What gets measured, improves
It’s the mantra of every Six Sigma acolyte. Every PMP project manager. Everyone who’s ever read a performance improvement book of any kind. If you want to get better numbers, measure it. And it’s true. Of course, it’s true. (I have a PMP certification, after all.) But, it’s not always true.
I drove to Louisville, Kentucky to London, Kentucky on Sunday. It was a wonderful day. The drive was pleasant. I was driving a beautiful 2018 Ford Mustang. The weather was too cool to put the top down, but that didn’t change the enjoyment of driving through the Kentucky countryside.
The 2018 Mustang has lots of bells and whistles. It has some pretty sophisticated tools for calculating miles per gallon. It also has some settings that let you pretty much trade gas for thrills. The more you use those settings the worse the gas milage gets. On the trip from the airport to the hotel, I was averaging about 24 MPG. Not bad for a big V8 muscle car. I have to admit that over the ensuing week, I used the throttle more than the brake. My gas milage dropped to 14 MPG.
It was fun.
As I started on the 2 hour drive to London, I decided to switch gears. . .literally. I opted for gas milage over speed. I drove conservatively, and the onboard computer calculating the miles per gallon rewarded me with ever increasing milage numbers. The longer I drove the higher the numbers climbed.
It was a game to help pass the miles. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty. The miles stretched away. The time between each increase gradulally became longer and longer. The nature of averages means that I would never get it back to that mythical 24 MPG. And all of that recklessness meant ever more miles to even get to 20 MPG.
I thought about numbers. They are funny things, numbers. My company bases a lot of its compensation on numbers. Suppose that I decided to measure MPG as a metric for how well I was driving. After all, the better you drive, the higher the MPG, right? So, if it was a contest and the winner is whoever has the best MPG rating, what kind of behavior would that reinforce? You might think I’d be tempted to drive like an old woman on her way back and forth to church. Gradual acceleration. Gradual stops.
But, I’m in a car that screams to be let loose. So, I drove it like I stole it for four days and now I have to start worrying about the miles per gallon. What do I do? As the day of reckoning gets closer, I decide that I’m ready to start working on my MPG rating. How do I get the number higher? I drive more.
And that’s the crazy part. MPG measures how conservatively you drive. Higher gas milage means saving money on fuel. And the way to boost that the rating that measures fuel economy is to use more fuel. If I simply measured one metric, I’m going to encourage the very behavior I’m trying to avoid. Namely using more fuel.
Sometimes trying too hard to force a particular behavior can fail if you measure the wrong thing.
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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That’s how Lady Caroline Lamb described Lord Byron.
I have met some men in my time who were mad. Not the angry kind, althought many of those, but the crazy type. I have family that could be considered mad. And they would find the label apt and laugh at it.
I’ve known a few bad men. Not as many as think they were bad, but a few. Some were bad as in dangerous. Some were bad as in mean. Some were just untrustworthy.
Yesterday, I met a man dangerous to know. I don’t know if he’s mad. I kind of hope he is. It would make the stories he told more palatible somehow. He was certainly a bad man, at least in his youth. And not, gang related bad. More like “overthrowing countries” bad.
It was a fascinating and terrifying conversation. He is an old man now. He let drop comments in casual conversation that seemed. . .telling. He’s the first person I’ve ever met who used the word “the company” to refer to the CIA. And it was not a brag, it was part of a description. Slipped into a conversation as casually, as he might say, “The postman,” or “The baker.” He knows guns. Able to talk at length and in detail about the various aspects of sniper rifles, ballistics and aiming systems.
His hearing is going, “Too many years firing weapons systems,” so mostly he talked and I listened. He spoke knowingly about revolutions in Asia, in South America. “The ones we put in were no better than the ones we took out, but they were ours.” He spoke of being a “frogman.” That was the WWII group that became the Navy Seals.
