An Interlude Amidst the Interviews

Let's continue where we left off in the previous blog. The interviews could only go uphill and for that round they did. I don't recall any other disasters, and we hired a great employee. Over the next few years I was still in charge of everything except the actual hiring decisions, into which I had input. But there were still some interesting times.

(All the new hire names are made up.)

One recent grad was a decade older than the rest. Don had taught French at a high school but between not knowing how to help students who didn't care and the abysmal pay, he decided to return to school and try something else. He got a degree in computer science and we hired him.

At this point in our growth it wasn't unusual to hire several people at once; Don was one of four who started together. I was working 80 to 100 hour weeks; the later I worked the less likely I was to get in early. After Don's first day I decided to play a prank on him and the other newbies. When they would log in, they would get a random silly message and get logged out. There was even a point to it- getting them to work as a team to find the problem and fix it.

But I ended up working until 4AM so I wasn't there when they got in. I got in about 2. I logged in. A message displayed. "You're fired." It logged me out. I tried again. Same thing. I laughed- albeit with a wee bit of trepidation. Tom walked nonchalantly into my office and leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed. "So, how are you today?"

"I'm great. I can catch up on my sleep. I just got fired by a computer."

He grinned.

"You gave those guys a rough morning. Craig (the VP) was a bit upset. He calmed down, though."

"They couldn't figure out how to fix it?"

"Apparently none of them hung out with jokers at school. Frank got a message that the line printer was assigned to the overhead lights. He was really confused so he just started reading through the system manuals. Jane recognized what was happening but she hasn't used JCL before so she just came to me and I fixed her login. We came up with the idea for yours even before Craig knew what was going on."

"Well?"

"Here's where it got ugly. Craig went into the machine room for something and found Don and Dave with manuals and stacks of printouts, digging frantically through them and arguing. They didn't want to explain what was going on at first, but Craig raised his voice and that scared them more. Apparently Don's terminal said that someone's program had overwritten the OS and they needed to re-enter it in hex on the system console. So the two of them were desperately trying to find the operating system printout with hexadecimal codes."

I had to stifle a laugh. Craig stuck his head in. "It wasn't funny!"

Tom grinned even more. "Yes it was."

I couldn't help snickering.

Craig laughed. "OK, it was, but you really scared those boys. I think you owe them an apology."

I bought them lunch but they were so relieved they hadn't destroyed anything they weren't even upset.

After a year, Don quit and went back to teaching. He was doing a good job but he simply didn't care. "I'm going back for a masters in French and a masters in teaching. I'll find a way to help those kids." We missed him, but I've always encouraged people to pursue their passion. I was glad he found it anew.

Dave, on the other hand... That was an adventure.

Dave had excellent grades, did well on the test, and knew his stuff. Still, there were enough little red flags in our interactions that I had recommended against hiring him. The decision maker wouldn't listen. he thought I was being petty over something.

Being consultants and founders' backgrounds, we all had to wear coats and ties (or equivalent dress for the women). No jeans. Dave's first day he wore an immaculate three piece suit. He walked into the office of the executive VP (Tom S), introduced himself, and talked a bit. He noted that one of the reasons he had hoped to work at our company was that we looked professional. Tom told me about this later that day and asked, "You sure he's OK?" I related what had happened. He shrugged his shoulders; he didn't like to interfere in the systems group.

A week or two in, Dave showed up in blue jeans and a white button down. As I walked into my office he was brushing his teeth at his desk. An hour later he had his bare feet on his desk, trimming his toenails. When I asked what he was doing, he smiled innocently and said, "Foot hygiene!"

"Let's not do that in front of everyone, OK? What if a customer came in?"

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that."

Jane later thanked me. "Glad you thought of customers. He wasn't listening to us!"

No one would do anything about Dave. I was supposed to manage him but had no authority (this was an ongoing issue and one of the reasons I eventually left). A few months later he started drooling over the women from Shasta' regional office who walked by our windows a couple of times a day. He started watching for one in particular. When he would see her coming, he would hold up a sign. "How about lunch?" Or "Are you available?" I didn't find all this out until Nancy and Helene finally came to me after he went running down the hall when he saw her, opened the front door, leaned against the frame, and told the lady as she passed by, "I love you!"

I talked to him. He wouldn't listen. Craig wasn't in so I went to Tom S. He talked to Dave and made it clear the behavior would stop if Dave liked working for us. Dave grudgingly acceded. I found the lady later (I knew some of them a little bit just from being normal and friendly instead of psycho and friendly). I apologized, explained we had just found out, and told her that if it happened again, she should let us know and he'd be fired. Or if she preferred she could just call the police. She teared up and thanked me several times.

