I Attack The Darkness

So I'm going to run a role-playing game online, posting via a message board. It's with a few guys with whom I liked to 'game' when I lived in Illinois... in fact, gaming with them was so much fun, I didn't really want to give it up when I moved.

Yes. I approch being one of the biggest nerds alive.

I am shameless on this. I'm actually more proud than anything. Hardcore scientist, can quote the Holy Grail, better than average knowledge of computers, went to school forever and loved math, worked for a decade with lasers, paint miniatures, work for an electrical engineering company, and play D&D and all sorts of other D&D types of games. And that's just one small facet of me.

I also like a good white wine sauce with seafood.

Most of you, if you didn't know this about me, haven't really been paying much attention. Anyway, I'm sidetracked. The game. It's in a game system under which I've never played, nor have the players I think. It allows me to tell a story while getting direct input from a small group of others. It just so happens that this group of others can get me in stiches from laughter. It's all any of us can do to run the game while incorporating the wisecracks.

I wish I could translate it for you, but if you don't speak dork or nerd the nuance would be lost on you. And the humor is in the details. It would take forever to explain a simple phrase that causes a grin. Much in the same way that, at least for those of you that speak geek, saying "Leeeeeeeeroy Jenkins!!" elicts a feeling of knowing something really, REALLY funny.

http://www.leeroyjenkins.net/leeroy-jenkins-videos.htm

Such is the nature of the title of this post. The default manner in which someone may find themselves playing a game of this nature is to attack everything that breathes, and to eschew the subtlety of social interaction. Most people know that there is a significant amount of dice rolling involved with the game, with several creative three-dimensional baubles; the four-sided pyramid, eight-sided octahedron, ten-sided, twelve-sided, and twenty-sided icosahedral dice all accompany the ubiquitous six-sided cube. They are hackers and slashers, and they are the stage at which many of the cranially-inactive throw their hands up and say "D&D is for nerds." Yet they usually proceed to lose their money at craps tables, playing the role of "sap" for the casino, and this is socially acceptable.

The beauty of the games are that you help to determine the outcome, and that there is rarely a set course on which the game must travel. As a player, you are reading an interactive book, out loud, with others and trying to accomplish something. The most fun is when somebody thinks of something that no one else has, a thought that twists the mind just enough that you may have touched a place in the creative universe that is new, vibrant, and worthy of contemplation.

It is a place where the seeds of genius are reaped.

That may be a bold, possibly even an arrogant statement to be sure. But part of the element of genius isn't the acquirement of knowledge, but the application of knowledge- in other words, wisdom. It's wisdom that allows you to do things that others may not have thought to do, and that is a path with unending promise.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to running my game. If this sounds semi-interesting to you and you want in, send me an email. The guys are very friendly, and who knows- you may actually like it.

The Other Guy

The other poster's been cramming for a CISCO certification, and is holed up in a cave, much like Gollum, eating fried cheese puffs and burning his retinae on practice tests.

Or maybe it's a SISQO test and I misunderstood. Whatever, he'll be back.

Promotion

I never went into my job thinking I would be promoted into the management level.

I thought about when it would happen, and it was a bit down the road. When we had kids. And a house, and a lawn and such. I just didn't feel like that guy, the half-dead, humorless, everything-is-corporate guy who seems eerily distant for one reason, and that is his title. But here I am. Today, at our annual winter staff meeting, I will be announced as the Director of Quality for my company.

And I'm scared out of my socks about it.

The mood changed instantly when I found out. I was flabbergasted, I was certain that they would find an outsider to hire, to bring in to handle the duties. But there I was, looking at the organization chart with our operations executive, and him pointing to the quality director spot and saying "we're thinking of moving you here." Flattered, in disbelief, amazed, and humbled, I agreed to the move.