Was he boasting? Maybe a little. Despite being on supplemental oxygen, his voice was firm, but not loud. He also seemed always just about to say something else. But, rarely did. But, I don’t think it was a boast. He seemed wracked with guilt. “I’m not proud of much of what I did.” He seemed surprised to be an old man. “When I turned 35, I had achieved the life expectancy for someone in my position. When I turned 70, well, I had doubled it.”
He also seemed anxious to share, to teach, to warn. “When I was working with people, I said, ‘listen up,’ I’m only this old because I am good at figuring out how to stay alive. I literally wrote the book on dirty tricks.” I believed him.
I’m sure you are reading this waiting for the payoff. Waiting for some bit of juicy detail or anecdote that would validate his statements. I don’t have any. Honestly, after a half hour, I didn’t want to know any names, dates or people. And after an hour, I wondered if he was armed, sitting in his rocker with his oxygen tubes sticking in his nose. And after 90 minutes, I didn’t really want to ask any more questions.
He dropped a few consiracy theory phrases that made me a little suspiecious. He’s a ballistics expert and claims the information about the assassination of Kennedy in the Warren Report is false, because it’s impossible. Oswald was killed to keep him from talking. He said that JFK was the only Kennedy that he respected. He named names of those whose actions led to the decision to kill Kennedy. Jokingly, I asked, “But, we went to the moon, right?” I think I disappointed him. He paused a moment and said rather quitely, “Yes, we went to the moon.” And then, he said the most insightful comment I’ve ever heard about conspiracy theories. He almost chuckeled as he said, “Just remember, conspiracy theories are created by professionals. . .on purpose.”
Where do old spies go to retire? I never really considered it. I won’t tell you where I was, or give any informaiton about who he was. He didn’t tell me that I had to keep it quiet, but it seems like a wise idea. I’m sorry I can’t tell you who he was or where we met. Probably nothing would happen. Probably no one would care. Probably.
As I said, he’s an old man now. I would estimate he is 85 or so. Based on his story, I think he was born in the 1930s. As we said our goodbyes I reached out to shake his hand. His grip was a vice, like granite. “Come back anytime. You’re always welcome.”
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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Travel as much as possible
I read as a young man starting out in business. I realized yesterday, as if I needed any reminder, that I am no longer a young man. I’m still in Lexington, Kentucky. My big 18 month, high-profile project roles on. For this trip we added an additional desktop engineer to our travelling team. We decided that we needed the extra help in Lexington. Calvin has done an awesome jobo.
Last night we went to dinner at Mark’s Feed Store. Calvin, James, our report specialist, and me. We were technically peers, but it was clear that I was the senior person present. I’ve worked with Calvin and James for years. In fact, they started in our operations team. They have worked their way up from agents to mission control analysts and now they are in roles with slightly more responsibility. However, if I were asked, they were men that I would choose for my team.
Men. . .yes, technically, but it was obvious that when I was their age, they were not. As in “not yet born.” Normally, I don’t feel old. “Age is just a number.” “You’re as young as you feel.” All that stuff. Nope. Not feeling it. Definitely feeling my years.
The conversation ranged all over. One of the most mild comment was
Mother Teresa is kind of like Hitler.
As, they delivered the free slices of buttermilk pie (free to first time diners if you ask) the conversation turned to travel. I’ve been travelling for business since my WordPerfect Days back in the early 1990’s. This was Calvin’s first trip and James had started travelling when he got added to the project team. And while they were both doing a great job, They were not making some of the stupid mistakes I made over the years. But, I realized that maybe I had some knowledge to share.
Okay, you guys are doing great on the trip, so don’t take this the wrong way. There are a few travel rules you might find useful.
RULE 1: Don’t Wear A T-shirt To Texas
Okay, it didn’t say this exactly, but that’s how i remember it. It was my first trip for Microsoft. The Redmond based company had a typical dress code. You had to wear clothes. I was fairly conservative: I wore pants. On my first trip I took basic jeans and t-shirt. Unfortunately, the trip was with my boss. He noticed. I don’t even bring jeans anymore. But, I do make sure to wear pants. . and no t-shirt.
