The following was written by Adam Hofstetter. They express the thoughts many of us have had over the weekend. Expressed better than I could.
Used by permission
Every year, I am asked to speak to my school’s entire 11th grade about chessed (acts of kindness and charity). The first year was a week after terrorists murdered four innocent people at a kosher supermarket in Paris. Every year since then, I’ve given some version of the same speech.
Every year, I talk to them about how easy it is to lose hope in this broken world. I talk to them about the horrific events of September 11, 2001, which happened before this year’s 11th graders were born. I talk to them about how heartbreaking and painful and terrifying it was to watch on TV as the towers crumbled. I talk to them about how hopeless I felt.
And then I talk to them about what happened a few hours later when I walked, alongside thousands of fellow New Yorkers, across what is now called the Ed Koch Bridge into Queens to get home from work because trains, buses, and cars were barred from entering or leaving Manhattan. I talk about getting to the other side of the bridge and seeing dozens of ordinary Queens residents lined up to give us cups of water in case we were thirsty after the long walk on that unusually warm day. I talk to them about how that small act of kindness (that chessed) not only quenched my thirst but restored my hope and inspired me to do more to help people in need, and still inspires me today.
I talk to them about Mr. Rogers and his famous quote: “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ … To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother’s words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers — so many caring people in this world.”
And then I tell them that, as wonderful a woman as Mr. Rogers’s mother must have been, she was wrong. When tragedy strikes, our job is not to look for the helpers. Our job is to BE the helpers.
I talk to them about how to do that. I tell them that the key is to always ask yourself one simple question whenever disaster strikes: “What can I do to make things better?” No matter how far away you are or how insignificant you feel, there is always something tangible you can do to help.
I’ve spent a lot of time today trying to answer that question: “What can I do to make things better?” I don’t have any groundbreaking answers, but I’ve been inspired by several things I’ve seen and I’m moved to share them here.
You can hold a blood drive, like the Pittsburgh Penguins are doing tomorrow (https://thehill.com/blogs/blog-briefing-room/news/413550-pittsburgh-penguins-will-host-blood-drive-collection-to-help), so that when senseless violence comes to your community the victims can get proper medical treatment without delay. Contact your local blood bank to find out how to hold such an event. And if organizing an event is too much for you, you can donate blood on your own.
You can donate to HIAS, the 137-year-old organization whose life-saving work helping refugees from all over the world get settled in and acclimated to their new countries so infuriated the monster who murdered 11 Jews yesterday in Squirrel Hill: https://www.hias.org/ways-give. Better yet, get involved with HIAS and help them save lives: https://www.hias.org/take-action.
You can donate directly to Tree of Life to help the victims and their families cover medical and funeral expenses and help the congregation repair the building: https://www.gofundme.com/tree-of-life-synagogue-shooting.
You can donate to the GoFundMe campaign to show gratitude to the Pittsburgh Police for literally running into the line of fire to end yesterday’s massacre (four of them were shot in the process): https://www.gofundme.com/4xyy6bpw.
You can donate and/or volunteer to help protect a house of worship in your community, like more than 1,000 Muslims did for a synagogue in Norway a few years ago (https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/denmark/11427713/Muslims-form-ring-of-peace-to-protect-Oslo-synagogue.html).
And, especially if you usually don’t, you should attend prayer services at your chosen house of worship this coming sabbath to show them they have more support than they may think, to show the world that we will not be intimidated, and to pray to G-d to help us heal this broken world.
There are many other tangible ways we can help the people in pain, prevent or minimize the next act of senseless violence, or make the world a less hateful place. I know I don’t have all the answers. But I’m doing what I can. I hope you are, too.
The world needs more helpers. Let’s be the helpers.
– Adam Hofstetter
Here’s to the helpers. Let’s be the change we want to see in the world.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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When a baseball game cannot be completed because weather intervenes it’s postponed. Today’s entry here has been postponed due to baseball. Game three of the World Series between the Dodgers/Red Sox started at 6:10 Mountain Time. It’s still going as midnight rolls around.