I asked for it, in a sense. In my performance reviews, I'm routinely asked for goals, and what I would like to accomplish. I set my goals high but not back-breakingly so, goals that may with just the right amount of effort be 'do-able.' Even then, I don't expect anything. This year I was asked what I'd like and I said "I would eventually like to be billable to overhead." For those unfamiliar, "billing to overhead" means not working directly on a project with tangible output but getting paid anyway- managers and support staff are in this category. I have been directly billable since I started doing my job, and it makes sense. "You did X, so you get the payment we agreed upon." That is now supplimented.

When I broke the news to two lunch friends, the car got really quiet. There were congratulations, but then the real sentiment was dropped: "Guess you can't go out to lunch with us anymore."

I don't want to be that guy! (stomps his feet and pouts, says repeatedly) I don't want to be that guy! I don't want to be that guy! I don't want to be that guy!

Perhaps my childish protests are in vain. After all, I may choose to do what I want. But common lore seems to promote this idea of separation of management and workforce, that you can't mingle heavily with the people you may have to fire, you can't show favortism, and so on. And don't you want to get to know the managment better, anyways?

Truthfully? I don't really care. I work with good people. Top to bottom, they are all good people. I won't have any direct reports, and I won't be hiring any. I'm not the boss of the people I used to work with, and he's just as likely to chum around with his employees as I would be. If I'm invited to a high end lunch, I'll accept it. If it becomes more frequent, I'll turn them down.
But the fear comes from the expectations, the shift in job focus, the shift in responsiblities. I don't know if I can do what they put in front of me. (The peanut gallery laughs, because to them I've done everything that's been put in front of me.) I'm my own harshest critic, and the worst thought I have is having a critic that's in charge of me that's harder on me than I am. The reason is simple. If the critic is harder on me than I am on myself, then there's outside chance that I just don't care enough to achieve to the critic's level.

It's time, I think, to try to blaze a new trail- my trail, the one where I do things my way and accept the consequences of my decisions. It's the way I try to live already, so what I'm really saying is I will fight any attempts to change me from the me I am right now. It's what got me promoted, after all.

Brown Paper Packages

For those of you that give or receive Christmas gifts around this time of year, the discussion I'm having here will sound mundane. It's odd, in a way, that I hadn't really thought about this until now. But the situation being what it is... well, instead of rambling on in a psuedo-justification, I'll just get on with it.

Living 'out here' means that our gifts don't come at first glance as if they have been part of 'the ritual.' You understand what that ritual is- you buy a gift you think or believe someone will like, lay it before you, then cover it in a wrapping. This wrapping may be simple, but usually tends to towards the extravagant and may even have accessories and other doo-dads and trinkets. The wrapping is cut just so, the tape applied with as much precision as one can muster, and the extras such as ribbons and bows added with a flourish. Heck, even throwing the gift in a bag can't be done without colored tissue, a colored or patterned bag, and a tag on it.

The first time I had ever seen the sensible gift wrap really, truly abused was by the other guy that's writing in this column. It was delivered as a gift, but with such disdain it actually made me laugh for the juxtaposition. (The recipient expected it, so it wasn't considered offensive.) The gift was wrapped in newspaper, with an occasional layer of tape- it required effort to open. I made him pay later for his savagery by presenting him with a gift as such, delivered with more stealth. He appreciated it- or at least his near hyper-ventilating laughter lent me to believe as such- as he ripped through the fifth layer of duct tape and newspaper, only to find a sixth. All that for a video game.

Receiving a gift that has been treated via 'the ritual' means it therefore must be addressed through yet another, separate 'opening' ritual. You receive the gift, usually on Christmas day but whatever day that has been designated as a gift exchange day is acceptable. It is suggested that you appreciate the efforts of the first ritual in order to follow rules of courtesy (frequently ignored by ravenous materialistic youth). Once appreciated, light banter may take place that usually hints at feigning either an attempt to guess what the gift is or looked bemused and present that the opener has no idea what it could possibly be (again, often ignored). Only then may the gift be opened and inspected for acceptance. Hilarity then ensues. Oops, I meant appreciation then must be displayed, unless the gift was odd, unwelcome, or just weird. The uncomfortable reaction that, contrary to belief, is very much a part of the ritual must be also treated with social grace lest bad karma befall the recipient/opener.