RULE 2: Skip the Surf & Turf at Sizzler
Again, I was with my boss. He was taking the team out to eat. I opted for the steak and lobster. It was the most expensive thing on the menu and more than my boss was ordering. Keep your entree choices in the middle of the menu price range. And if possible, don’t buy something that costs more than your boss.
RULE 3: Don’t get Drunk
Even if you have a totally cool boss, don’t over indulge.
While you are travelling, you are always on stage, always being watched. Make sure that you conduct yourself in a way that you wouldn’t mind being discussed at the next senior management meeting.
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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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2017 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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I’m a geek, I admit it. I can add binary numbers. (101+111= 1100.) I’m a huge Star Trek fan (If Kirk fought Picard, Kirk would win easily. Picard would say, “Let’s talk abou this” and then Kirk would kill him.) My first program was recorded on cassette tape.
I watched the PC revolution from the beginning. I have used a brick phone. I was a CompuServe users, but never Prodigy, it was too expensive. I worked for WordPefect, Novell and Microsoft.
My point is that I’m pretty familiar with computers. And there are certain things that are not on my Christmas list. I am not interested in a anything that will automate my home. I’m not interested in Alexa, Siri, Cortana or that weird Google assistant who doesn’t seem to have a name.
I don’t want an automated thermostat, or a doorbell that is wired to the internet. I don’t much care for security cameras or a wireless baby monitor. Sure, I no longer have a baby, or toddler at my house, but even if I did, especially if I did, I don’t want a wireless baby monitor.
It comes down to security. Computer security always comes down to a matter of security vs convenience. A password of “mydogskippy” is more convenient to remember than “Il0O1xy7&1.” But, the second password is more secure.
This Christmas there are going to be tons of convenient electronic assitants. The companies behind the digital butlers are even starting to work closer together. Alexa and Google have become friends and will talk to each other now. It will not be long before all of your digital servants can easily share information. . .about you.
And that’s the problem. Any system is hackable. Virtually every system in the world has suffered breakins. A story last month described a man whose cell phone was hacked and his microphone was turned on and someone, we honestly don’t know who, was listening to everything he said.
That digital device sitting on your living room table has it’s microphone all the time, by design. What a hacker did by stealth, Google, Microsoft and others do on purpose. And how does Alexa know when you want to talk to her? You say the word, “Alexa” and she answers. That’s pretty simple. But, how does Alexa know that you said the word Alexa? She listens for her name. And in the mean time she hears everything that you are saying.
There was a recent case where a man was convicted for murder. Part of the evidence against him was provided by his digital eavesdropper. A common refrain from people who advocate for more digital incursion into our lives is “If you have nothing to hide, you shouldn’t be worried.” That’s a stupid excuse for literally listening in on every heart to heart talk; every fight, every romantic evening. If a person wanted to come over and listen in on everything said in your house, you’d throw him out in the street. If someone wanted to place a tape recorder under your kids bed and come by and collect the tapes every couple of days, you’d be justifiably freaked out.
But, you (or your friends) will go out and buy a spy to place in your home. And I don’t blame you. They are really convenient. Deceptively convenient, in fact. Just be aware that convenience comes at a price. A price that isn’t printed on the box, and won’t show up on your credit card statement.
Some of you are probably thinking I’m paranoid. “Really, Rodney? The big-bad-google is going to spy on me while I’m watching Game of Thrones? And what’s it going to do with that data? Spoil the plot secrets?”
Honestly, I don’t know. Most of the information you say in your house, if it’s like mine is pretty ordinary. I’m not going to commit a murder that law enforcement can pull off of my digital notekeeper. I’m not going to be sharing any big secrets. In fact, my conversations are pretty boring. I might be tempted to say, “Go ahead. Record away. I have nothing to hide.”
But, I won’t. Just because I don’t know how the data might be used doesn’t mean that I want to let others have it. Remember me mentioning the wireless baby monitors? They have also been hacked. In fact, there’s a whole internet subculture devoted to hacking an sharing baby monitor streams, typically video cameras.
Do I have anything to hide? What do I have to protect? Everything.
