Think of the most important software in the world: Linux, Google, Facebook, JavaScript, PGP, even the World Wide Web itself. How many of these projects began in conference rooms, their success assured by the work of middle managers in business-casual attire obsessing over metrics, OKRs, and feature lists? Linux was a university project, but it now powers much of the world. Google began in a garage. Facebook was launched in a dorm room. JavaScript, PGP, and the Web were single-person experiments with no obvious economic value, yet it's now not an exaggeration to say the economy completely depends on them and the work they started. Sure, Google and Facebook are now steaming piles of shit, but who ruined them? Who made the decisions that destroyed these paragons of technological achievement? Was it the former chess team captains, crafting software they were proud of, drinking Mountain Dew and watching episodes of Cowboy Bebop between merges? I don't think so.

“But wait,” I hear you saying, “Alphabet and Meta make tons of money!” Sure, they do, but it won't last. Even with their monopolistic power, or perhaps because of it, Facebook and Google Search are worsening every day, and they are just begging to “disrupted” out of business. Besides, at what cost are they earning their money? Is the destruction of society not a sufficiently meaningful externality? Phillip Morris makes tons of money, too. They just have to kill millions of unwilling addicts in the process. As harmful as they are now, and as flawed as they were from the beginning, Facebook and Google were better off before “engagement” and “monetization” were ends unto themselves.

Building software is nothing like building furniture, building cars, or even building aircraft. To build those things it to repeat projects that have been completed thousands or even millions of times before. Software, on the other hand, is always bespoke. It's always unique. It's always being created for the first time. After all, if someone needed a software application that already existed, they would just obtain a copy. As someone once wrote, “Software development is one of the only professions where we are asked to accurately state how long it will take us to do something that has never been done before in the history of the universe.”

There is a profound difference between people who get this and people who don't. Spend enough time in a corporate feature factory, and you'll see it firsthand: your boss needs to know when the feature will be done, and they need to know now! Mountains of technical debt slow teams to a halt because management can just “hire someone to fix it later.” Moreover, good work doesn't matter; looking good (to management) is everything.

Working in the software industry for fifteen years has felt, at times, like watching outsiders and know-nothings slowly infect and destroy the craft I love, all so that they could ruin the software that gave them their jobs with poor decisions and short-sightedness. It's like watching a bully force a talented artist to set their painting aside so that they can instead sell Bored Ape stickers. No love. No care. No foresight. Just a quick buck.

Does all of this sound too harsh? Read Craig Cook's blog post on his decision to leave the software industry, where he bemoans “Silicon Valley MBA pricks” and says that “the whole tech industry is nothing but scumbag billionaires and smarmy marketing and unbridled enshittification and oppressive management and AI psychosis and alpha-bro startup-hustle grind-culture bullshit.” I worked with Craig at Mozilla, and I admire him, but even I didn't realize he could be so brutally honest! I mean, some of that might be going to far, but I agree with the general sentiment. I guess you can say what you really think when your paycheck isn't on the line.

Am I suggesting we let software developers run the show? No, not quite. If it were up to me, I'd probably still be refactoring some software I wrote ten years ago. Others would chase new, shiny objects—new JavaScript frameworks, to be sure—until their companies ran out of money. Software developers sometimes need their passion to be pointed in the right direction. That guidance, however, needs to come from respectable people with real wisdom and experience to draw from, not just professional fast-talkers who, as one colleague put it, “have 'KPI' tattooed inside their eyelids.”

I've worked with some incredible people who had degrees in business administration, but I'm sorry to say it's been the exception rather than the rule. Most management types don't get it, and when they don't get it, they really don't get it. For that reason, I've decided I'll never again work as a software developer for someone who has not been a software developer themselves—for more than five minutes—and a good one, at that! Does that limit my opportunities? It sure does. It excludes all the people who think intense pressure gets cognitive work done faster. It excludes all the people who ruined Google and Facebook and Amazon. It excludes all the people who are making money off of software they didn't create, that their entire approach to software would likely never create.

That's fine with me.

#Life #SocialMedia #SoftwareDevelopment #Tech

However, I don't use AI to write text on this blog. I've been using em dashes since noticing them in an author's writing and en dashes ever since being was introduced to them by Saga Söderback. The rest are just as useful; I even used some in this post!