I'm sure the whole Shasta crew was happy when we moved to another location.

Things were weird in various ways for the next year or so with Dave. Eventually he was sent to a customer site on a project we were behind on. We were months late delivering the software but we kept a crew on site at our expense to get things working. After Dave had been on site a week, one of the customer's engineers told Fred (another of our engineers on site) that Dave had told them, "You realize that (our company) is screwing you over, right?" The customer knew we were losing money and working hard to resolve the problems. He figured we should know so he told Fred, who called me. I called Tom S and Craig (they were out of town). They flew Dave there, asked him about it, and he freely admitted it. He had no rational explanation. They fired him and sent him back to turn in his company items and get his stuff and go.

I met him at the front door with his personal possessions in a box. He wasn't allowed anywhere but my office. He was very, very hurt. "I thought you were my friend! Why are you taking their side?"

I gave him the brief version, told him to turn in his company credit cards at the front desk, and go. A moment later Helene came in. "Miles, did Dave give you his cards?"

I ran outside. Dave was pulling away in his car. I jumped on my Honda Interceptor (the only time since I was 16 I rode a motorcycle with no protective gear), and took off in pursuit. Dave had a turbocharger and decided to use it. I still caught him a mile away at a stop sign with enough lead time to park the bike in the middle of the road and get off it just in case.

He smiled his most charming smile. "That was fun. What's up?"

"The credit cards, Dave."

He looked forlorn. "Don't you trust me?"

"It doesn't matter. Those are the rules. You have to turn them in."

He just looked at me.

"Or I have to call the police."

Dave looked devastated. He pulled them out of his shirt pocket (he'd had them ready!) "Don't be a stranger."

"Sorry, Dave. I just might be."

He didn't run me over. He left. I went back to work. Half the office was standing out front, waiting to see if I came back, and whether I was intact. They cheered. I handed Helene the cards. She didn't want to take them. "Do I have to touch these?"

I told Craig if he ever overrode me on a personality rejection again I would quit. He promised not to. Thankfully it never became an issue.

I'm not dissing anyone in management. They were just as new at this as I was; we were all making it up as we went along. We all made mistakes and we all got things right. While it was frustrating at times, it could have been much, much worse.

These stories are 100% true. There may be a minor detail or two wrong, but there is no embellishment. If anything, it was even weirder than described.

The Interview Process From Heck

Not long after I got my first, full time software job at JHK & Associates I was given the task of^[1] finding new employees. I'd never done anything like this. My bosses hadn't done much and didn't care for it so it fell to me. Ex nihilo, I had a week to:

1. come up with a list of job requirements;
2. have one of the admins get them in the appropriate papers (there was no internet);
3. completely revamp the application form;
4. develop a test to screen out posers and help rank people with a clue;
5. get the first applicants screened;
6. make a recommendation to hire.

And by the way, the software delivery schedule can't slip.

Somehow I did it. I probably violated the letter of a couple of federal laws in terms of questions on the application, but we had no evil intentions. Nobody every complained, and we never discriminated on any basis other than technical, leadership, and whether they might be psycho. We learned the last one the hard way, but that story will have to wait.

The test was the hardest part for me. We didn't want to scare people off. We would want this to work for a wide array of positions from entry level to senior. I was quite proud of the result; it served us well for the several years I stayed and they used it long after I left. I wish I still had it.

Some people, of course, don't test well. We always used the test as a starting point for discussion. We hired people who didn't do well on the test. We passed on people who aced it. But that was all over time. The way my first two interviewees reacted to the test, coupled with my lack of experience, made for a hairy couple of days.

These both happened to be women; we'll get to some weird guy interview stories, too. Their names are (AFAIK) fictitious; I certainly don't remember names this many years later. Just their faces.

Interviewee number one was a recent grad from the University of Georgia. They had a good computer program, but it was aimed more at business, focusing on COBOL and maybe BASIC. We were an engineering shop focusing on FORTRAN and assemble languages. As Mary sat down and handed me the test she looked dejected. "I don't think I did very well."

She'd done well on the software engineering questions but got nothing at all on the FORTRAN questions (we had emphasized FORTRAN in the ads). "No, not really. Have you had any FORTRAN at all?"

"No." She looked at the desk. "They told me when I majored in CS that COBOL was all anyone wanted!"

"I'm sorry. I know there are plenty of COBOL jobs around, but this isn't one."

"This was the only programming job in the paper this week! I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm sorry. Thank you for your time and honesty."