I have lots of interesting stories. My daughter’s car replaces my son’s car in my “Bliss Garage.” I have another political post about transgender topics and how Ben Shapiro is wrong. My son’s football team won a state playoff game: he missed it, I didn’t. So many stories.
But, it’s the top of the 14th and the teams are tied 2-2. The rest of the post is postponed until tomorrow.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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Last week I “fixed” my son’s car. I replaced his fuel pump. I put “fixed” in quotation marks because, of course I didn’t fix it. I did manage to repair a major fire hazard, but the fuel pump stayed dead.
Well, today I fixed it. And I realized it was my fault it didn’t work. Last month I replaced the power steering pump and the alternator. I had to tear apart a good share of the engine to get to the power steering pump. And I ended up doing the repair three times. It was only a couple weeks after fixing the power steering pump that the fuel pump went out.
Here’s what was wrong with the fuel pump.
What you are looking at is the oxygen sensor wiring that was “pinched” between the alternator bracket and the engine block. Wires aren’t designed to be pinched. In fact, they tend to fray and eventually short out. It makes the entire system shut down. In fact, it behaves just like a fuel pump going out.
I put some of this stuff on the frayed wires.
I replaced the fuse, added a couple gallons of gas and the car started right up.
Working on cars always makes me a little philosophical. I had nothing to do with the failed power steering pump. But, by “fixing” the power steering pump, I broke the fuel pump. (Well, technically I broke the oxygen sensor, but that’s a minor point in hindsight.) To “fix” the fuel pump, I replaced the fuel pump, fuel filter and fuel pump relay. Oh, and in the process, I replaced the paracord holding the fuel tank to the car with an actual bolt.
The fuel pump project cost about $150. There was (probably) nothing wrong with the fuel pump. I can say with certainty that the fuel filter hadn’t ever been replaced. And of course, the safety factor around the paracord was huge.
But, this last repair, the step that actually got the car to go from “broken” to “working” didn’t actually cost anything at all. So, I spent $150 to fix a problem that didn’t exist (faulty fuel pump) and ended up fixing a potenitally deadly problem that I didn’t know existed (fuel tank held on by paracord.) Then, I spent $0 to fix a problem (pinched oxygen sensor wiring) that was my own mistake from a previous repair (replace power steering pump and alternator.)
I’ve spent a lot of time in the engine compartment and under my son’s car this summer. Maybe sometime I should ask him to actually give me a ride in it.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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Ever get zero done on your TODO list? Sure, you might say. When you get sick. Well, today I got sick. I don’t get sick a lot. This was pretty severe for me. All I wanted to do was lie in bed all day.
Well, except for the times I felt like dying would be less painful.
Yes, I’m a baby. It’s something like the flu or something. It shouldn’t be the flu since I got my flu shot. I hate getting flu shots, but this year I managed it.
And now I’m sick. When you mostly work on your own and your boss is on the other side of the country and doesn’t direct your day to day tasks, it’s hard to figure out how to be sick. I guess my company has a phone number I’m supposed to call. But, it’s not like there is a team member that I can call up and say, “Hey, I’m not feeling well today, could you take my. . .TODO list?”
I thought, “I’ll figure it out.” And then my phone rang. About 8:00AM. There was stuff broken at my call centers. . .all four of them. This is one of the things I do. This is what I’m best at: managing outages.
I stumbled out of bed and down to my home office. I took along a barf bucket because it seemed like a good idea and my office is a long way from the bathroom.
I got on the phone conference and started working the outage. I worked it through the morning. When noon came, I was not at all hungry. A trip to the bathroom made me feel like I’d never be hungry again.
I thought,
You know what I need? Ginger Ale. . and some crackers and orange juice.
We had none at home.
I’ll drag myself out to the store when this call is over and get them.
I worked the call all through the afternoon. My kids came home from school. My lovely wife came home from work.
Hey, Dad. It’s dinner time.
You guys go ahead without me.
I still wasn’t hungry although the thought of using the barf bucket was fading. Finally, as evening transitioned into late evening. We finished. The last task was to have every single agent (hundreds of them) log out and log back on. That takes a long time.