I'm sure AI companies have indexed my blog, so in some very, very small way, I suppose the opposite is true: AI uses em dashes partly because I do.

#Life #Tech

A quick aside about Ocean City. My mother started taking me and my older sister years ago, when we were babies, and we still visit today. Over the years, we've become experts in mini golf and have come to love the beach, the food, the ice cream, the rides, and so much more. It's one of my favorite places.

The rules of the game are simple: switch to AM radio and tune to different stations one by one. For each station, try to be the first to guess whether the station is:

• Religion (including Christian rock)
• Republican (right-wing talk radio)
• Recreation (sports)
• Reporting (news)
• Ruh-roh (everything else, including things that are even stranger, like Coast to Coast AM, the conspiracy radio show that partially motivated the Heaven's Gate cult suicides)

The first person to guess correctly wins*!

#Life

* or loses, depending on how you look at it.

Patience is waiting. Not passively waiting. That is laziness. But to keep going when the going is hard and slow — that is patience. The two most powerful warriors are patience and time.

—Leo Tolstoy (claimed, unverified)

I could have sworn the quote was different, and I've been misquoting Tolstoy for weeks, not that I'm sure Tolstoy ever said this. Maybe it doesn't matter. I prefer my own version, anyway:

Waiting is productive. Not passive waiting—that's laziness—but active waiting.

#Life #Maxims #Quotes

I do my thing and you do your thing. I am not in this world to live up to your expectations, and you are not in this world to live up to mine. You are you, and I am I, and if by chance we find each other, it's beautiful. If not, it can't be helped.

—The Gestalt prayer by Fritz Perls

#Life #Quotes

He wears a mask, and his face grows to fit it.

—George Orwell in Shooting an Elephant

#Life #Quotes

Sadly, software cannot be estimated that way, and we need to stop pretending otherwise. It's a myth—a pervasive one—and perpetuating that myth only perpetuates its harm.

Sure, if a task is almost identical to some previous task, a precise and reliable estimate really can be communicated. Unfortunately, that almost never happens. If the work ahead were so similar, someone would have done it already using copy and paste. If it's similar and the engineering team wanted to set themselves up for success later, they'd refactor the system. That refactoring itself can be a hazy fog of unknowns. We've all been there many times.

In my fifteen years as a software engineer, I've worked in many different kinds of organizations, from a small non-profit research and development lab (the Open Publishing Lab at RIT), to a medium-sized, quasi-non-profit business with a deep and pervasive developer culture (the Mozilla Corporation), to a for-profit startup in the music industry (Inveniem), to a publicly-traded conglomerate with approximately 100,000 employees (Honeywell). Although I have fond memories with all of my former employers, in my experience, not one was even remotely better or worse than any other at software estimation. Clearly, something more fundamental is wrong.

I think the problem is obvious. They all wanted to know the unknowable.

The problem

I once worked with someone who liked to compare software development to parcel delivery: communicate a date when the package is expected to arrive. It's okay if there needs to be a delay, as long as that delay is communicated clearly. While the flexibility with delays was genuinely appreciated, the broader analogy soured on me over time. In truth, estimating software is nothing like estimating package delivery. The former involves doing something that has never been done before, while the latter is completed billions of times each year. Does Amazon have an advantage when forming estimates? You'd better believe it.

Software development is one of the only professions where we are asked to accurately state how long it will take us to do something that has never been done before in the history of the universe.

—Unknown, from a screenshot on X

How long will it take for Amazon to deliver a board game to Zara in Cincinnati? Well, probably about as long as it took last time. Yes, every delivery is different, but there must be millions of deliveries of similar items to nearby locations with similar weather forecasts and other pertinent factors being similar or identical. How long will it take? Probably that long.

By contrast, how much time will be required for me to change code I've never seen? I truly have no idea. How about adding, say, karaoke support to a streaming music app, one with millions of lines of code I've never read, where myriad caveats exist for different software clients, different spoken languages, and different copyright laws. How long will that take? Except in extremely broad terms, your guess is as good as mine. It will take more than one week, and it can probably be completed in less than one year. Beyond that, there's not much more that can be promised, at least in the beginning. More on that in the next section.

No, estimating software development is nothing like estimating like parcel delivery. It's more like estimating the pace of scientific progress. We simply don't know what we don't know. We can't know until we do it.