I shook her hand and she left, a tear sliding down one cheek. I started to write things up. A moment later I noticed her run past my window. Seconds later one of the admins was in my doorway with her hands on her hips. "Miles! What did you do to her?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"She went past my desk sobbing like her heart was breaking, and ran out the door! I tried to talk to her but she wouldn't stop."

I explained what had happened. Nancy said, "I guess that's why most companies don't tell you anything on site; they call back."

Lesson #1: Never tell an interviewee they haven't got the job unless you are prepared to deal with the fallout!

The next evening we had a woman from another culture interviewing. The test was designed to take 10-15 minutes; she was in my office after five. "This is a stupid test." She flung it down.

Sara had answered less than half the questions. Even some of those were not complete answers.

"I have a masters in computer science. Do you have a masters in computer science?"

"No, but anyone with the knowledge we asked for in the ad should know this." Given that I had not finished my undergrad degree, and that I had friends who had not graduated who could do the test in their sleep, I knew this was true. Both my bosses had Masters degrees but they were quite happy with both my knowledge and the test.

Sara wasn't really interested in discussion; she wanted to browbeat me into giving her the job! After two or three minutes, Tom stepped in from next door. "Could you please hold it down? And, ma'am, if you don't like it, you don't have to stay."

She left in a huff, but first demanded we return every piece of paper to her. I finally gave her the resume back, but the application and test were ours, and she wasn't getting them. She left mumbling vague threats. Tom came back in my office. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah. I lost control of that one."

"You sure did."

"What would you have done?"

He laughed. "Probably been a lot ruder a lot faster if I'd been in your chair."

Lesson #2: Maintain control of the interview, and don't even bother with people with bad attitudes. For those, ignore lesson 1. Just send them on their way.

Helene, our other admin, came down after this one to make sure I was OK. She'd heard it forty feet down the hall, and apparently Sara glared daggers at everyone on her way out. She let them know she wasn't happy, she had her resume, and we should be sued because we were so stupid. I guess I still looked a bit stunned; Helene have me a hug.

To be continued...

 

NOTES
[1] I realize that modern business English would shorten "given the task of" to "tasked with". I still find this mildly annoying. Besides, my phrasing is historically accurate.

Emo vs Baseball

Growing up, I loved baseball. And I loved four teams in particular:

• The Saint Louis Cardinals
• The Detroit Tigers
• The Boston Red Sox
• The San Francisco Giants

Why these teams? I don't really remember. They simply were my favorites to watch, some combination of personalities, performance, shenanigans, and teamwork, I suspect.

Three of them were involved in the 1967 & 1968 world series. During the former, the boys in my small 7th grade class would retreat to our usual part of the playground during afternoon recess where someone would furtively pull out a transistor radio and we would all pretend to play pine cone mumbletypeg or some other game while we desperately listened and watched out for adults. While the radio was on best friends might be enemies as one's team triumphed over the other's, play by play. But then the radio was off as we headed back in, giddy, nervous, crazy to know what was happening, friends again against the cruel world valuing biology over baseball. And my favorite team of all won.

The next year everyone knew the Cards would win. Everyone except die hard Tigers fans, of course. And those Tigers fans turned out to be right. Had anyone else beat them I'd have been devastated. But at least it was the Red Sox, so all was well enough, if not well. This was my first year of junior high. We did not get recess or any form of break in junior high other than five minutes to get to the next class. I think they made sure the classes were as far from each other as possible to give us exercise in lieu of recess. one day I had a radio in my pocket with an earpiece in the ear farthest from the teacher, trying to pretend to concentrate on the lecture. But when another kid got caught and his radio confiscated til after the series, I put mine away at school and tune in on my bike heading home, half the game irretrievably gone. It was a cruel life.

1966 had been huge, too. I don't know that I ever loved the Dodgers as a team, but they had some great players in the 60s-- Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale, for instance. I recall games with these guys playing Roger Maris's team, the Yankees. Those were some cool games. Maris ended his career playing for my beloved Cards; I totally forgave him the years with the Damn Yankees for that. But I watched and listened to Dodgers games rooting for my heroes... even when rooting for the other team to win.

In the 60s, "damn" was not something decent people could say in public unless quoting Scriptures or as part of the proper name, "Damn Yankees". In the South, once could also say, "damn yankees" to refer to anyone from "up yonder" but my family didn't allow that. "Damn Yankees", however, was allowed almost anywhere. I don't recall ever hearing a pastor say it from a pulpit, but as a kid I was usually busy getting in trouble for drawing (holy) ghosts in my Bible or something.

