Management Fail!

A developer in my org came to me with a technical question she was working on puzzling out around something we call "Decision Units" in portfolio.  Decision units itself is a topic worth its own post, and not really important here, but the gist of it boiled down to this:

Her: "We have a problem handling decision units that exist in multiple business units, where analysts in different groups aren't aware of all of the logic relationships that might exist for that project."

Me: "What's the problem?"

Her: "Well, the way we're handling things right now, if anybody makes a change to the logical relationships for a given project --if they add a dependency or some sort of optional relationship or anything-- it will wipe out all the stored values for that project.  Worse yet, the analyst who loaded them before won't know they were wiped out, and when they go back to load them again, there will be a bunch of new alternatives there that they never heard of!"

Me: "That is a problem!  What do you think we can do about it?"

She gave me a good explanation of the issue that indicated she understood both the technical character of the problem and the business character of the problem. 

She really had her head around the thing.  She then delivered a very technical, possible solution that involved setting some flags and having users determine several things in advance and some other business rules around the process flow.

Me: "I think we can do something simpler.  Here's what I think..."

And then I went on to sort of brainstorm out a couple of default states and business rules that eliminated most of the possible sources of trouble.  Lastly, I sketched out an approach that would handle the last situations elegantly and simply and without requiring the users to do anything they weren't already doing.

Her: "Wow! That was really great!  I'm glad I came to you.  Here I was, thinking of something super-complicated and all I needed was to talk to you and you had a simple answer right away!  Thanks!"

I felt pretty good about myself for a few minutes and then realized I had totally failed her as a manager.

With a little coaching I'm pretty sure that she could have come with the answer on her own.  Maybe a few questions, or at the very least I could have structured the conversation more collaboratively.  I sort of pontificated how I think it should work and we were done.  My developer was left maybe feeling good about my skills, but probably a little less confident in her own.  That's a big fail as a manager.

this is a clever metaphor!

I think this sort of thing is why it's very hard for managers to make those "Career Pipeline" transitions from independent contributor (IC) to manager.  We build up these technical skills and are rewarded for them, and often they become a source of pride and self-worth.  When problems come along that are in the sweet spot, we think immediately of a fix.  We miss the chance to do our new job, which is coach the person bringing the problem as they figure out a fix.

software development II

You will always regret the hack

Every project gets hairy at some point.  Deadlines start to loom, customer requirements start to tighten, subcontractors and ingredient suppliers are late or flake out entirely.  The team gets stressed and the iron triangle reminds you of its immutable force:

the ol' iron triangle

Adding resources at this point never works.  Even if you have some ninja team of superhuman developers in your back pocket, they won't be able to parachute in at the last minute and do anything right away other than churn the project and introduce more problems.

Slipping the schedule is always tempting.  Reducing features is often what happens.  Sometimes we're smart about it and try to stage them together; reduce the features in the first release, with a schedule for releasing the remainder of the features in the future.

The worst thing that happens is when the decision is made to fight the triangle and keep the same schedule with the same features.  When that happens something else gives--Quality.

In software, when quality slips this usually means that the developers start to introduce hacks.

Magic numbers start to appear instead of declared variables.  Convoluted blocks of nested code get tucked into other functions instead of broken out into separate functions.  Blocks of code get commented out.  Blocks of code go undocumented.  Temporary variable names that make no sense get introduced.  Single purpose design takes over and expandable, scalable features fall by the way-side.  Unit tests and BAT tests go unwritten.

Your software product effectively gets downgraded to proof-of-concept.  When you need to build more later, you're instead spending time refactoring the junk you slapped together.  When users find errors it takes 5x as long to troubleshoot.  At the end of the day, you give up a lot more than you gained and always, always regret it.

Software Development

I've been doing professional software development of some kind or another since the mid-90's.  I wrote my first program on a Timex Sinclair when I was 10 years old, and taught myself Assembly to try to squeeze more into the 2K of RAM it came with.

pictured here with the 16K RAM upgrade!!  That changed everything!!

A lot has changed since then (thankfully).  Along the way I learned a lot of lessons--all of them the hard way.  Looking back at my first attempts at building a company, developing a brand, organizing a development methodology and cultivating people I realize I did things about as wrong as I could.

Here are some of those lessons.  Maybe you won't have to learn them the hard way, too...

Produce excellence, especially when you're not asked for it

My first commercial products were euphemistically called "Casual Games" or "Budget Extreme Sports Games" or more correctly "Shovelware".  Google "Extreme Paintbrawl" and read some of the reviews.  Enjoy the laughs and then come on back.

Extreme Paintbrawl and the games like it were precisely what our publisher hired us to do.  One important guy at a publisher told us "You could literally take a shit on the CD and I could sell it with the right licensing, just get them done as fast as possible."  So that's what we did.  We banged out junky games as fast as we could, because that's what we were hired to do.

This kept the lights on, and kept our customer satisfied, but it didn't lead anywhere.  Later on, when we tried to land bigger, higher-quality projects, nobody was interested.  We had a reputation for producing junk games at light speed.  Literally nobody would give us a shot at producing a quality game with more time and more budget.  In retrospect, they were probably right.  We had a shovelware culture and I'm not certain we could have turned the corner.

At the same time, a friend of mine with a very similar company and very similar starting point aligned his people around producing beautiful, compelling games.  He had the same customers, the same deadlines and the same budgets.  They were late all the time, the games were completely over-engineered relative to the spec, and they didn't make any money on those games, but they proved that his group could do really nice work.  They successfully segued into AAA games while I wound up throwing in the towel and leaving the industry.

Get a monkey on a football

On one of my early projects we had to develop a considerable amount of development infrastructure from scratch.  We were building a new rendering engine, new level design tools, new asset management tools and were working out of a basement.  Weeks went by with no visible progress to show the customer.  They started freaking out and threatened to cancel the contract.

I came up with a schedule of visible milestones to deliver to the customer.  For the first one I said "Look, I don't care if we render a monkey riding a flying football around the course, we have to show these guys something!!"  "A Monkey on a Football" became our catch-phrase for tangible customer deliverables that may not be completely required for the technical aspects of the development, but are completely required to make sure that your customers know you're moving forward.

It is a lesson I should have internalized from an earlier interaction with a guy named "Joris" in the Netherlands.  Joris had worked for us before and we hired him to write the AI for Santa in one of our early projects called "Nuclear Winter".  Joris kept telling us he was making progress and we kept believing him without demaning tangible proof.  When the time came for Joris to turn in his code, Joris disappeared.  Then he turned in corrupt zips, then disappeared again.  Eventually, Joris admitted that he hadn't done any work at all.  He had spent his entire advance on phonesex with some woman in Kansas that he was in love with and he needed more money from us and then he promised he would get right to work.  

So now, I always demand a monkey on a football from the folks who are working on my team, and I always give a monkey on a football to my stakeholders.

I have a few more, but my blogging time is up for this week... I'll post them another time.