As much as possible, organizations should communicate that software will be ready when it’s ready. If some software must be released by a certain date, the feature list should not be guaranteed. I know this is easier said than done, believe me, but reality is what it is. Software simply cannot be estimated the way organizations imagine. Some higher-ups, especially those who have not been software engineers, may find this outrageous. They may demand exact estimates regardless. To them, I would say, “Fine, but let’s be honest, how’s that working for ya? How often are you given estimates that actually turn out to be correct?”

There's a reason you're reading this blog post. Something isn't working, and it's not about discipline. It's not about communication. It's not about skill. You're on the wrong path. Skeletons and vultures surround you. It's time to turn around.

Thankfully, there is a better way. Your manager may not like it at first, but over time, they may come to see that estimates of this type are actually useful, unlike the aspirational and unreliable estimates they're accustomed to.

The solution

To explain this kind of estimation, I need to define two terms. First, I'm using the term accurate to describe any estimate that is correct within a given range of dates. Defined this way, even a very broad estimate can be accurate. For example, an estimate that a feature will be completed some time between March 1^st and December 31^st would be accurate, as long as it turns out to be true. Precision is another matter. Precision refers to how narrow a range of dates is, with more narrow ranges being more precise. The previous feature estimate isn't very precise, but it would be more precise if it predicted a completion date between, say, April 1^st and July 1^st. This is how Rapid Development defines the terms, and I think it’s a good approach. In fact, most of this advice is lifted from Rapid Development. I recommend reading it. It's a tome, so focus on the sections that are most pertinent to your needs.

Crucially, estimates can and should become more precise as time goes on and details become more clear. If a team begins with an estimate of some time in Q1 or Q2, but the feature is more difficult than expected and they realize they need to revisit the database schema, perhaps the estimate could be narrowed to some time between May 1^st and June 15^th. If the team is nearing the end and the final code reviews go more smoothly than expected, maybe the estimate could narrow to some time between May 16^th and May 31^st. If a critical issue is found elsewhere in the codebase, taking the team off the feature for a while, maybe May 29^th becomes the most likely date of completion. The point is, there's practically no way to predict those circumstances in advance, but they can inform better estimates over time, as long as the estimation method supports that.

Did you instead randomly pick a date three months in advance? Too bad. You're screwed.

Reality-driven estimation

So how should we estimate? Strive for accuracy, start with low precision, and seek greater precision over time. As another example, you might consider communicating a project end date some time between Q2 and Q4, then later refine that to some time in the fall, then some time in October. Finally, at the very end of the project, you might be able to promise a specific week or even a specific day. That is an approach to estimation which acknowledges reality. That is an approach to estimation which acknowledges that surprises happen.

Do organizations want to hear this? Unfortunately, no, I don't think so. It's a tough sell. Organizations want certainty, and they want it now. Good luck telling your boss that you don’t know exactly how much time and money you're going to spend. Even the project management apps we use typically require that an estimate be recorded as a specific date. Talk about encouraging bad practices.

Pushing back is hard, and as someone who was raised to never question authority, even when that authority is obviously wrong, I happen to be particularly bad at it. That's too bad. Our bosses pay the bills, but we do the work. It's time we start saying, “The work can't be done that way, and if I were to tell you otherwise, I'd be lying to you.”

Reality is what it is, and the best we can do is provide estimates with gradually increasing precision. Organizations can pretend otherwise, and countless surely will, but again, I would ask, “how's that going?” Organizations ignore these facts to their own detriment, at the cost of time, money, and frustration. I wish them luck.

For everyone else, consider embracing reality. It's not perfect, but it's the best we can do.

#Life #Quotes #SoftwareDevelopment #Tech

Tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun

—Paul McCartney

#Life #Quotes

Death isn’t a failure of care.

On some level, it seems obvious enough. No one has ever beaten death. Your loved one was supposed to be the first? I don't think so.

On another level, I find the statement difficult to accept. There's always more that could have been done. I could have timed her medication better. I could have brushed her more to calm her and to express my love. I could have slept by her side those final days, on the floor of my office where she hid at night. I don't know why the idea only occurred to me later. Maybe she would have lived longer if I had. (To be fair to myself, I was pretty confused and exhausted in those final days. Perhaps I couldn't think clearly with her health declining.)

