Abstraction

Article in the WSJ today talks about the network impact of the iPhone: http://online.wsj.com/public/quotes/main.html?type=djn&symbol=t

Users of iPhone download games, video and other Web data at two to four times the rate of other smartphone users, according to comScore. Yet AT&T charges iPhone subscribers the same fee of $30 a month for data that it levies on other smartphone customers. And aside from restricting certain activities, like file sharing, AT&T doesn’t limit how much data can be downloaded…

Too, the iPhone is just the tiny first drop of a huge deluge that will be caused by access dongles and netbooks. The situation is pretty clear: network resources are finite; demand upon them is (as good as) infinite.

A message to those folks philosophically opposed to any kind of network management: something’s gotta give. If access remains unrestricted, physics will take over and reduce everyone’s throughput and QoS to a trickle. It’ll be a small comfort to know that the occasional packet you receive is officially “neutral.”

The net neutrality issue as currently framed is a red herring anyway. Subscriber’s don’t care if their bandwidth is restricted, as long as they have control to remove the restriction. The water supply in my sink is restricted, but I can remove that restriction at any time (for a fee) by turning a tap. The more I turn the tap, the more I pay.

And that’s really the key — allocate network resources according to those willing to pay for it. Everyone wins.

I’ve always thought that a real evolution of advertising is moving from an inferred model to a interaction model; that is, instead of inferring qualities about a person (based on demographics, buying habits, etc.), it’s much better to involve people directly.

I did a interview recently with Light Reading that touched on this topic.

http://www.lightreading.com/document.asp?doc_id=172485

Salient details to save yourself the jump:

“One of the most powerful aspects of subscriber profiles is maintaining a subscriber’s real-time context, and using that context in concert with personal preferences to drive policies across networks,” says Chris Hoover, Openet’s director of Product Management. “In this sense, the subscriber profile forms the foundation for next-generation interactive services. These are services customized based on an aggregate understanding of who the subscriber is, what the preferences are, and real-time context in which the subscriber is moving – without regard to network or device.”

Openet’s Hoover points out that, historically, advertising has tended to be targeted on the basis of inferences made from proxy data – basic demographics, for example – rather than positive identifications of definite interest. Such interest identification is near-impossible to do indirectly, as it is difficult to infer that a subscriber is, say, allergic to cats, or avoids alcohol [ed. note: or avoids alcoholic cats...], or is thinking of buying a new car. Behavioral targeting based on the inferential analysis of past behavior helps, but there is always a risk that the inference will be wrong – or even offend.

“But there is actually a new opportunity, which is to bring the subscriber into a bidirectional mode,” Hoover says. “By including the subscriber as part of the network profile – essentially, the subscriber as an active network element – the profile can be much more accurate. This isn’t, however, a profile that is built solely by the subscriber, but rather in concert with the subscriber, and including inferential data.”

“But there is actually a new opportunity, which is to bring the subscriber into a bidirectional mode,” Hoover says. “By including the subscriber as part of the network profile – essentially, the subscriber as an active network element – the profile can be much more accurate. This isn’t, however, a profile that is built solely by the subscriber, but rather in concert with the subscriber, and including inferential data.”

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.

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 work for a company based in Ireland, and I travel to Dublin a lot. It’s a global lifestyle filled with parties and laughter, a jet-setting wonderland that only a very few get to enjoy. I know you’re jealous! And well you should be.

Take comfort. There’s always pictures through which you can live vicariously. Like this one, taken from my hotel window this morning. Ah, Ireland in January!

One of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen is a demo of Photosynth done by Blaise Aguera y Arcas at TED 2007. Photosynth is a kind of sophisticated web robot that can find images (e.g. by scouring sites like Flickr), automatically determine which images are of the same object, and knit those related images together into an amazing mosaic through which users can navigate.

It’s impossible to really understand how incredible this technology is by reading about it. Take a look at the demo for yourself, and visit the Photosynth site.

What really caught my attention, beyond the technology itself, is the social networking implications for Photosynth. It’s enables one to look at an object (say, Notre Dame, as in the TED demo) through the eyes of thousands of people simultaneously; it potentially represents our collective view of the world. Amazing.

My sporadic blogging oflate is due to a major change — I’m transitioning jobs, having finished my last day with my previous employer Friday only to get on a plane Saturday, fly to Ireland, and begin my first day with my new employer (based in Dublin) on Monday.

It’s been an amazing experience, not least because the trip has occasioned my first experience driving on the “wrong” side of the road. I’ve been nervous about it for some time; I imagined that I’d arrive in Ireland and my jet-lagged mind would turn the wrong way at the first intersection I encountered.

Well, so far so good. I rented my car, got lots of insurance, pushed and shoved my (modest) suitcase into the smallest car I’ve ever seen, much less driven, and started driving around on the left side of the road.

It’s an odd experience for two reasons. First, I’m not used to *thinking* about driving. It’s something for which I usually rely on muscle memory, saving all other cognitive processes for grumpily judging other drivers.

Second, the muscle memory is still very much there. I’m experiencing a kind of dual-mind in which I’m intellectually telling myself “stay left,” but every unconscious process I have is simultaneously pulling me the other direction. This duality really freaked me out when I was driving down a road and someone pulled onto the road from an intersection ahead of me. The other car turned to travel toward me, and my intellectual mind said “they are turning into the right lane,” but my body erupted in alarms “YOU’RE IN THE WRONG LANE! GET OVER!” My little car began swerving slightly to and fro as I fought with myself, but I made it through without driving off the road into the trees.

Only four more days to go, then I have to try and switch back to driving the “right” way. Ugh.

Anyone representing a product weaves the conversation along a continuum that includes absolute accuracy, accuracy in terms of planned developed, accuracy in terms of potential development, and just plain inaccuracy.

Software is abstract. From a product perspective it doesn’t exist in the sense that, say, an automobile exists, or a laundry detergent.  Software is ephemeral—so we can’t touch it, we can’t directly measure it, and we can’t see it.  This makes marketing and managing software products different from managing “traditional” products; it’s much more challenging, especially if the product is new or if it performs behind the scenes (such as a middleware product). The challenge means that product management or marketing is a rewarding career. It also means you’re probably going to screw up a lot.

This blog is about the things I’ve learned over the course of more than a decade of screwing things up.