Not inviting Cortana to stay at my house this holiday season, or putting Google on my Christmas list.
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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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2017 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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I admit I shouldn’t care as much as I do. Business travel is pretty boring. My company tries to make it as inexpensive and efficient as possible. My boss and I agree on the dates I need to travel and I submit a request. Then, corporate travel books the airline, hotel and car.
I have some influence of course. For example, I’ve decided I’m not taking that 6:00AM flight out of Salt Lake City again. Some of my coworkers actually research their flights and request specific flights. My boss, for example books 30 minute layovers. (He’s a runner.) We’re in Lexington, KY this week. I requested to stay at Marriot Residence Inn. The one next to a Walgreens and only two miles from the site.
My boss decided we should all stay at the same hotel, so I requested a changed hotel and now I’m next to the site and two miles from the Walgreens. What we don’t typically change is the rental car. I request a compact car and the company takes care of the rest. Typically, they aren’t memorable. I think I drove a Kia Flex? It was a box on wheels. My boss and I ended up in some subcompact in Florida a few months ago. It’s basically luck of the draw.
And on this trip I drew the lucky straw.
This is my rental car.
Honestly, I had no choice. The guy at the rental counter seemed almost sorry. (Well, that’s what he said!)
I’m sorry, Mr Bliss, we’re going to have to upgrade you for free. All we have left is a 2018 Mustang. . .convertible.
He seemed genuinely sorry. Anyway, I’m now driving a car that is the most recent car in a line of cars that I adore. The first Mustang was the 1964 1/2. Maybe it’s only a coincidence that I was born in the latter half of 1964. Maybe it’s a sign. I’ve always loved Mustangs. I owned a 1966 red Mustang in college. I collect 1/64 scale Mustangs. Sure, you can call them Hot Wheels, but some of them are $15 hand-painted, collectors items. Okay, some of them are $0.97 Hot Wheels.
And now I’m driving one.
The weather is too cold to put the top down. Just figuring out the instrument panel was a challenge. The manual shifters located behind the steering wheel were fun. The roads are slick, so I’ve been pretty careful. In fact, for the first couple of days, the onboard computer told me I was getting 24 MPG. That’s almost as good as my six cylinder 12 year old Grand Prix that I drive on a daily basis.
I felt a little more adverturous going to dinner tonight and all of a sudden I’m getting 17 MPG.
It’s a car. Basically, it’s designed to get me from my hotel to the site and maybe out to dinner and back to the hotel. It doesn’t matter if it’s a four cylinder rolling pill box, or an eight cylinder monster. No, it really doesn’t matter. But, honestly, it was a problem. Our entire team has their own cars while we are here in Lexington.
The real problem wasn’t my rental car, it was my boss’s rental car. See, I had to leave the hotel at the same time as him. I had to leave the site the same time he did. I had to go to dinner and park in the same parking lot. My boss probably wouldn’t really care if the rental agency put me into a sports car. The real problem was his car. This is the one they gave him.
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.
Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2017 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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I published a controversial post a couple weeks ago. (How To Lose A Third Generation Customer.) I did something I haven’t done in the past, I named a business, and a local business at that. A beloved local business.
I then posted a link to the story in a Facebook group that is for citizens of my local community of Pleasant Grove. The reaction was surprising.
First the issue. “How To Lose A Third Generation Customer describes my attempt to exchange a Craftsman socket at a local store. As a result of not being able to make the exchange, I opted to no longer buy Craftsman (I’m the 3rd generation of my family that has purchased Craftsman) and to stop frequenting the local store that carries Craftsman.
Is it an overreaction to let that one event determine my shopping preferences? Probably. But, if I’m going to go out to buy something, and I know the big box store will have it and I’m not sure if the local hardware store will have it, it’s just easier to go where I know it will be. I was pretty clear in my post that I didn’t think the store had done anything “wrong” and I certainly was not suggesting anyone else should stop shopping there.
Guess, what I got accused of by the community defenders in my little town? Yep, they wanted to know why I assumed the store employees were wrong and how dare I suggest that others stop shopping there. We had quite an interesting discussion before the moderator decided that the thread had become too negative.
