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The Internet is in crisis. Famously called “The Four” by marketing author and professor Scott Galloway, the companies that have become the pillars of our world wide web are all showing signs of cracking around the edges:
- Google‘s failed attempt to unseat Facebook led to a zombie social network that eventually leaked all its users information.
- Facebook‘s repeated attempts to stem the tide of manipulation and assault of their user data has only led to increased bad press for the social network of questionable origins.
- Amazon‘s Everything Store continues to gobble up commerce, making markets tremble if there’s even a rumor that it will swing its clout in a new direction, all while pretending to care about the little guy.
- Apple has given up being a technology company entirely, and just makes jewelry for wanna-be technoratti.
The cyberpunk utopia that the tech-literate hippies of yesterday dreamt up is gone: with the surfaces most people see commercialized to sell crap to the lowest common denominator Internet-using persona, while the rest of the web becomes the seedy under-belly of a filthy red-light district where criminals and sex-traffickers lurk.
Much of the blame lies with the users, of course.
The first at fault were those who flocked to the web with the intent only to consume. Entrepreneurial start-ups looking to leverage the next technology wave found a vote-with-their-wallet force that practically demanded to be exploited. The people who chose to use the Internet, without understanding it, were doomed to be used by it. Clicking blindly on every link, without understanding how that link was formed or how the content it retrieved was served up, made it only too easy for predators to trap their first prey. It may be victim-blaming, but let’s face it, there were a lot of willing victims eager to trade their banking information for gold from a Nigerian prince.
This group spawned the next generation of sheep, those who viewed their computer, and later their smart phone, as an appliance. These assumed its accessibility meant it was safe to use, like a microwave, not a potentially dangerous tool like a gun. So they loaded it up, pointed it at their face, and then acted surprised when it went off, filling their homes with garbage, and spilling their personal information on the ground for others to grind into by-product meal for trade and barter. Assuming a level of literacy-through-familiarity, this generation actually understands even less than the AOL users of yesterday. Back when you couldn’t get online without knowing at least the basic modem init commands, the competence bar was set to a level that insured at least a little comprehension. Now you can send nudes to your boyfriend in seconds without any awareness of the potential consequences.
The next wave of online stupidity is coming soon, and who is going to protect us? The ones that made us victims in the first place.
Google — the same company that leaked the (sometimes coerced) personal information of half a million users of their dormant social network, then hid it from us all — has declared war on Internet standards. In the past months, they have:
- Determined users shouldn’t be allowed to read a full URL
- Determined content published by an individual (non-commercial) source is unsafe
- Unilaterally eliminated a certificate provider
- Made a play to pass all web traffic through their servers
And the increasingly incompetent population of the Internet accepts these things, because like sheep, we’re frightened, and desperately want someone to save us from ourselves. We see no choice but to be fenced into a smaller and smaller enclosure, without realizing that not only are we not producers, we aren’t even customers any more. We have become the product.
If the Internet is a loaded gun, and its pointed in all of our faces, and we gave it to someone else and assumed they wouldn’t use it to mug us, then its sort of our own fault. We should have realized the power of the tool we had, we should have learned to use it properly, we should have put it safely away when it wasn’t appropriate to wave it around, and if we needed it to hunt for a meal, we should have had respect for that hunt, and the product it produced.
If a web browser is a speeding car on an information highway, and we set the cruise to 100, climbed in the backseat, and started Instagramming pictures of the scenery, while we let a criminal drive and gave him our wallet, then are they really to blame when we end up in a car wreck after our identity has been stolen? Or do we have some culpability for not paying attention in Driver’s Ed, learning the rules of the road, and being careful about who we invite on a roadtrip?
Once, if you wanted to have a popular service online, you had to provide an open programming interface (an API), that allowed technical users to connect to, interact with, and observe what your service was doing. One-by-one these APIs are being closed off, making services a black-box. The thing is, you’d have to be technically savvy to understand the implications of cutting off the openness of the web — the dishonesty of hiding your intent behind a closed-API.
