express it. “Shaving the yak” refers to an focus on tools to accomplish a task instead of actually working on the task itself (e.g. Use this db, or that one? This coding language, or that one, etc.)

Sadly, yak-shaving happens to be one of my all time favorite activities. This is most evident in my book-buying: When I’m interested in a topic, I like to browse and buy books about the topic much more than I do actually learning about the topic.

My house is stuffed to the rafters with books that can serve as a chronology of my various interests over the course of the last decade or so.  You can note the many Dr. Phil books, for example, and, based on their position relative to other books, surmise that I had a fight with my wife sometime in 2001. My penchant for this book-buying has to do with feeling like I’m tackling a subject without actually having to tackle the subject.

For a long time, among my favorite yak-shaving activities had to do with personal productivity. Turns out I’m not alone, either; shaving this yak is so popular it’s got it’s own moniker: productivity prOn. There’s lots and lots and lots of web sites devoted to it, and a book, and many, many gurus. And no geeky blog is complete without a missive devoted to it.

And…I’m over it.  Thing is, my day to day work involves many onerous tasks that I’d really rather not have to do.  I think I subconsciously felt that if I were only to become super-productive, some of these tasks would take care of themselves. It’s akin to buying Quicken to fix an overspending problem.  You install it, feel like you’re making progress, and then realize that the unpleasant not-spending part is still there. (Then, irritated, you go out and buy Microsoft Money instead).

So no more shaving the yak for me.  I’m quitting the habit.  And to prove I’m serious, I’ve found a couple good books on the subject.

High among my (many, many) pet peeves is the bathroom hand-dryer, the wall mounted device that blows a sad little bleat of warm air on your hands, forcing you to either stand around and repeatedly cycle the machine or just give up and smear your hands all over the front of your pants.

Now, reminding me that the potential for a great product is often right in front of you, comes a better hand dryer.

It dries with a slim jet of air moving at 400 miles per hour. The Airblade doesn’t heat the air, so it uses about 80% less electricity than conventional machines. The dryers, which will be launched in the U.S. on June 26, are getting rave reviews from early customers. “Everybody loves them,” says George Denise, general manager for property manager Cushman & Wakefield at Adobe Systems Inc.’s buildings in San Jose, Calif. “They’re high-tech. They’re unique. They work well. And I’d even go so far as to say they’re fun.”

That great products ideas are everywhere, if you only know where to look, reminds me of an aphorism — there is, right now, a tiny company (or just an idea for a company) destined to grow into a billion dollar monster. If you missed your chance as an early employee at Google (or wherever), don’t sweat it; the next Google (or Oracle, or YouTube, or whatever) exists today, right now, somewhere. All you have to do is find it. They’ll hire you, no problem. Also, once you find it, you have to stick with it even when everything is going to hell and you’re sure it’s going to be a miserable failure. Easy, right?

One of the things I love most about living in Silicon Valley is how it celebrates geeks. Everything that is geeky, everything that made high school a miserable experience, is the norm here. It’s embraced. If it happens makes you very rich, it’s even sexy. People that aren’t geeky, or are at least associated with some geeky endeavor, are assumed to be cognitively impaired in some fundamental way. Not in a “you are stupid” way, but in a “you don’t really get it” kind of way.

It’s necessary at this point to admit that every non-geek I know (including my wife) would rush to emphasize that they in no way wish to “get it,” nor do they feel their life is in any way poorer for not “getting it,” and where the hell does a geek get off denigrating another person anyway, for God’s sake, not to mention the many things that geeks “don’t get,” including, all too frequently, personal hygiene and a modicum of conversational ability.

But I digress.

My point, such as it is, is that I just learned about the Tech Shop in Menlo Park. From the Tech Shop home page:

TechShop is a fully-equipped open-access workshop and creative environment that lets you drop in any time and work on your own projects at your own pace. It is like a health club with tools and equipment instead of exercise equipment…or a Kinko’s for geeks.

I think that such a great place could only exist in Silicon Valley. Anyway, kudos to Guy Kawasaki for pointing it out. Very, very cool.

As I’ve mentioned a couple of times in previous posts, I’ve recently joined a new company and now have a totally different work schedule. My company is based in Ireland, and I’m working primarily from my office at home in San Francisco, supplemented with monthly trips to Dublin.