The last game I remember really watching and caring about was September 29, 1973. I had met Lisa Pazol right after starting Georgia Tech; her family invited me to an Atlanta Braves game with them. I was probably the only person in our entire section rooting for the Houston Astros. I'd never really cared that much about them before, but I was desperately homesick for Texas. When Perez scored in the bottom of the fifth I knew it was over. Depressed, I said I needed to use the bathroom, but I really just wanted to go walk. And thus I missed the only hit I cared about the entire game- Hank Aaron's 713th home run, bringing him one short of tying the Babe. As soon as I hear the crowd go nuts, drowning out the PA speakers ten feet from my head, I knew. I nearly cried, I made it up the stairs into the stands just in time to see Baker's follow-up homer. It was years before I would forgive the Braves. Or the Astros, who had far more reason to be distraught that day than I.

Yeah, I was emo before it was a thing.

Global Confusion (with apologies to The Temptations)

Some wonderful friends recently moved to southern Alaska (hint: still farther north than almost anywhere). This week the weather there has been warmer than in much of the continental US. They also had no snow, whereas something like 50% of the continental US did. A Facebook discussion combined with the sorry state of research management, political finagling, and poor and confusing reporting, inspired this. If you haven't heard the Temptations song "Ball of Confusion", go youtube it now. I'll wait.

Back? OK, read on with my version for today.

 

People running out, people running in
Why? Because of the clothes on their skin
Sweat, freeze, fry but you can't decide
Don't know who's lyin or tellin me the truth
Vote for me and I'll set you free
Babble on, brother, babble on

Well, the only people talking real solutions ain't in power
And it seems nobody's interested in the truth but the flowers
Natural causes, carbon footprints, solar flares, automation
Correlation, determination, demonstration, disintegration
Aggravation, humiliation, obligation to my nation

Global confusion
Oh yeah, that's what the weather is today
Woo, hey, hey

The sale of votes is at an all time high
Leaders walking round with their heads in the sky
The cities blacked out in the summer time
And oh, the beat goes on

Evolution, revolution, price control, sell your soul
Shooting rockets to the moon, World economies grow too soon
Politicians say carbon taxes will solve everything
And the band played on

So, round and around and around we go
Where the world's headed, said nobody knows
Oh, great Googamooga
Can't you hear me talking to you?

Just a global confusion
Oh yeah, that's what the weather is today
Woo, hey, hey

Fear in the air, tension everywhere
Ocean level rising fast, racing to consume the gas
And it's not even safe to live on an Indian reservation
And the band played on

Eve of destruction, fracking deduction, pollution inspectors, solar collectors
Wind turbines in demand, population out of hand, Maldives, tornadoes
Hippies moving to the hills, people all over the world are shouting
'Climate change!?' and the band played on

Great Googamooga
Can't you hear me talking to you?

It's a global confusion
That's what the weather is today, hey, hey
Let me hear ya, let me hear ya, let me hear ya

Sayin' global confusion
That's what the weather is today, hey, hey
Let me hear ya, let me hear ya
Let me hear ya, let me hear ya, let me hear ya
Sayin' global confusion

Christmas Gifts for the Insanely Rich Guy Who Has Everything

Once upon a time I worked for one of the absolute top tier retail chains, the sort of chain that wouldn't let a sitting president or their spouse shop because they might actually have worked for a living at some point. I'm not going to name it, but in 1975 I believe the only place fancier was one known for having something in its Christmas Catalog for the Man Who Has Everything. Let's call that one Notoriously Monied.

So what might they sell for the Man Who Has Everything? All manner of things, as it turns out. Here are a few samples.

1. a seriously exclusive, custom car (1979);
2. a solid gold lighter (1985);
3. a rare pet (2001).

"Big deal," you say, and roll your eyes. Not so fast, dudo or duda. Read on before you step in it any deeper. FAQ

