Tag: tech industry

  • Learning What Not To Do Doesn’t Teach You All That Much

    Learning What Not To Do Doesn’t Teach You All That Much

    quiet empty space
    Credit: Wikimedia

    Early on in my career, I worked on something that shipped without tests. And I learned something important:

    That’s a bad idea.

    To frame it positively, I learned that any tests were better than no tests. And so I went away and read things, talked to people, and experimented. And over time I’ve learned a lot and mastered a certain level of competence. I’ve also become the kind of person who writes extensive unit tests on my experimental side projects.

    But it’s not uncommon for people in tech to claim they learned their leadership skills, or management skills, from learning what not to do from some terrible leaders and – especially – managers.

    There are a number of things wrong with this. Firstly, these create self-perpetuating cycles. We’ve all heard (and often told!) stories of terrible micro-managers, I heard about one who had his team track their time in 30 minute increments (just the thought of this makes me stressed). The result is that many of us fear being the micro-manager, and so we tend to be too hands-off.

    The thing is, if you could get past your loathing of the micro-manager and actually listen to what they think they are doing, you might hear a story about how they had a hands-off manager, and didn’t get the support they wanted, so now they are trying… not to be that guy.

    So we’re all trying to… not be that guy (I use “guy” deliberately, because the vast majority of the time it is a guy). Cool. I totally believe that guy was a terrible manager, or terrible lead. But that doesn’t mean that we know what the hell we are doing.

    So we read things (but mostly ignore all the wider research outside the tech industry), we talk to people (do we know that they know what they are doing? Did they make it up from some other place of things not to do?) and experiment.

    Only now our experiments are not with source code. But with people’s careers. In an industry where people’s careers make up an unhealthy level of defining who they are.

    I’ve learned a lot of what not to do. But recently I learned something about what to do. Specifically, if you lead through a hard thing, especially something that fails, the best measure of success you have is the relationship you have with the people you led. If you get through it and they still respect and like you, you’ve done something right.

    And it made me realise how little we learn when we learn what not to do. And how many unknown unknowns it leaves us with, that will one day come back to bite us.

    The other thing I’ve observed recently, is that the way someone treats a new grad, or an intern, says a lot about them. It’s like that tip of seeing how your date treats the waiter.

    Yes, some interns and new grads are arrogant and obnoxious. But in general these are the most enthusiastic and positive people you meet. You are amongst their first experience of what people are like in the working world. They are so keen to like the people they work with, and they are the people who we conduct the most brutal experiments of poor management and poor leadership on.

    And so, they learn what not to do. They learn not to be that guy, only now that guy is you. And the cycle continues.

  • The Aristechracy

    The Aristechracy

    French aristocrats, c. 1774
    Credit: Wikipedia

    In the 1980s “a computer in every home” was a crazy dream. But the rapid rise of technology until that (in the West at least) became normal has created a lot of opportunity. And, a new aristocracy. The Aristechcracy.

    Many Aristotechs think the Aritechracy is a meritocracy, This is because they are a) delusional and b) not aware what meritocracy means (it’s satire).

    Three ways it’s like the Old World Order:

    1. It’s undeserved. While there are some genuinely impressive people in tech, most of us got lucky. At least by being middle class enough to afford a computer growing up.
    2. It relies on economic disparity and gatekeepers. This article about disrupting laundry really irritated me. The laundromats are the same. The customers are the same. Now there is a layer of tech between them that makes for a little more convenience – for the consumers. The laundromats are now in the same, or worse position because all business comes through an app… that they have no influence over. That app is somehow worth more than the laundromat.
    3. It’s self-perpetuating. Aristocrats used to marry each other. Aristotechs hire and invest in each other.

    The thins is, for all Aristotechs talk about “disruption”, they don’t actually want to be disrupted.

    They talk about the education of 5-15 year olds, but not the empowerment of people. They’d sooner profit off them instead.

    The status quo isn’t supposed to change. It’s supposed to be perpetuated. The system is working as intended. Or at least until the Aristotechs leave the mortals for the purely Technocratic Island instead. Regrettably that isn’t satire.

    First, Do No Harm

    This is harmful in the same way that any elite class lacking empathy, high on the delusion of the godtalent-given right is.

    If you despise humans, how do you create things for them?

    If you don’t empathise with them, how do you begin to understand what they need?

    Just because you are winning the “meritocracy” doesn’t make it real.