There’s pieces of this Internet left that still look like it was meant to be. There are still some sites where you can “view:source” and learn what’s really going on in the page. Most sites still have a (usually hidden) RSS link where you can get the content without being assaulted by the ads. Take advantage of what remains of our freedom: use a search engine other than Google, rotate your browsers so one vendor doesn’t get all your history, and beware of articles that you agree (or disagree!) with too much — you’ve probably already been targeted. While Instagram and Facebook make it easy to share with your friends, email still works, and WordPress is still free — don’t put all your eggs in one basket, then let someone else sell the basket. Services you build yourself, or pay for, are less likely to exploit you.
Here’s something I never thought I’d say: don’t buy an Apple product any more. Or if you do, don’t buy one made after Steve Jobs died — they’re cheaper anyway. Maybe he wasn’t the nicest guy in the world, but he had the right influences, and figured out how to find a balance. If you want a nice piece of kit, turns out Microsoft, the big baddy of the 90s, had a change of heart (or at least, leadership) a couple years ago, and have put their culture back the way it should have always been – then started making some really nice hardware.
And for sense of community, pick a topic that interests you and find a non-Facebook (and non-Twitter) forum for it. There’s lots of kinds of geeks on the Internet, and while the UI on most forum sites may not be as polished, the conversation, depth and comradery is much better in a specific community than in a big-block-store-where-you-are-the-block. Even if that means the site doesn’t have an HTTPS certificate, or an AMP-optimized SEO — just don’t give out your home address, post any boudoir pictures, or accept money sent via Western Union.
My latest trick — and I’m finding it quite freeing — is to leave my phone behind, or use an alternate communication device (a “dumb phone“) that doesn’t track my location all the time. Most phone calls from unknown numbers are scams anyway, and most communication doesn’t actually need to be instant.
I’m not alone in mourning the death of the dream. Tim Berners-Lee, the inventor of the world wide web, is ready to re-invent it. Politicians now understand that its been weaponized against us. Even Harvard Law is writing about how the echo chamber is destroying nuance and discourse. This was supposed to be a global community of ideas, information, exploration and collaboration, where trolls were labelled as such, and spam recognized and laughed at. Instead, the users of the platform became increasingly simple, while our predators become ever more sophisticated.
When John Perry Barlow (yes, that one) posted the Declaration of the Independence of Cyberspace, he thought the enemy of that realm would be the government. He was wrong. We are the destroyers of cyberspace — we, and those we willingly became victims to. While he borrowed the phrase “Governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed” he could just as easily as written “Google derives its power from the consent of its users.” Stop consenting so much.
And what a summer it was! Its hard to believe this August marks 3 years in Ohio, but to make up for it, we had to go almost everywhere else!
We continued our annual Family Camp tradition, saw dear friends and much missed family in Ontario — including a parent’s weekend away in Niagara Falls, flew to Calgary, then drove through the Rockies to Lake Moyie, BC where the whole Wise clan reunited for the first time in years, and we got to visit with more good friends who live on the West coast. Nic and the kids got more time in Ontario, while I went to Vegas for work. And we attended 3 separate, but equally special weddings of young people we’ve known…since we were young! All that pretty much filled up our July, so with school starting early here, we stayed around home for a few weeks, where we’d invested in a membership at a private pool club for the summer.
Once the kids were settled back into school, and with much thanks to Nana and Papa for babysitting for a week, Nic and I took advantage of a work trip to Australia — scratching one big destination off our bucket list.
I spent the work days helping out, and speaking at an event, and we spent most evenings, and a good chunk of our last day exploring the amazing city of Sydney, and a nearby national park. Driving on the wrong side of the road in big city traffic was scary, and it was “winter” there (lows in the mid-60s) — plus that 23 hour trip is not to be taken lightly — but it was totally worth it. We even got lucky and spotted some wild kangaroos!