The Double Standard
One group of attacks centered around people’s experience at the local business. The business really is a wonderful store. It’s been part of Pleasant Grove for generations. In a city of 46,000, this business and it’s owners have touched just about everyone in the community in some way or other. People recounted to me the wonderful experiences they had there. The helpful sales staff. The wonderful charity work that was done by the owners. And it was all true. In fact, I agreed with everything these people said.
But, without a trace of irony, they accused me of trying to influence other people’s shopping choices based on my own experience. Completely ignoring the fact that they were trying to influence other people’s shopping choices based on their own experience. A couple of people noticed it, but most found it completely unacceptable for me to attempt to influence them, but completely acceptable for them to try to influence me.
But, of course, I wasn’t. I didn’t suggest anyone stop shopping there. In fact, I encouraged people to continue to frequent the business. Several people suggested that because of my “hit job” on the business, it would generate a groundswell of support for them headed into the holiday season. I assured them that no one would be happier than me, if that turned out to be the case.
Ad hominem ad nausium
And ad hominem attack is one that is based on emotions, or “attacking the messenger.” And there were plenty of people more than willing to attempt to refute my article by attacking me and my skill as a writer. One person went to the trouble of researching my Twitter account.
You haven’t had a single tweet LIKED or RETWEETED in the past six months!
Yes, that’s correct. I am always surprised when someone RETWEETS one of my posts. Generally, it’s some geeky IT post that might get the odd RETWEET. But, Twitter is definitely the quietest of my social media accounts.
Another attempted to demean my reach or influence. They were sure that no one reads my blog and I’m simply “a legend in my own mind.”
Actually, in the 12 hours that this post has been up, it’s been read by people in the USA, UK, India, China, Brazil, Sourth Korea and Yeman. Considering the local nature of the topic, I’m kind of surprised it’s had the interenational reach it has. I’m pretty sure I know my readership better than you do.
By, by far, my favorite critcism was the person who accused me of specifically writing to generate a response.
You are just trying to get more people to follow you and read your blog!
Yes, I am. That’s actually how blogs work.
Most of the local people completely missed the message of the post, which was “It’s really easy to lose a long time customer.” Fortunately, people from outside my little town understood that message.
(Oh yeah, one more thing, apparently my signature block is clear evidence that I’m just trying to sell . . .something.)
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.
Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2017 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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I was safe. . .wasn’t I?
I tried breathing techniques. . .but every breath came as a gasp.
It was a situation I’d been in literally hundreds of times before. . .but it was different this time. So very different, yesterday.
I once booked a trip for my mother and myself. I was living in Washington state not far from my mother. My brother and his wife had a new baby in Utah. We were headed down for the baby blessing.
Rodney, go ahead and book the tickets and I’ll pay you back.
We ended up in Row 28. My mother’s reaction was curious. It can best be described as quiet terror.
That’s the closest you could get?
What do you mean?
There wasn’t anything closer to the front of the plane?
Not really. It’s a pretty crowded flight. Are you okay?
It will be fine.
It wasn’t fine. Somewhere in the years since I’d left home, my mother had developed a phobia. The prospect of being at the back of an airplane was terrifying to her. We took the flight and while she was tense, it was the end that really surprised me. As soon as the plane pulled up to the gate, she literally sprinted up the aisle.
It scared me a little. Was that a fate in store for me?
I travel a lot. I’ve always travelled a lot. This week I’m in Lexington, KY to migrate our call center to a new networking platform. I travelled yesterday. My flight didn’t leave Salt Lake City until 8:30AM. But, it was on a Sunday. My return is scheduled for Saturday. Salt Lake has a reasonable light rail/heavy rail system that links my home in Utah county with the airport 40 miles away. I like taking the train. After a trip, it’s nice to not have to fight traffic. But, the trains don’t run on Sunday. My choices were drive myself to the airport or take a shuttle. (No, I didn’t consider an Uber. . .because I’m old and apparently like living 20 years in the past.)