The gifts I receive now come through UPS, FedEx, or the Postal Service, and there are no festive colors. No 'just-so' taping. No bows or ribbons. Instead, they're brown cardboard boxes, with a dull mailing label, and they look rather industrial. Decorated boxes aren't good for shipping, they say. You can't wrap things and send them, it's too great a security risk; I do understand that and that's not a problem. Coming home to see a pile of brown cardboard, some re-used, some with logos but most without, it reminds me of the distance between me and my family.

You may be sitting there and saying "Well, just open them and see if they're wrapped!!"

I would, but I do not have confidence that they are, infact, wrapped at all. The result would be Christmas gifts that would be opened and known prior to Christmas, which violates the second opening ritual. It's a risk I'm not willing to take.

So remember, when you are sitting with your families or friends and partaking in these rituals, that not everyone that receives gifts can partake in the traditions. Do remember the family and friends you wish you could be with because they are the ones that make you feel generous and bring out the better part of you not just now, but all year-round. Consider that I may be close to you from 2,500 miles away, yet the person that is farthest from you on this planet may live right next door. And if you're lucky enough to see the full moon on the night of the 24th and 25th, know that I can see it too and that we're not that far apart at all.

Best. Commercial. EVER.

Mmmm....toasty.

'A' Case for 'a' Case

“Oh no, there’s a computer problem.”

Normally said at an office, this sentence causes panic in most people. I work in an environment with employees that are… more technically skilled on average than most places, like, say, Dunder-Mifflin. I may be Dwight sans beet farm. I work for an automation engineering company. You might say the staff is good with computers.

But when something happens, even the employees are obligated- nay, required- to enlist the services of the dreaded IT department. These exchanges are usually comical to the IT staff, who have people walk through the troubleshooting kiddie-step by kiddie-step. I am infuriated at the pace of troubleshooting mostly because of the near condescending tone of the IT help staff, and frustrated that I can’t do this myself.

But a group of tech-savvy people, well, they may be able to solve the problem if they communicate well and have the system in front of them. Maybe. If they know how things work.
So our remote worksite, one at a client’s campus and not our home site, has been moved from time to time with relatively little effort. We use a wireless modem to conduct our internet business, thus avoiding the threat of attacking the client’s oh-so-secure network superstructure while being able to perform our day-to-day requirements. But from time to time, our IT department feels the need to perform an upgrade. This has happened twice and has been more disruptive to work than the four moves we have encountered.

What prompted the most recent disruption? We switched wireless modems.

If a computer is not programmed appropriately it doesn’t work, so sayeth the “garbage in, garbage out” edict. Technically a problem doesn’t really occur with the computers themselves. Most of the time, it’s what you told it that causes the errors. We got into that situation with the new modem, but we had to call IT first.

We understood the status of the machines, and we could describe what the problem was: the DHCP router wasn’t assigning an IP address. IT, however, doesn’t operate that way. They start from the beginning and reaffirm step-by-step what may or may not be the problem. The downside to that is that if you understand what’s going on and can tell them, they are required to do the same spiel. I was on the phone for two hours before the IT person said to me:

“Huh. So the DHCP router isn’t assigning an IP address. I wonder why?”

Through trial and error, the engineers managed to solve the problem. We also managed to find the source of the error. Instead of having a security key of 123ac456789, we were typing in a security key that was 123AC456789. Robots and droids worldwide titter with glee at the humor. The net cost was 48 man-hours lost to solving the problem. Over a week’s worth of work, because the IT person didn’t say “lower case ‘a’,” but just “type in ‘A’.” It wasn’t the IT person’s fault for thinking we were entering characters in the appropriate case. It wasn’t our fault for not specifying the case of the letter.

It’s almost always the thing you take for granted in communication that is the critical failure path.