It’s my first experience working from home. I entered into it with great optimism about how taking control of the lion’s share of my time would create opportunities that I otherwise would not have. I could, for example, opt to take my son to a swimming lesson on Tuesdays at 11am without disrupting my work schedule at all. As long as I got the job done, there was no one looking over my shoulder telling me that I needed to work within a specific window of time. I can move the window (or break it up) any way that I wished).

On paper it sounds great, and I’m still optimistic that it will be great. But it’s been much harder than I thought it would be. Look at this blog, for example — I provided an update near daily for months before starting the new gig, and have made perhaps three pathetic updates since.

Routine is really important for productivity. At least is is for *my* productivity. Unless I structure my day into specific blocks of time, each allocated to one specific goal or the other, I find that I get almost nothing done. I like to tell myself that this is indicative of an extremely curious mind (e.g. there’s always something interesting to think about, read, or work on). That’s mostly crap. It’s really indicative of my tendency toward disorganization and procrastination, against which I fight a constant battle.

So I’m developing a routine, and am finally getting the details of my home office worked out. The results will speak for themselves in the coming weeks. If I begin the next post with “man, it’s been awhile,” you can be assured that I was less successful that I had hoped.

Well, it’s only been a week or so since my last post, but based on the carryings on I’m getting via email, you’d think that I’ve engaged in some terrible betrayal. Sorry about that.

I do have an excuse: I’ve started a new job. It’s a good excuse, because it’s a high stress event. Here’s proof:

Divorce, death of a loved one, job loss—it’s not surprising to find life events like these on the high-stress list. But marriage? A new house? A personal achievement [such as a new job]? Sure enough, these “good” events are stressful, too.

“Your body reacts to stress in the same way regardless of the cause,” says cardiologist Gerald Pytlewski, D.O., of Lehigh Valley Hospital and Health Network. “The level of stress hormones goes up, and if the stress continues over time, it elevates your cholesterol, blood pressure and heart disease risk.”

See? And note that the fact that this is some random quote from the internet that happens to support my premise doesn’t for a moment dilute it’s truthfulness. I mean, it’s not divorce or death, but it’s up there.

Anyway, I’ve started a new job. It’s not my first new job, either — I’ve done this a couple times, and I’ve learned something about new jobs over the years, and since it’s on my mind I thought I’d jot them down.

Start before your first day
For much of my career, I didn’t think about my new job until the moment I found myself sitting in an unfamiliar area surrounded with unfamiliar people. It’s much easier if you prepare for the first day by talking with everyone you can. Talk with the person you are replacing. Talk with people on your team, and teams with which you are going to be working. I usually make a list of the half dozen or so people that are likely to be most important in my new role, then I write an email asking to set up a quick phone call to introduce myself and talk about the role. This doesn’t have to be a big production, and it can be kept fairly informal, but it gives you a chance to form some initial relationships and get a “feel” for the important issues facing the company in general and you in particular.

Talk with everyone
People are most productive when they have working relationships — when they are part of the corporate “family.” There’s no magic bullet toward making this happen — it takes time. You can jump start the process, however, by making it a point to introduce yourself and say hello to absolutely everyone you see. Schedule in person meetings with the half dozen people you spoke about on the phone. Don’t wait for people to come to you; make yourself easy to meet and easy to talk to. Ask about the company, the products, the customers, the competitors, anything and everything you can think of.

Be conservative
Be careful how you express yourself, however. When you’re the new guy, there is a strong temptation to prove your value (your amazing intelligence, the formidable breadth and depth of your knowledge, your heroic past deeds). Resist this temptation. Everyone you meet will assume that they are the expert because, as the new guy, you know nothing. Frankly, they are probably right. Even if they are wrong, pretend otherwise. Give them the opportunity to have a forum in which they can teach; it’ll win you friends.

Of course, it goes without saying that you should avoid potentially controversial or contentious subjects such as religion or politics. Laugh at jokes, but avoid the temptation to prove that you are funny (or cool, or worldly) as well. Avoid expressing strong opinions about work-related matters. Collect as much information as possible, ask as many questions as possible, but don’t pass judgement. Even if you are right — the website might actually be pretty awful, the collateral poorly written, the business plan short sighted, the accounting sloppy, but talking about it probably won’t win you any friends and is likely to earn you some enemies. The company got along just fine before you arrived, and it’s amazingly easy to say or do something that causes people to wonder who the hell you think you are.