If I drove, I needed to leave at 6:30AM. The only shuttle available had a pickup time of 5:00AM. Again, because I’m not smart enough to find other alternatives, I opted for the shuttle. I’ll just go to bed early, right? Wrong.
Our client did maintenance on Saturday night. The maintenance started at 11:30PM and went until 1:00AM. I got about 3 hours of sleep. I think that might have contributed. My company has a policy for business expenses, of course. In their case, I can expense food on a travel day, but not if the place I bought it from is in Salt Lake City. So, if I bought breakfast at the airport, I’d have to foot the bill.
I suppose I could have had something at home before I left, and in hindsight that would have been a great idea. Instead, I opted to fast until I got to Atlanta. So, I’m tired and I’m hungry and I’m in seat 43C. A long way from the front of the plane.
When I was a young man of 24, I attempted to join the Army. My plan was to join the ROTC and the National Guard. It was a way to pay for school and also serve in the military. I failed the physical. It was probably my own fault. The day of the test, I got up at 4:00AM to be at the recruiting center at 5:00AM. Again, too little sleep and no food. I passed out and had a seizure. First and only time that ever happened. In my defense, they did give me a nasty hematoma when they took my blood, and that contributed. An army doctor met with me where I admitted that I don’t do well with needles and blood. (A result of some tramatic hospital exeriences when I was young.)
We’re not sure anyone explained to you what a soldier does, son.
We weren’t at war, and that was the end of my army career.
I didn’t pass out yesterday, but in the middle of my panic attack, I considered that it was probably not a great idea to fast on too little sleep. Because that’s what it was: a full blown panic attack sitting on the airplane waiting to take off. At least it had all the hallmarks of the beginning of one.
About six months ago I went in for an MRI. Ever had an MRI? They load you into a tiny space and take pictures with magnets. I’m fine with small spaces. . .or I used to be. As they started to slide me in I stopped the tech.
Whoa, whoa. Hand on just a minute.
Is there a problem?
I’m not claustrophobic, but what if I was? What would be my options?
Well, you can go get a prescription for Valium. We’ll reschedule the test and you will definitely not be able to drive home afterward. Or, we could put a washcloth over your face to prevent you from opening your eyes.
(Who thought THAT was a good idea?)
I think I just need to know that I could get out if needed. If your machine breaks can I get myself out of that tube?
Ha, ha. I’m the same way. Yes. If you choose to, you could climb out the top of the tube.
Okay, I’m good. Let’s go.
I just remembered to breathe. It was fine. Yesterday wasn’t fine and it was getting worse as the plane took off. I tried drinking some water. I had forgotten to stock snacks in my carry-on, so I was till hungry. Finally, the trolley cart came by with overpriced sandwiches.
Yes, I’ll take a turkey sandwich, please.
That’ll be $9.
(Technically, we were not in Salt Lake anymore. Best I could estimate we were somewhere over Nebraska. I also popped two Benedryle.
The episode passed. But, the impression it left was terrifying. I have a coworker who refuses to fly. Even a train is terrifying for him if there’s a long tunnel. I suddenly had a lot more sympathy for him.
Lessons learned:
- Get enough rest the night before a flight
- Don’t fly hungry
- Identify the exits and mentally count the rows between my seat and the exit row
- Distract myself so I don’t think about the number of people between me and the front of the plane
- Maybe get a prescription for Valium
Apparently I am definitely my mother’s son.
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.
Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
Facebook (www.facebook.com/rbliss)
LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2017 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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You want to leave. Maybe you feel like they want you to leave. Let’s not drag out the inevitable, right? I mean that other job is sitting there waiting and they wanted you to start yesterday. And you’d rather be over there anyway. What difference will two weeks make? You wouldn’t drag out a breakup with your girlfriend. Just make a clean break.
Don’t do it.
If the choice is yours, you owe it to yourself to at least offer the two weeks notice. It’s important. Even if they tell you “Let’s make today your last day,” you will be remembered for making the offer.