On an organizational note, the Internet has changed a lot since this site was first created, so I’ve re-arranged some functions to take better advantage of free services that are available (and reduce our need for other services that are no longer free/safe.) All of our pictures from this summer can be found via a link on the new home page of www.jonandnic.com — the clue to figuring out the password is there, too, and should be easy enough for anyone we know!
In the 90s, the world of software development pivoted around a concept called “Object Oriented Programming.” The previous unit of capability in an application was its functions or procedures (hence the later moniker “Procedural Programming”) where a program would move through a series of steps, often in a loop, executing functional steps (check for user input, process that input, write the result somewhere, repeat).
In Object Oriented Programming, an application is made up of things (or, “objects”) just like in the real world. Objects have functions, but they also have properties, and events. This lent itself well to the Graphical User Interface, where something like a button is easily understood as an object. A button has a property that describes its label text, an event that happens when its pressed, and a function it performs when that press is complete. Objects also have hierarchy, where one object is the “parent” of another — a model that lets a programmer travel a program from its higher level functions, to its smallest blocks of capability.
More powerful languages included a sophisticated feature called “classes.” These are a little harder to explain. If you think of a car as an object, then abstract that a little: a car is an object in a Vehicle class. All vehicles share some common properties, like a chassis and a seat, common functions like MoveForward, MoveBackward, and common events like StartingUp. Creating the class lets you define those once, and every object that derives from that class shares those attributes automatically.
You can then create a “sub-class”, called FourWheeledMotorVehicles, which shares all the common properties and functions of the Vehicle class, but declares its own set of common attributes. You can apply this cascading inheritance through as many sub-classes as you want, but you can’t actually interact with them — to do that, you have to create a object which is an instance of a class. An object inherits all the properties of the class it derives from, and those become interactive when the object is instantiated (created).
An information “super highway” then is full of objects that can be queried for information (through their properties) given instructions (through their functions) and can inform other objects of what’s happening to them (through their events.) And the class inheritance approach lets a programmer understand things about many objects, without having to know the full details about each of them (eg: most objects on this highway derive from the Vehicle class, so if I know how to get information from a Vehicle, I know how to get information from most of the objects.)
To get more information, a programmer may have to learn how to talk to the FourWheeledVehicle class; those capabilities are a little more specialized (some of what I learn might not be applicable to another class called TwoWheeledVehicle) but for that set of objects, also more specific and powerful.
Of course, this is only a surface explanation, and I provide it only to point out that this was a powerful concept that helped change computing permanently. One of the pioneers of Object Oriented Programming was NeXT, who delivered a brand new operating system around this model. That OS, called NeXTStep became Apple’s OSX, and iOS, powering modern Macs and iPhones. Other vendors were working on similar efforts, and by the end of the 90s, the pivot was complete… for some people.
The thing is, this powerful shift never really came to manufacturing — not fully. Manufacturing technology has layers, with primitive, physical switches, motors and buttons at the bottom, and orchestration and business software at the top. Those layers were famously modeled at Purdue in the 90s; a first step toward understanding the flow of data in an operation. At the top layers, most software moved to Object Oriented Programming — having been delivered by, and for, Information Technology (IT) resources. In the mid-to-bottom layers, technology remained largely in the realm of the electrical engineer; skilled in orchestrating logic flow, and used to working with physical wiring, programming for the electrical engineer evolved from wiring diagrams, into a concept called “ladder logic.” Ladder logic allows a programmer to express functions and loops in software, which are designed to be applied against physical equipment. This kind of programming is written to a PLC (Programmable Logic Controller) or PAC (Programmable Automation Controller) that controls the operation. We often call this Operational Technology (OT).
The result of this alternate evolution is that there is no object model in the lower layers of a manufacturing network. Sure, there are physical objects, and there’s a mapping between rungs of ladder logic, and points of data (called tags), to the real world — but that mapping is largely in the programmers head. There’s no forcing mechanism (and rarely even the facility) to model manufacturing objects in code. As a result, the individual or team who programmed a machine can look into the code and understand how the machine works — but no one else can. Nothing else can. Another program can’t come along, inspect the objects, map them against classes of common capabilities, and create value out of the information the system emits…because there’s no way to understand what that information means, without asking a human being to participate.