The problem was resolved and I shuffled upstairs. (My office is in the basement.) I fixed the last item on my son’s car for his broken fuel pump. Fortunately, driving takes place sitting down. I get my Ginger ale, Sprite, crackers and orange juice. I even ate and drank a little.
It’s funny, today was a sick day. Good thing I don’t get sick very often.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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I’ve shared here before my realization that anxiety, specifically Generalized Anxiety Syndrome has been living rent free in my head for a long time.
Many of you reached out, in concern. I appreciate it. You suggested, rightly, that it requires professional help to combat mental health issues. I agree. My first stop was the doctor. I have a prescription for Lexepro. I don’t know if it’s helping, but my lovely wife assures me that she’s seeing a difference. I’ll have to take her word for it.
Today was the start of Step Two: therapy. Considering I was diagnosed a couple of months ago, I’m coming to the therapy session a little late. In fact, when I first met with the doctor, she suggested therapy and set a return appointment for six week. At my six week checkup I had to admit to not following my doctor’s advice. I was taking the meds, but I hadn’t set up the therapy appointments.
Here’s the thing about anxiety, at least the flavor I’m drinking, the thought of setting up the appointment actually triggered greater anxiety. Like many people, my coping technique is avoidance. I can avoid scheduling an appointment for. . .a long time.
After the second doctor visit, my lovely wife realized this was an area she could help.
Would it help if I set up an appointment for you?
Ah. . .yeah, I guess it would.
Here’s the crazy part. I like talking to people. And talking about myself is one of my favorite subjects. In fact, I can easily fill a 53 minute hour without breaking a sweat.
I’ve been to therapy before, although not for anxiety. I told the therapist, (whose name I constantly forgot, but that’s another issue) all about my episodes of anxiety, my PTSD, my ADHD. I told her about times when I was literally paralyzed into inaction. We talked mostly about work. I’m good at my job. I get tons of accolades from my job. My job causes me stress, which is good. It has recently started to cause me anxiety, which is bad.
At one point the therapist stopped me.
This first meeting is supposed to be about intake questions, but if I can offer a bit of analysis, it sounds like you are triggered by circumstances where you don’t know the answer to a situation. . .but you feel you should know.
One time my lovely wife and I were at a nice restaurant. We were sitting at the bar waiting for our table to be available. The bartender was mixing us a drink that tasted vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was right on the tip of my tongue. (I want to apologize for that pun.) He attempted slight variations on it, but I simply couldn’t recognize it. As they called us for our table, he finally said, “Ginger Ale.” And just like that, the taste “clicked.”
The therapist’s statement was like that. Suddenly a whole bunch of my life suddenly came into focus. I started looking back through various experiences and each one seemed to further validate her assessment.
I’ve always been fairly self aware. That’s why this anxiety thing has been so hard for me. Until today, I didn’t understand why I act certain ways in certain circumstances. Of course, simply naming your demons won’t make them disappear. I still have work to do, but this one additional piece of insight has at least reassured me that there’s a path out of this Mirkwood.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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My son’s car is what you would call a junker. If you saw it trying to merge in front of you on the freeway, you’d give it plenty of room. Apparently in the past someone didn’t. Maybe plenty of someones.
I recently replaced the power steering pump. It took awhile. His car was out of commission for nearly a month. Finally I got it working. I’d never done a power steering pump before. I did his three times.
His car ran for about three weeks. Then, the fuel pump went out. I’ve been working on it for several weeks, finding time. Last week, I finally had some uninterrupted time to devote to it.
The fuel pump, not surprisingly, sits inside the fuel tank. The fuel tank is typically fifteen to twenty gallons. It’s a big steel tank that sits under your trunk. That puts it about 12 inches above the road. Nothing between the tank and the pavement.
The tank is held on your car by two steel straps. You can’t actually screw the tank to the car. It would be too dangerous.
It’s not complicated to change the fuel pump. You have to drain the tank, of course. Gasoline weighs about 8 lbs/gallon. A full tank can weigh between 120 and 160 lbs. That’s a lot of weight on those steel straps.