My kids didn’t care. They saw zero value in telling the really mean manager at Wendy’s that they would work for another two weeks. They had taken my advice and not quit their job before finding another job. The new job was wonderful (Just like the old job at been.) They were going to carpool with friends who also worked there. It was going to be awesome. And the old job was terrible. The people were rude.
Do I HAVE to give two weeks notice?
No, it’s up to you and there’s no law about it. But, you should.
But, why? I’m never going to work at Wendy’s again.
Do you remember Labor Day weekend?
Yeah.
Do you remember that you had to go in and work even though you’d requested the day off?
Yes. It sucked. That’s the kind of stuff I want to avoid!
Do you remember WHY you had to go in on your day off?
Yes, that loser Jason didn’t bother to show up and we were slammed with a rush. . .Oh. . .
Even if you never want to work at a particular company ever again, it’s still worth it to finish out your final two weeks. If you don’t do it for your bosses, do it for your coworkers.
But, what about when you get into corporate jobs? Still important?
Okay, it was a company layoff, not me attempting to quit, but it fit into the category. WordPerfect was downsizing. They were willing to take volunteers. Microsoft had just made me an offer. It was perfect timing. For people who took the severance package, we were allowed to pick our last day in a two week window. Most people naturally picked the last possible day. I mean, those last two weeks are not going to be very productive, and they didn’t already have a job, so why not keep pulling down a paycheck for a few more days?
Except, I had a job. I told my boss I was taking the layoff package.
Oh? We weren’t planning to lay off anyone in your department. . .I mean, everything is. . .um. . .potentially. . .on the list. When do you want your last day to be?
A week from Friday like everybody I guess.
Where are you headed?
Microsoft.
At the time, WordPerfect was bleeding like a losing gunfighter. And Microsoft was holding the smoking gun. I wasn’t anyone important. i was support operator, “Thank you for calling WordPerfect support, how may I assist you today?” I was not anyone strategic.
Here’s the other half of the two week notice. When you give your two weeks AND you announce you are going to a competitor, the gracious thing to do, the SAFE thing to do, is for a smart company to say, “Let’s make today your last day.”
They weren’t smart. Day after day I came in and sat around as WordPerfect tried to figure out how to lay me off knowing I was going to their biggest competitor. As it turned out, they wrote some mean-spirited letter threatening to sue me and the Evil Empire in Redmond if I went to work for them in less than the mandatory six month non-compete. This is probably only one indication of the problems that ultimately forced WordPerfect out of business.
If you’re the company and an employee wants to leave but offers to stay for two weeks, show them the door. Makes it easier for everyone.
This week I had someone leave abruptly. It nearly resulted in me having to cancel, or at least postpone a huge piece of my project. Nice guy, but a little warning next time.
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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or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2017 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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It’s been a busy week for me. I have my team in Salt Lake from all around the country. the client has flown in. We all have a role to polar, but this is my project and I’m involved in a hundred different tasks and emails and even team dinner. Not that I had to plan it, but that I had to be involved. Yeah, it was busy.
So, why was I hanging off my roof last night at nearly midnight?
Because I have two jobs and the second one wouldn’t wait. Dinner wrapped up around 7:30 in Salt Lake City. Then, I gave a coworker a lift home. Then I had to do the brakes on the car my daughter drives. Then, I had to finish putting Christmas lights on my house. Then, I had to record a new intro for our Christmas light display. All of that needed to happen yesterday, after my normal job and then dinner.
Some readers have accused me of hyperbole at times; of making a mountain out of a proverbial mole hill. Did I really have to do all of that yesterday, or was I being overly dramatic?
The brakes had to e done because the car registration runs out at the end of November. I had to get the brakes done so my lovely wife could take the car today and get it inspected, so that my daughter wouldn’t be driving on expired tags.
(Pay someone to install them for me? Why would I pay someone? I swear sometimes it’s like I don’t even know you.)
Okay, so maybe the car was critical, but did I really have to put up the lights yesterday?