Read everything
You’re pretty stupid going it, and it’s important to become less stupid as quickly as possible. Read everything you can about your company, your products, your competitors, your technology. Everything. Then read it again. The faster you become fluent in your particular “language” the easier it is going to be.

Find an easy, early win
If you’re talking with everyone, reading everything, and making friends, some opportunities to contribute should become pretty clear. Unless you’re in a position in which your boss is laying out things he/she specifically wants you to accomplish, you need to identify some accomplishments yourself. It almost doesn’t matter what it is, as long as it is possible to achieve within a couple months (at most) and is accepted as a legitimate accomplishment that moves the business forward in some small way. At all costs, avoid the situation in which someone says that you are “off to a slow start” in any context (e.g. if something says “he’s smart, engaged, wonderful, and, though he’s off to a bit of a slow start, I think he’ll really be an asset” really means “he certainly seems capable, but he hasn’t accomplished anything yet.”

Oh, yeah, and a sixth bonus tip:

Give yourself a break
Starting a new job really is a difficult, stressful thing to do. You know no one. You know nothing. Every detail, down to the nearest rest room and how to file an expense report, is new. You aren’t going to swoop in and change the world, so don’t beat yourself up as you ascend the learning curve.

Babies with baggies are particularly unwelcome.

There’s a fine line with cursing.  Used skillfully, cursing is akin to a kind of salt in the sense that it can emphasize  meaning almost magically.  Jokes are funnier, anger better expressed, disappointment and dispair made richer.  In fact, the enhancing effect of this “salty language” (if you’ll forgive me) is so ingrained that many people tend to over-use it, with ruinous consequences.  Who isn’t familar with the person whose frequent curses are an uncomfortable non-sequitor?  
Anyway, three cheers for Steve Pinker, author of some of my favorite books, including the Blank Slate and The Language Instinct.  His new book includes a fantastic exploration of that most favored of hobbies, cursing:

The strange emotional power of swearing–as well as the presence of linguistic taboos in all cultures– suggests that taboo words tap into deep and ancient parts of the brain. In general, words have not just a denotation but a connotation: an emotional coloring distinct from what the word literally refers to, as in principled versus stubborn and slender versus scrawny. The difference between a taboo word and its genteel synonyms, such as shit and feces, cunt and vagina, or fucking and making love, is an extreme example of the distinction. Curses provoke a different response than their synonyms in part because connotations and denotations are stored in different parts of the brain.

I don’t know about you, but I find this stuff pretty fucking interesting. 
The subtle emotional coloring of words reminds me of a friend, fluent in Japanese, who described to me the subtle nuances of speaking Japanese in a business environment.  “English,” my friend told me, “simply doesn’t have the variety of ways to express heirarchy and respect that Japanese does.”  He explained that this difference makes it difficult for a non-native speaker, even if fluent, to successfully negotiate formal conversation in Japan without offending someone.
I took that at face value until I was waiting to board a plane to Tokyo.  In announcing that the plane was ready for boarding, the Japanese attendant flicked on the P.A. system and said “Thank you for waiting, UA803 is ready for boarding.  First class, YOU GET ON NOW!”
Now, I’m not sure there is a literal difference between saying “We invite our first class passengers to board at their convenience” and “YOU GET ON NOW,” and I’m sure the distinction was lost on the attendent (he certainly didn’t mean to sound rude). The point, though is that English has subtle emotional shadings as well.  It actually made me feel better to have the opportunity to be an offended English speaker.  Now, if ever I’m able to get into first class, I’m prepared. 

Not only do I work in the software industry, I work in the geekiest corner of the software industry, the one decorated with discarded Mountain Dew cans, one-serv microwavable containers of Beenie-Weenie, and life-size Judge Dredd cut-outs.

Nevertheless, I believe there are people in the world even geekier than I. As evidence, I offer the following:

This man is writing email on his laptop while energetically using a stationary cycle at the local gym. The laptop, balanced on his open left hand, wobbles precariously as he furiously pedals and taps at the keyboard with a single finger.

One can only imagine what he’s writing:

Dear colleaggeegess—

My wwwkeekly uppdat for thehe Cissco accnnnt ffollos…