You have to disconnect the electrical wires and the fuel lines. I was replacing the fuel filter as well, so two more sets fuel lines. The fuel line connectors were pretty rusted. They actually push on and off with a simple tool. I spent a couple of hours wrestling with them.
After all that was done, it was time to remove the straps and lower the tank. I placed a floor jack and a couple of jack stands under the tank and went to remove the bolts that hold the straps in place. The straps that keep the 150 lbs fuel tank from dropping onto the road in a fiery explosion of fire and destruction.
The left one looked like this.
This is what the right side looked like.
That’s paracord. I wondered why someone would obscure the bolt with paracord and old wire ties. On closer inspection it was obvious that the paracord wasn’t obscuring the bolt. It had replaced the bolt.
My realitively simple fuel pump replacement had turned into a more complicated operation. I removed the one good bolt and cut off the paracord. The tank came out pretty easily.
Next, I turned my attention to the problem of the broken bolt. I started by shearing off the stub with a handheld grinder. A grinder throws out a tremendous amount of sparks. Normally operating a grinder that close to the fuel tank is a dangerous operation. But, considering my fuel tank was bone dry and sitting 20 feet away I felt pretty confident that we’d avoid an accident.
I tried drilling out the remains of the bolt. The end was welded into the frame, It became clear that even my titanium drill bits were not going to get much of a purchase on the hardened steel bolt. Finally, I picked a close spot and drilled a new hole. I couldn’t access it from the trunk, so it became a new pilot hole.
Replacing the pump is pretty simple. You just remove a locking ring, pull out the old pump and install the new one. The tank went back in pretty easily too. Reattach all the fuel lines, the new fuel filter, and the electrical connections.
A self-drilling screw took the place of the discarded paracord. It now looks like this.
I replaced the fuel pump relay and the 30 Amp fuse. I added a few gallons of gas and we were ready to test the new pump. My friend who gave me the car said the fuel pump was replaced recently. I told him whoever he paid to do the work cheated him. The pump I removed did look new, but the fuel filter certainly was not, and of course, no reputable mechanic would secure any part of a car with paracord, let alone a steel tank full of flamable fuel.
Incidentally, when we turned on the key to test the new fuel pump it immediately blew the fuse. My repair had not only not fixed the fuel pump issue, the problem may not have even been with the fuel pump at all.
In the coming days, I’ll check the oxygen sensor, and then the six individual fuel injectors. And if none of those are faulty I’ll trace the wires down and see if one has become worn and frayed.
But, I don’t view my time replacing the fuel pump as a failure. In fact, I’m glad I went through the process. The most important thing I did was screw a $0.59 piece of metal into a hole I drilled.
Yes, definitely a success.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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I’d like to try skydiving before I die.
Just not right before I die.
-comedian Josh Gret
I’m not thinking of dying any time soon. As Mark Twain said,
Reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.
-Mark Twain
Not that anyone has reported my demise. Poor Mr Clemons obituary was printed in a paper.
But, I’ve given thought to where I want my final resting place to be. History is important to my family. I’ve always considered that I’m from Washington. I was born there. My mother and her ancestors were born there. My father and grandfather are buried there.
And yet, my father and grandfather were born in Great Falls, Montana. A distant grandfather was part of the Mormon migration. He was with Brigham Young on July 24, 1847 when the first group of Mormon pioneers arrived in the Salt Lake valley.
Tracing further back, my people are from Laurel County, Kentucky. Going back even further my ancestors fought at the battles of Lexington, Concord and Bunker Hill in the colony of Massachusetts.
Some ancestors were here as early as the mid-1600’s.
I recently did a DNA test. My ancestory is British Isles, Scotland, Ireland and England. With a little bit of German thrown in. So, even though my family has been in America since before it was the United States of America, I’m a descent of immigrants.
I realized that actually, “my people” are from no specific place. Like vagabonds through time and space. My connection to any location is what I choose to make of it.
I decided to be buried in here in Utah. I plan to live to be 113, so I figure I’m less than half way there.
I’ve lived in Utah for more than half of my adult life. I don’t actually know how long. My children have been born here. . .many of them at least. All my children live within driving distance. My grandchildren, five living and one deceased, are here in Utah.