This is where my career began, about 20 years ago: building higher level information software systems that attempted to assemble an after-the-fact object model for a manufacturing system — by asking a human to construct it. If we could just get people to participate in (re)establishing an object model, we could give them powerful information (analytics) about what was happening with their systems. It took the industry most of two decades to realize that this wasn’t broadly accomplishable. The divide between the skills of the people who build manufacturing systems, and the skills of people who built information systems, was too hard and too expensive to bridge. For an “information superhighway” to come to life inside manufacturing, we were going to need to bridge the gap on-behalf of our users.
That’s what Shelby does — in a small way. By discovering devices on a manufacturing network, Shelby can match each of them to a device Class that we pre-define inside of Shelby (we call these “Profiles”). Using the closest match we can find, we’re able to create an instance of that device inside Shelby’s object model, and automatically begin asking the device about its status (calling functions), collecting information (defining properties) and surfacing diagnostic notifications (events), about some of the primitive components of the network. Shelby can’t understand what those parts are doing, or many details about how the objects are related to each other — that info is still trapped in the ladder logic. But it can do something we couldn’t before: it can create information value automatically, and begin to bridge operational and informational technology worlds together. That’s why Shelby works in minutes, where all other information software takes days, weeks or months.
This is only the beginning, of course. Understanding parts of a system is an important step along the way, but we need to get inside the head of the implementer — and the best surface we have for that is the Controller (PLC); the place where the engineer articulated their understanding, and intent for, the system. To automate this understanding is another technology leap, one that goes beyond modeling the presence of devices, and begins to understand the physics of an operation. That’s where Sherlock comes in, and that’s why its one of the most important innovations manufacturing will see this decade…
Its been a frustrating 6 years trying to find a church home here in the States. There’s lots of them, sometimes they’re just barely afloat, and when you get there, you start to wonder why they keep trying. We’ve been to lots, and given up on quite a few. We’re not fickle “church shoppers”. We know that churches are made up of imperfect people, like ourselves, and therefore there is no perfect church. We’re willing to make a commitment, and love other people through their foibles and hope they can put up with ours. But with the kids approaching middle school, its reasonable to have a minimal set of expectations, so that we can maintain that commitment through their challenging “youth group” years. Here’s some of the reasons we haven’t been able to find a permanent church home (within a reasonable drive of our actual home!)
You weren’t prepared
Having a theme and an anchor verse for your message is not preparation. You are charged with delivering the most important material in history — take that responsibility seriously. A good sermon requires careful study, serious exegesis, historical research, and thoughtful application, delivered in a structure that allows even the most immature congregant to follow along as you deliver the material. You don’t get to just pick a topic and pray for the Spirit to speak through you. Granted, thinly prepared material, disguised with a charismatic, folksy story-telling style is at least entertaining (I’ll get to that in a minute), but it doesn’t make up for a lack of substance. Disorganized rambling is even worse.
Whether you intend to deliver a topical message or an expository one, I expect your sermon to be backed by a significant chunk of contiguous scripture, which is read aloud and, during the course of your sermon, is properly contextualized (from its source) and applied (to the target.) And I say “contiguous scripture” because you’re not allowed to pull one verse from the Old Testament, another from the New Testament, and claim the Bible backs up whatever point you’re making — that’s called proof-texting, and you should be shown out of the room when you do it. That doesn’t mean you can’t show relationships in Scripture — it means you don’t get to make up your own.
(By the way, be real careful about fresh new discoveries in the Word — most of them aren’t fresh and new. Most of them are heresy that someone in the 1st century already tried.)
Your music wasn’t worship
I get it, church music is hard. Different people have different tastes, and most don’t like to be outside their comfort zone. Immature believers are unwilling to put their personal preferences aside for the good of the body. My point is not about style or preference, its about who the music is for (hint, its supposed to be for God!) When you lead corporate music, your job is to facilitate the worship of others, not put on a show, impose your preferences, or create an experience. You should all but disappear.