    Profiting off a class system isn’t “disruption”, it’s the same old story with a new name. And yet somehow, it just so happened that the white dudes are still the ones in charge.

  • On Leaving (again), Compound Effects and Falling Out Of Love

    On Leaving (again), Compound Effects and Falling Out Of Love

    Empty room
    Credit: DeviantArt / MadameM-stock

    Someone tweeted that this post reminded them of my post about leaving. And I read it, finding it oddly compelling (even though I’m not excited by comics, or superheros), and then I found this quote.

    it seems to me to be the worst thing in the world to want to do something that badly and then to have your love for it slowly leeched out of you to the point where you don’t want to do it at all anymore

    And then I felt like I understood, because yes, this is often how I feel.

    Maybe I’m actually doing better than that, because whilst I might have come to hate the tech industry I still love making things.

    Two things. One bad, one good.

    First thing. I remembered a comment a guy must have made… oh, 6 months ago. I remember my reaction, the double take “oh, did you really?” I think he thought it was a joke. I think jokes should be funny. And I realised, I put this in a box for the last 6 months. I didn’t run into him again, I didn’t think of it again, until I was meditating on the words that get used about women, and only about women, and I remembered this.

    Does it really matter? If one guy says something stupid? If he thinks he’s funny when he’s not? I have a relatively dark sense of humour so I probably do that too. One guy, doesn’t matter. One guy each [day|week|month|quarter|year] starts to matter as the [days|weeks|months|quarters|years] go by. They start to add up. And on dark day it’s not one guy making that comment, it’s one guy articulating what they all must think. And eventually the dark days become everyday. The fear of “what next?” becomes crippling and constant. Eventually, it’s time to leave. Maybe that mental departure took place a while ago, a disconnection as a way to cope, but now is finally official, and real.

    My coping strategy has just been to push harder, move faster, accelerate. To say, OK, 10 years, tops, make the most of it. Want to push me down? I’ll run faster, diversify, find a way to bounce back up.

    Frantic. Frantic. Frantic.

    Second thing. Take a deep breath. I am 29 years old. That is not actually that old, really. This reaction, feeling like I am running out of time, is actually just… madness. I have time. It’s not actually an emergency. I don’t need to have all the answers today.

    Or even when I do leave. I don’t need to know exactly what is next, or if my departure is real, or permanent. I just need a starting point.

  • Sydney, One Year On

    Sydney, One Year On

    IMG_3573

    I’ve been thinking a lot lately about when I decided to move to Sydney. The two week period in which I changed my mind every day – multiple times a day, even. I cried every day. It was a difficult decision, where to go, and it was hard to live a place that I loved, even whilst I knew it was not a forever-place.

    It was, in a number of ways, a short-term decision. I thought the other option might be a better career move for me, long term, but didn’t address an immediate and pressing thing that I just knew was too important to me not to resolve soon.

    And so I figured, come for a year, and see.

    And as the end of that year approached… I kept thinking about why I decided to come here, what would make me stay.

    I wanted the city-girl life, which I have had and is everything I hoped it would be. The apartment where from the roof of the building I can see the Opera House, and the Harbour bridge. Lots of (girl)friends, evenings out and about. Something cultural pretty much every week – either an art gallery, or the theatre.

    Sydney, from when I first saw it, and still, has seemed to me the most beautiful city in the world. But, it is expensive – rent is astronomical, and being so remote so are flights. It’s far from my family. It’s far from anywhere, really, even other parts of Australia.

    I’m still single, and I’ve found dating as an expat is hard, especially in the second country. The option of leaving is clearly there, and whether or not I allow myself to consider them, the questions “could this tip the balance that I would stay?” “would you come with me?” come to mind.

    The biggest thing that has made me think about leaving, though, is feeling burnt out on this industry. On occasion, I walk home in tears thinking about quitting my job, running away to live up a mountain, I also find myself considering the fact that I am on a visa. If I took that off the table, would it be easier to cope with those moments? My friend was talking to me about startups, and I explain, my job is the only stable thing in my life. But, what if it wasn’t? What would that change?

    There are a lot of things necessary for expat-life that I am good at – making myself feel at home somewhere new. Accepting things as they are, and not how they are in other places. And others I am terrible at – like forms and bureaucracy – this is why I don’t have a driving license right now.

    I’m so glad I came here, though. I’m so glad I had this experience, saw these places, met the many amazing people who have come to be my friends. I always want to choose the bigger, more interesting life, even though that is not the easier one.