Yes. My neighbor and I have coordinated our Christmas lights and he set them to music. The show opens on December 1, tomorrow. But, he’s going to be busy Friday and Saturday. And I’m leaving on Sunday for a week. If I didn’t finish them know and give him a chance to test them, it would be an extra week.
The voice recording is a similar story. The light show starts off with me reading a short script. We have a version. . .it says, “2016 Light Show.”
I’m really not complaining. These are the very definition of 1st World problems. But, that doesn’t change the clock and squeeze more hours into the day.
Working two jobs is rough.
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.
Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
Facebook (www.facebook.com/rbliss)
LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2017 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
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It was not turning out to be a very productive day. We were in a week long implementation rollout for our big project. It was only the second day, but we were way ahead of schedule. In fact, we had finished the first two days worth of work by noon on Monday, the first day. Our support teams wouldn’t be ready for our Wednesday tasks until, well, Wednesday. So, Tuesday was a down day. We followed up on a few outstanding issues from Monday, but mostly it was a time to be productive on other things.
Except I wasn’t. I hadn’t planned anything for Tuesday because I was planning to be busy with our rollout. So, I kind of bounced from meeting to meeting that really didn’t need my presence.
Rodney, did you need something?
No, I just wanted to stop by and see how it’s going . . .with whatever you guys are working on.
Not my best day.
I have Adult ADHD. That’s like childhood ADHD except that people expect you to be able to work through it and be productive. I recently watched a Ted Talk where someone described ADHD as watching 30 different TV channels at the same time. . .and someone else is holding the remote. It’s not Attention deficit. It’s heightened attention. And if I don’t have something to focus on, I start watching those different stations all at once.
My role, both on this particular project, and in my day-to-day tasks is to communicate. In a meeting yesterday someone asked a question. The person answered it, but they answered the wrong question.
Yes, but once that is in place, who long before it appears in the database?
Oh, okay, yeah. I think it’s nearly instantaneous, but I’ll check.
I was not being obnoxious. Both people agreed that I’d made the communication work better. It happens multiple times per day. I’ve gotten to where I don’t even think about it. I simply translate what the person meant to say for the other project team member. I’ve learned to “stay in my lane.” In other words, I do that translation thing for my project, but I don’t presume to interject into other people’s conversations or projects.
My boss is in town. We were talking about my role in meetings and I was explaining about the 30 ADHD channels.
I have an entire separate meeting going on in my head.
‘I wonder why he said that? I’ll bet he forgot about that other point. The view out these windows is really gorgeous. I wonder when their plane leaves on Friday. I need to follow up on my travel request for next week. Why would the new headsets be randomly failing? Where did the name plantronics come from anyway? Who would play each of us in the movie? I need to buy ice cream for the team.’
And about a thousand more random thoughts.
And I realized that ADHD is probably the reason I can do that translation thing, and write this blog. Readers have told me that they enjoy my ability to pick two different topics and weave them together. Like earlier this week when I talked about Johnny Cash, junk cars, Billy Joel and fleas in a WWII concentration camp. I also tend to jump from topic to topic without transitions. That’s ADHD. It’s watching those 30 channels and seeing patterns between them.
When you put engineers and marketing people into the same meeting, they speak different languages. But, if you are watching the Big Band Theory and the Super Bowl commercial, you can pull examples from both sources. There’s a downside, of course. ADHD people get bored easily. The meeting is humming along at a speed of about 35 MPH, meanwhile the jet fighter in my head has already circled the building twice and has buzzed out to the mountains and back.
And that was my problem with down time. I was like a pinball bouncing back and forth. Occasionally someone would ask me a question, and it was like someone threw a ball. ZOOOOM off like a shot to grab some info and bring it back, before wandering to the next meeting I wasn’t invited to.
Oh wait, this post was supposed to be about how to focus in those situations. Oh look, daisies!
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.
Follow him on
Twitter (@rodneymbliss)
Facebook (www.facebook.com/rbliss)
LinkedIn (www.LinkedIn.com/in/rbliss)
or email him at rbliss at msn dot com(c) 2017 Rodney M Bliss, all rights reserved