There are lots of ways to get that wrong: are you the only one who knows the song you’re singing? are you selecting a variety of styles so even the most “immature” congregant can feel a part of the worship — or are you only selecting your favorite style and hoping everyone else adapts to you? did you rehearse together in advance so that you can lead properly? is the tempo so slow that people are yawning? did you decide not to sing Christmas songs at Christmas for some reason? if you’ve rejected hymnals on the belief that no one can read music, are the words on the screen at least the ones you’re actually going to sing, or are you planning to free-form it, and leave everyone guessing? are you singing so many songs that the congregation is tired and the older folks have to sit down?
You don’t have to cater to everyone’s preference. You do have to create an inclusive and transparent environment, so that you disappear and God can become the focus. The golden rule for church music: don’t be a distraction…
You thought this was an entertainment venue
Related to music, but not strictly limited to it, I did not attend your church service to be entertained by you. There are plenty of entertainment venues in the world — I can go to a movie theater, a play or a concert if I want to be entertained. I didn’t come here for that. I came to be with fellow believers, to worship God, and hopefully to feed and be fed in the Word. Sound, lights and video can facilitate that, if used appropriately and with restraint, but they shouldn’t replace it.
I have no problem with technology in worship — we can give glory to God with the tools He gave us. But if we replace worship with tech or media, or use those things in ways that are so distracting that we can’t focus on what we’re there for, then we have made an idol of our technology, and we should repent of our sin and stop.
You tried to manipulate my emotions instead of engaging my brain
This kind of manipulation can happen with tech and media, but it also happens in more subtle ways. Repeating a line or chorus in a song repeatedly is a technique used in cults to induce a suggestive state — don’t do it. God doesn’t need us in a suggestive state to speak to us through you. Three times is plenty of repetition for healthy communication. “Setting a mood” by changing the lighting, inviting weeping testimonials on stage or playing them in a video, or delivering prayers that are disguised instructions to the congregation (“God, we know that many in the room want to come forward right now…”) are blatantly manipulative. I’m not talking about spontaneous response to the Holy Spirit — I’m talking about staged, planned activities designed to induce an emotional response. These are inappropriate.
Instead, allow God to deal with matters of the heart — what I feel is not your responsibility. Instead, pour over the Word, earnestly seek what God would have you share, and communicate that clearly and intelligently. Prepare your message with multiple levels of depth so that you can speak to everyone, no matter where they’re at in their maturity or life. By all means, use anecdotes or testimonials to help me understand or apply the message, but if you find yourself trying to create a feeling, or appeal to an emotion, just stop. That’s not teaching, its manipulating, and its wrong.
You didn’t create an on-ramp
Unfortunately, most of the churches who get the above things wrong are the ones who get this right. The inverse is also often true. You can get everything wrong, and keep people who came for the wrong reasons. You can get everything else right, but if you don’t have a way for me to fit in, you fail too.
And really it doesn’t take much. I’ve been a “professional church lay person” for 20 years — I’ve been a dedicated volunteer in many ministries, a part of church leadership, and I even have a seminary certificate. I’m ready to plug-in… if I can figure out how! We once attended an (almost everything right) church for a year, including signing up for a small group, going to kids activities, and trying to get ourselves invited to other events. After a year, no one knew our names except for the people we knew before we started going, and the people in our small group wouldn’t make eye contact when we saw them outside the group. One time I went as a new-comer to a dad-and-son event at this church, and I was the only one identifying and greeting other new-comers.
Here’s another hint: an on-ramp isn’t inviting new comers to identify themselves to the entire congregation, or participate in a large group activity that makes them stand out. Its a “Getting Started” class facilitated by a few members of the congregation who are gifted in hospitality, or a “Welcome Lunch” with the elders or pastor.
If your church can’t engage a mature Christian that’s ready and willing to get involved, then how will you ever reach the lost?