I’m not sure at what point I became “from” Utah. Perhaps when my mother left Washington to retire to Arizona. Perhaps when my oldest grandson was buried in Santaquin, Utah. Perhaps it was none of these. Perhaps it was none of these, or all of these.
Even though, I won’t really care where I’m buried. You know, because I’ll be dead. Still, it’s comforting to know that on Memorial Day when my descendants gather to remember their ancestors, it will be in a place I’m from.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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On it’s face, it wasn’t an offensive comment. In fact, everyone had a the best of intentions.
I’m part of a private Facebook group. Actually, several, but this one in particular is a group of people brought together by our connection to a popular comedian. The group is people that he’s met over the years and enjoys interacting with. So, we’re all strangers, and yet friends of friends.
The group, or forum has a single rule. It’s best described as “Don’t be a jerk.”
This group is, if not unique on the internet, at least not the norm. To help the group get to know each other, we have “theme days.” Monday is “Plug Yourself” day. Anyone that has anything exciting coming up, tells us about it. We share each others successes.
Tuesday is “Today I Learned.” We sometimes point out the trivial, or the inane. Other times, it’s something more interesting. On Fridays, of course, it’s talk of the coming weekend and plans.
But, it’s Wednesday that gets the most traffic. Wednesday is “Pet Peeve” day. They are pet peeves, or things that angered us, or upset us. Some are serious. Some are trivial. They are literally pet peeves.
And that’s the fun of it. In most situations you are discouraged from sharing your pet peeves. Many of them are “first world problems.”
One young man shared an experience from work. A coworker had spoken harshly to him. He let it get to him for a couple of days. It caused some issues with his boss.
This was exactly what Pet Peeve Wednesday was designed for. Several people chimed in with appropriate affirmations. One person offered advice on how to deal with the stress.
I try deep breathing. Work on minimizing the stress of it and let it go.
I fail to see how that is relevant to my situation.
I was just trying to help. And if you don’t see how it’s relevant, that’s cognitive dissonance.
It was a mild disagreement, but surprisingly even among strangers in our little group. And it got worse.
I talk about a problem and you throw it back as my problem and tell me to just practice deep breaths. If I told you my coworker had punched me in the face, would you offer the same advice?
I’m a trained psychologist. This is what I do. Now I understand why Republicans think Liberals are such snowflakes.
There was some harsher language included as well.
We called a brief huddle of the moderators in a private Messanger chat. A couple of us reached out to him and explained the problem. Publically we issued a warning.
I tried to think about why this issue had escalated. I finally figured it out and posted a comment, not directed at anyone in particular, but obviously aimed at the previous conversation.
Remember, that unless someone asks for help getting over their pet peeve, this thread is really about rants.
We are all an expert in something and sometimes the tendency is to jump in and solve a problem we are experienced with. However, sometimes people just want to rant.
That’s what this thread is for.
We’re all friends here.
I think the advice extends beyond that small internet group. We all want to feel validated. Many of us just want to help other people. And sometimes, we know exactly how to help them.
But, we need to understand that sometimes people just want to vent.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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Novell held a big convention every year in Salt Lake City, called Brainshare. It was held in the Salt Palace in Salt Lake City. There was plenty of floor space.
Novell had the biggest booth, of course. Other vendors had various sized booths. From small 10×10 booths, to large 40×40 or even bigger. And my brother’s company GWAVA had the biggest of all. As Novell’s footprint diminished, GWAVA emerged as the proverbial “big fish in a small pond.”
It wasn’t my brother’s company any longer, actually. He had left the company some months before. At his level, (Senior marketing executive) you typically resign “to spend more time with your family” or some other excuse.
My brother had left GWAVA, but his wife, my sister-in-law still worked there. I was working for a large non-profit in Salt Lake City. I was a technology guy working a technology job. Brainshare was a convention for technology people and was all about technology jobs.
My point is that I was exactly the demographic that Brainshare catered to. And it has historically been my favorite convention. And it was in my home town, no need to travel. And a friend got me a free pass.
What could go wrong?
Yeah, I couldn’t really think of anything either. But, it didn’t take long for trouble to find me.