1. A car? Really?
   A car. Really. The car Enzo Ferrari always wanted to build but his accountants and lawyers screamed, "NO!" along with his wife, Laura. But after her 1978 death he decided to build something special for the NM Christmas Catalog and to heck with the lawyers and bean counters. The result was a car sporting a Merlin jet engine from a front line British fighter. The seat, like a Soviet space capsule crash couch, was molded to the owner's body before being hand covered in extra virgin unicorn hide. This wasn't just a fancy car; this was a fancy car that would leave the Batmobile a smoldering pile of slag at the starting line. Every driver in America wanted one, but a 1957 Ferrari Testa Rosa (the basis for the NM car's body style) was cheaper and easier to find. Ferrari made one per store. The Ferrari Ego sold out five minutes before it officially announced.
2. A solid gold lighter? Big deal.
   Big deal, indeed! Ten kilograms of 24 carat gold. Shaped like a sphinx, it could be used as a lighter, a welding or cutting torch (not that its owners cared), a flamethrower, or a hot air balloon engine. But wait! There's more! Hidden on the base was a button with a number (13) covered in a diamond crystal and set in a titanium bezel. It contained a (rare) 13th floor elevator button. Depressing it opened a portal and the owner (it was keyed to their soul) was whisked away to a dead man's party with Oingo Boingo. Most made it back. Few cared to repeat the experience. But it was theirs. This was possibly their most popular Everything item.
3. A pet? What kind of pet?
   Good, I see you have learned caution. Obviously not just any pet, but a rare pet of unknown origin. As in not of this planet and time. Seriously unknown as far as we are concerned. The instructions highly recommended not disabling the force field as violent death and further chaos and destruction might occur. While the cute 8" to 12" glowing lizard things looked harmless, it was alien enough no one disabled the force field. Sadly, this meant the creatures all died within a week but then the owners still had something rare; until then only federal governments had possessed dead space aliens. I just hope these were truly wild predators and not ambassadors from a technologically superior culture who would have helped us feed the planet, find peace, and cure the flu. Because who knows what they'd do now?

That took more time and words than expected, so you'll just have to wait to hear the tales of a hippie in a store too expensive to care about hip.

Ebola, My Love

As I look around at the current Ebola Hysteria, the media-whipped frenzy, the sheer volume of newsless news stories, the hordes of disinformation disseminators, I am confounded. By all that is modern American, why is no one cashing in on this?

Since nobody else has stepped up, I am. You should get in on the ground floor of this venture. No investment is too large, none too small. A dollar a share. Read on, and let your retirement fund drool!

First off, we need to rope in the kids. One of the first attractors is always a high sugar breakfast cereal. Introducing... Ebola[tm] breakfast cereal! The camera zooms in on a couple of terminally cute kids scarfing down their breakfast cereal, along with milk or a bright red energy drink. It zooms in further to a spoon coming out of a nearly emptied bowl. The spoon is full of milk, and three pieces of cereal- each in a (simplified) classic ebola virus shape.

The girl finishes just ahead of the boy as the camera pulls back.

In unison, they chant, "Mom! I want a bowl o' Ebola!"

Their Dad lowers his paper and looks at them.

"Please!" They call. Dad smiles, the paper goes back up, and Mom tells them to get it themselves; she's late for work.

As soon as the profits start rolling in, we hit the market with the dolls and action figures, just in time for the Holiday shopping insanity. Dolls? Dolls! Cute kids, bats, doctors and nurses, people in hazmat suits, angry American voters with pitchforks and torches, the works.

Ebola brand clothes for everyone from newborns to old folks; I predict the Ebola[tm] polo shirts will outsell Izod[tm] for at least a few months. Calvin Klein and Polo will be playing catch up.

We'll hold a contest; the winner gets a tour of the Presbyterian Dallas hospital's ebola ward,. complete with a custom biohazard suit in the colors of their choice, which they get to keep-- assuming their hometown lets them come back at all.

Last but not least, console and phone games. The flagship will be Ebola Wars, where everyone races to weaponize and deliver ebola to wipe out their enemies. Hydra would be proud.

This is American profiteering at its best. Don't get left behind!

The Great Presidential Campaign Massacree of 88

Composed in the Afternoon of Destruct... er, Election (1988-11-01)

Nowhere near my best, but I think it conveys the mood I was in facing such a nasty decision that day...

We wanted a tree so straight and strong
 To hold the sky up all day long
  Protect us from the heat of the day
   And keep the storms' destruction at bay
    But all we got was a scrawny bush.

We wanted a king to lead our land
 To hold at bay with outstretched hand
  The enemies coming to destroy
   Our world so fragile that we enjoy
    But all we got was a second-hand duke.

We wanted an eagle to fly so high
 We'd barely see him with our eye
  Our daily lives to so inspire
   That to these same heights we'd aspire
    But all we got was an unknown quail.

I wanted a metaphor as absurd
 As a tree, a duke, or a national bird
  But Bentsen to few things could compare
   Til one thing gave me quite a scare
    The last time we elected a hot dog Texan into the white
     house as VP to a Massachussets Miracle, we ended up deep
      sneakers in Vietnam!

And me a Texan-
 It is so vexin'...

Reproduced here exactly 26 years (OK, and a few hours) later than originally written. It would have been far more perfect in a presidential election year, but resurfaced as mid-terms are this Tuesday, the 4th.