Getting it right
There’s lots of books out there, and lots of “mega church” patterns to try to follow. But despite all the church strategy, I suspect its much easier than you think. From all the churches we’ve seen over the years, I think the formula is pretty simple:
- Pastors: study the Word, communicate as clearly as you can, trust God to speak to the heart.
- Music leaders: don’t put on a show, don’t try to create a mood. Just lead music that everyone can sing and try to be invisible, so people can focus on God instead of you. If that means there’s less people on stage, and less technology involved, so be it.
- Church body: love God, and love your neighbor as yourself.
We won’t all get these things right all the time, but if you’d at least try, it’d be a lot easier to stick with you through the tough spots.
I’ve written about the tyranny of ‘or’ before. Turns out, in your mid (to-late) 30s, one of the toughest “ors” is work vs. family.
Don’t get me wrong, it should be an “and” not an “or” — but that doesn’t hold up well in reality. When a sales guy schedules a 4:30pm on a Friday, directly over-lapping the planned family skiing outing, and becomes or. When you travel internationally, and calling the kids before school means stepping out of a room full of VPs and their high-powered meeting, its an or. But those are fairly manageable ors.
If career growth requires re-location, it means taking your kids out of their environment and trying to re-plant them somewhere new, and that’s a little harder to choose. On one side of the picture, its the job that provides the environment, and when only one parent is working, the job needs to take priority. The job provides the home, so it doesn’t matter how comfortable things are right now — that comfort goes away without a job. On the other side of things, there’s a difference between job having, and job growing. Its probably possible to just have the same job for a long time (an entire childhood?) and not progress at all. If that’s true, then comfort is only at risk if the employer goes away.
Unfortunately, I don’t know what that latter scenario looks like. How do you decide, in your career, that you’ve reached the point of “enough” growth? At what point does someone say to themselves, “this is what I want to do forever?” Because if its possible to hold the same relative position for 20 years, while your kids grow up and launch out on their own, I’m quite sure its impossible to resume your previous velocity when that time period is up. At some point, it must become clear to all who observe you that you are no longer capable of anything else. So the bargain you find you’ve struck is that you can stay comfortable for 20 years, as long as you’re willing to stay there for 45.
And I have a pretty big data sample to back-up this theory. I’ve met many colleagues over the years who’ve been doing the same job most of their lives, and are just hanging on until retirement. Of those people, the post-retirement dreams I’ve heard reflect the stagnation they’ve come to accept. One guy I met, near his last day, thought he might go to dog shows in his retirement. Another was going to join a gardening club. If someone had told those people when they were 20 that thing they were working toward for the next 4.5 decades, the culmination of their career, the pinnacle of their achievement, and reward for their years of steady labor… was dog shows or gardening… would they not have run away screaming?
And isn’t escaping that worth some discomfort for the family? After-all, our kids learn from our example. For all they may resent the discomfort of change, would their adult selves not more intensely resent having a pattern of blandness instilled in them? Ben asked me the other day why grown-ups don’t have the same imagination that kids do. Maybe its because we’ve traded imagination for stability and comfort. Once you’ve put on the harness of a 30-year mortgage, and found a good school for your kids, maybe you can’t tolerate anything so scary as change, so you accept that things you imagined as a child were fiction, and that this is all you’ll ever be…
How do you balance what your kids need now, with what you’ll both need in the future? What if settling for something that seems good enough now, means you miss the opportunity to give them something great tomorrow?
Don’t read into this that we’re moving anywhere. We have no plans to, and we’re trying to avoid anything that might cause such a plan to emerge. But the corner I’ve found myself painted into is starting to feel pretty constrained, and if I can’t find a window to crawl out of, we may eventually have to entertain some ors again…
So we’ve begun our third year in Ohio, and it looks like we’re sticking around. 2017 was a little more expensive than we had initially planned, but we managed to pull it all off and end the year in the black.