On the first day of the week long conference, I walked around the convention floor. I stopped in and visited with old friends who make products that worked with Novell. And finally, I wandered through the large GWAVA booth. I was really looking for my sister-in-law. We weren’t close, but she lived in california and I didn’t get to see or my brother as often as I would have liked.
She wasn’t at the booth that day. I talked to old friends. But, I kept myself to “safe” topics.
How’s your brother?
Oh, he’s good.
What’s he working on?
You know, he’s exploring his options and enjoying some downtime.
I knew every statement I made would be scrutinized and analyzed. These people who had worked with him would look for hidden hints and meanings in my most innocuous statements. I was determined not to reveal a thing. And I didn’t.
I chatted for a few minutes, said my goodbyes and wandered elsewhere to see new product demos.
The second day I made sure to stop by the GWAVA booth early so I had a chance to catch my sister-in-law before her meetings started. And that’s when I figured out that my relationship wasn’t what I thought it was.
Hey, it’s good to see you again.
Come with me!
What?
I need to talk to you and not in my booth!
Okay. . .what’s up?
You are ruining my job! What were you thinking coming by here yesterday! You’re ruining everything! What were you doing?
Mostly I just came by to say hi to you. . .
Okay, fine! You’ve said hi. Now, I need you to stay out of my booth and away from GWAVA employees!
Sure. Can I get a hug?
I’m still not sure why I asked for the hug. I was still trying to figure out where the family and the business side connected.
I called and went over it with my brother.
She’s just really stressed about having a good show.
Yeah, I know. But, does she actually understand how much I could screw her life up if I actually wanted to?
No, she doesn’t. But, I do.
She and my brother eventually split up. Novell became Micro Focus and they eventually bought out GWAVA.
I never did try to screw up her life, but only because I didn’t really care about it after that.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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I created my own most recent title about a year ago. I might have helped create my previous title 30 years ago.
My job is to be the IT “glue” between our technical teams, our operations teams and our client. I changed managers about eighteen months ago during a minor reorg. I have a real boss in IT and I have an acting boss in Operations. My real boss explained the new organization to me.
You’ll technically report to me, but I expect you to work with Darren for everything you need. He and I will coordinate on your reviews. Any questions?
Not really. Sounds like I just keep doing what I’ve been doing.
Yep. But, you’ll need a new title.
What is it?
I don’t know. Why don’t you see what you can come up with.
Despite what you might think, and the suggestion that “When they tell you to write your own check: right a big check,” I did not have unlimited options for my title. For example, my boss is a Senior Vice President. But, no way was I getting a title with “VP” or “director” in it.
We ended up with IT Operations Specialist. It’s appropriately vague to allow me the latitude to do whatever I need to get done. I don’t often tell people my title. It rarely matters. Most people think I’m a Technical Account Manager, or TAM.
That was the title I had before the reorg. And in a ironic twist that proves if you stay in this business long enough, everything comes back around, I helped pioneer the role of TAM 30 years ago at WordPerfect corporation.
I was the first TAM, but not the first to hold that title. One of the early adopters of WordPerfect’s email system was the Environmental Protection Agency, the EPA. They had trouble getting it to work. They were trying to host 30,000 email accounts on a system designed for 5% that many. They became frustrated at having to explain their system every time they called in for support. I was tapped to “make it work.” I had the latitude to do whatever I needed to do to get the job done.
Over the course of about 6 months, several cross country trips from Utah to Washington DC and Research Triangle Park, I did it. I got their system built and stable. This success laid the foundation for both WordPerfect’s Strategic WordPerfect Assistance Team (SWAT) and their Technical Account Manager (TAM) roles.
Being a SWAT team members was a way cooler title than being a TAM. But, honestly, the clients, WordPerfect’s biggest accounts, were really just interested in us fixing their problems.
That sounds a lot like my current role. No one really cares about my title, including me. They just want me to fix the problems and make it work.
Rodney M Bliss is an author, columnist and IT Consultant. His blog updates every weekday. He lives in Pleasant Grove, UT with his lovely wife, thirteen children and grandchildren.
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