Kika's death

Kika ultimately died of gastrointestinal disease. She may have had lymphoma, but we will never know for sure. Her primary veterinarian felt that certainty was unnecessary, because the treatment for lymphoma was the same as the treatment for other kinds of gastrointestinal disease. We did follow that treatment plan, but it wasn't enough.

I brought Kika in for an appointment the day before she died, on my mother's urging. My mom knew I would never regret going, but I would regret not going. That turned out to be excellent advice. If it hadn't been for that, I would still be second-guessing myself, wondering if Kika had died of acute pancreatitis or something else that I failed to see. The vet took some fluids and sent them to Cornell, but when Kika passed the next day, the practice cancelled the tests. On the day Kika passed, the attending veterinarian did say something about how Kika's fluid looked cancerous under their microscope, but I was so flustered I could hardly understand what she was talking about.

The GI med may have worsened Kika's condition in the end, but I still think trying it was the right course of action. No one could have predicted how she would react to it, and if I hadn't tried it, I would be blaming my avoidance of the medication for her decline.

Even still, I should have been able to extend Kika's life somehow. Every choice matters. In that sense, wasn't her death a failure of care?

I don't know. There are many causes of death in humans and animals. Kika didn't die of the following things, to be clear, but mistakes happen, people die of medical malpractice, and accidents take lives too soon. Are those deaths predetermined? Are they unavoidable?

Maybe they are.

Kika died because she was a living thing, and living things die. Death is the price we pay for birth. Perhaps everything else is secondary—a few days here, a few days there, perhaps more. Immortality? No.

The Mortal Rule

I'm not a Buddhist, but I find Buddhism interesting and Buddhist and Buddhist-inspired meditation indescribably helpful. Buddhism can sometimes seem impenetrable, with myriad traditions, vast terminology, and scripture which is much more voluminous and much more sprawling than Westerners are accustomed to. I recently stumbled across the “Five Remembrances,” though, and they are not at all difficult to understand. They offer a meaningful response to my difficulties, or perhaps a preventative for the feelings I've been struggling with. Practitioners are encouraged to memorize and reflect upon these facts, as interpreted by Lion's Roar and author Koun Franz:

I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old.

I am of the nature to have ill health. There is no way to escape having ill health.

I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.

All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.

My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.

The names of others can be substituted in these reminders. Kika was of the nature to grow old. Kika was of the nature to have ill health. Kika was of the nature to die. There's nothing we could have done to change that. (The last remembrance seems like a non-sequitur, but I assume its inclusion partly serves as a reminder of the centrality of karma in Buddhist thought.)

Philosophical stoicism offers similar advice:

With regard to whatever objects either delight the mind, or contribute to use, or are tenderly beloved, remind yourself of what nature they are, beginning with the merest trifles: if you have a favorite cup, that it is but a cup of which you are fond, – for thus, if it is broken, you can bear it; if you embrace your child, or your wife, that you embrace a mortal, – and thus, if either of them dies, you can bear it.

—The Enchiridion of Epictetus, as translated by T.W. Higginson

Dialectical behavior therapy encourages the broader practice of “coping ahead.” Others take solace in remembering the phrase “memento mori.” It's not the Golden Rule, I suppose, but there's enough ancient and modern support for the idea: remember that you and others are destined to die. It has helped me, and it may help you, too.

Watching without failing

In the end, Rachel may be correct. Certainly, insisting that your loved ones overcome death is insisting that you be disappointed. You will not succeed. Even still, that won't make you a failure.

#Life #Quotes

There was an article where GPT-4 attempted to write three posts in my voice, but it was clearly explained as such. I also occasionally use AI to help with my grammar or other phrasing, but in those cases, I never lift more than a few words from the response. I consult with AI about wording like that about as often as I consult a thesaurus.

AI slop doesn't worry me as much as it worries some others. I expect AI-generated content will improve dramatically over time and will become indistinguishable from content produced by the human mind. We may already be there, for all intents and purposes. As far as I'm concerned, that's not the point. Again, the process of writing benefits me, and I'm not willing to forego that benefit.

There is an upcoming post which uses an image generated by ChatGPT. That post credits ChatGPT as the creator, and I plan to always credit AI for images it creates.

#Life #Tech