After springing for an over-due trip to Europe for Nic and I in 2016, we got the opportunity to do it again early in 2017 — this time exploring Swiss Alps, piggy-backing on a work trip. Definitely an advantage to having Nana and Papa within driving distance!
The summer was the culmination of my professional efforts here in Ohio, with the launch of my very first product. Not my first product launch, but the first time that the product being launched was mine. As Product Owner for a pretty awesome team, it was exciting to see it coming to life — and get a pretty positive reception from customers and partners alike. It would have been a good time for an exit, something we opted to skip this time — but others did not. There may yet be a second act to Shelby, so we’ll see how that shapes up in 2018. Plus it gave us an excuse to take a family trip to Disney World in Florida, which was great for the kids — especially because Grandma was able to join us!
The kids continue to thrive in school. Ben’s done much better in the gifted program, Abi’s never had any academic challenges but the social adjustment was toughest on her — but she’s got that figured out now, and Eli pretty much runs her first grade class. Nic remains very involved at the school, taking on the role of treasurer of the PTO this year — experiencing all the drama and workload of a workplace, but without any sort of financial compensation for her effort. It does keep her close to the kids, and gives her a voice in school matters. Our county will go through some budget reductions next year, so knowing what’s coming as far as school closings and re-arrangements helps us think ahead.
We’re also on our third attempt at finding a church home. Volunteering every other weekend at a downtown church has been our most consistent church life experience. Finding something close to home to make our regular weekly commitment to has been an exercise in frustration, so hopefully this one works. We did get an invite to join in to a denominational family camp this past summer, which made for some wonderful memories for the kids — and maybe a new annual tradition.
We celebrated Christmas not in snow, but basking in the sun in Grand Cayman, which is a much better place to be than Ohio in the winter. The transition back to the cold and snow was pretty brutal, but it was a great visit with my parents, and definitely another trip we’d like to repeat.
In 2018 we hope to make it west-ward to see my family all in one place, and visit some friends and scenery we miss. Otherwise, more home maintenance/improvement projects, and keeping our older (but much loved) cars on the road should about consume our spare money and time budgets. Some changes will probably be necessary at work, to continue to grow, but we’ll try to keep those limited to ones that won’t change home life too much…
I’ve pretty much made a career out of good timing. Technology moves in waves, and riding those waves correctly means enjoying the highs and getting out before the crashes. For example, a successful product launch is a great high, but what comes after the launch is only partially dictated by what led up to it. The market is fickle, and success or failure is largely out of your control. Getting out after the launch gives you the best possible outcome: if the product succeeds, you get to tell everyone you were part of it. If it doesn’t, well, its in the past, and you can just move on…
Besides, incrementally improving an existing business year-over-year is nowhere near as thrilling as creating one out of whole cloth. So as a general rule, when I feel like I’ve learned what I need to, I look for another wave to catch. This timing has served me pretty well for almost two decades. So when we decided we were not looking to leave after my recent product launch, it was a definite break from tradition. On the other hand, my boss, who’d been riding the same wave up and down for 24 years, decided this was his high point, and opted to exit. And he wasn’t even the first. I was hired in a group of “Platform Leaders”, by a Director that unceremoniously exited the company a few months later. Two years after that, and I’m the only one of them left in that role.
Being the last man standing is definitely a new experience for me.
Ohio probably isn’t on anyone’s map of must-visit places. But taxes are reasonable, schools are good, government is usually only a little bit right of center, and real estate is affordable (if a little slow-moving.) Its a pretty decent place to hunker down for our kid’s sake. And while the job isn’t going to make us wealthy, it does pay the bills, and seems to continue to present opportunities for growth. Maybe developing an existing business is a challenge worth taking on, and its definitely time to add some management experience to my resume. So, for now at least, I’m the acting business manager for our new products teams — my own two, and one I’ve inherited. I’ll have to interview for the promotion sooner or later, and its definitely not a “sure thing” but its looking like I’ll stick around to see what happens.
Shelby’s big brother gets announced next week, and I’m certain there will be interesting things in store for at least another year or two…