The Wisdom of Uncertainty and "The Circle"

Happily, my recent retirement frees me to do some things I've always wanted to do, like attending last week's Conference on World Affairs (CWA) at CU in Boulder, the renowned “conference on everything conceivable.”

I was inspired by one standing room only session entitled "The Wisdom of Uncertainty."  The panelists did a great job of outlining the human dilemma in which we dislike uncertainty and take Herculean measures to avoid it, even though "not knowing" and questioning the basic assumptions we’re constantly making can be the very best path to renewed creativity, innovation, and growth.  They also pointed out that every amazing new breakthrough in science occurs when someone decides that they don’t know something, tosses out assumptions, and sets out to learn the truth.  One panelist asked the audience who had seen a sunset – and then explained that none of us had, since the sun doesn’t set, although the phenomenon that looks like the sun setting was only recently understood correctly after the "certainty" that the sun revolves around the earth was questioned.

The panelists also pointed out that there's a difference between confidence and absolute certainty.  For example, you can be confident that your efforts to write a blog will bear fruit, despite a case of writer's block from hell, even though you're not certain exactly what you'll come up with or whether the topic will remotely match your initial concept.  Uncertainty can pave the way toward new connections and ideas.

Speaking of “not knowing,” I just finished an unsettling novel by David Eggers called "The Circle" about a social media company in Silicon Valley that has absorbed all its relatively feeble predecessors (Facebook, Google) and metastasized into a behemoth organization with leaders Quite Certain that their innovations can solve all the problems of the world once they are able to “close the circle” by collecting and tying together all information and making it fully available and transparent to everyone for the greater good of humanity.  Thus, employees are encouraged and ultimately coerced where necessary to constantly share their perceptions and feelings. In fact, privacy is considered insubordinate since it robs everyone of the information and transparency needed to resolve problems and prevent wrong doing.

The novel’s protagonist is new hire Mae, a young woman the company immediately sets out to indoctrinate and who at one point is even led during a company-wide meeting to publicly utter the 1984-style maxims of The Circle:

SECRETS ARE LIES

SHARING IS CARING

PRIVACY IS THEFT

Mae is relentlessly pressured to share more and more of her most private thoughts and experiences, from intimate encounters to medical data.  At a couple of points I felt claustrophobic enough to put the book down and get a breath of fresh air, wishing Mae could do the same.

Kayaking on the bay, Mae escapes a couple of times to that most precious source of centering, solitude and peace, nature.  She paddles to an island, climbs a tree, wonders about the content of a bird’s nest and decides she cannot know this information without disturbing the nest and its inhabitants and so foregoes the knowledge. For a short while she remembers to breathe and acknowledges the value in "not knowing" what's in the nest or below her in the dark depths of the bay as she kayaks back to shore.

But she quickly gets in trouble at work for this, since being alone and not sharing information about her experience are viewed to be willful and selfish acts, unsupportive of the world view The Circle's leadership is so certain is correct.

I can recall a few times in my own career when I saw the same level of arrogant, absolute certainty from leaders, feeling both amazed and disquieted by it.  There is a wisdom in uncertainty, in seeing the world from constantly fresh perspectives and questioning self-limiting assumptions. In the end I would rather lean that way than walk around absolutely certain about life, the universe and everything. 

Also, it occurs to me that perhaps I’ve been way too lackadaisical up to this point about the question of privacy.  When carried to the extreme where it's socially unacceptable not to constantly share, the value of what is shared seems diminished--better to live with a greater degree of uncertainty.

Blogs and Conversation

The Observation Deck card says: "Ask a Question." Here's one: Why do I write this blog?

One reason is to record my voice. I've wished many times that I had more samples of the voices from my past--those I've loved and lost. Another reason is that I want to capture certain ideas I find valuable and remember them for future reference. Sometimes I look up an old blog I've written to remind myself of things I've figured out before, like Gretel following the trail of breadcrumbs through the dark forest.

A third reason is that I've always enjoyed writing. Why? Words fascinate me, and putting them down in just the right way to truly express an idea gives me satisfaction and joy. Just as others might express themselves with a painting or a song or a scientific experiment or a challenging rock climb, I express myself best with words.

A related question running through my mind quite often is: Why is it so damn hard these days to find good conversation? Sherry Turkle published a NYT article a few weeks ago called "The Flight from Conversation" that bemoans our tendency to focus on short electronic communications rather than the admittedly more messy, stop-and-start of genuine, real-time connection that can actually be had by looking someone in the eyes for an extended period of time, listening carefully and patiently to what is said, and then responding in turn. We do this, God help us, even when a person is sitting right there (I do it too). A recent Atlantic article asks: "Is Facebook Making Us Lonely?". Perhaps so.

In the olden days (my children), there were salons where intellectuals gathered for fascinating discussion. I fantasize about starting a monthly conversational potluck, where everybody brings a dish for dinner and a topic written on a slip of paper. Over dinner we would draw one topic at a time for discussion.

What could possibly go wrong? A political or religious topic might throw the group into heated argument--what joy! Or...nobody would know how to get started because we've all forgotten how to actually converse. People would clam up, or retreat to the bathroom to check their iPhones. But surely intelligent, verbally adept people could get beyond these obstacles. The more I think about it the more I love the idea, but I also fear rejection--what if I try it but nobody wants to come? They'd rather stay at home "liking" on Facebook and tweeting into the ether, or simply enjoying peace and quiet. As Sartre pointed out, "Hell is other people." Can conversational skills actually atrophy? Real conversation still happens for captive audiences on airplanes who are wirelessly deprived, so I see a glimmer of hope. Although I admit I am the first one to bury my nose in the book on the airplane, sending the clear signal that I Don't Want to Talk...perhaps I should revisit that.

Cargo Cults

I recently discovered the concept of "cargo cults" while reading about potential pitfalls in science and software development. The term surfaced after World War II. The South Pacific island natives had welcomed the valuable and more advanced cargo brought by the planes during the war. And when the war ended, the planes and cargo stopped coming to the islands. Since the locals never understood why the cargo was coming in the first place, the only thing to do from their perspective was to duplicate the previous conditions--so they built crude runways, wooden planes, bamboo radios and headphones, all in hopes of luring the planes back, and with them the cargo. Some of these ever-optimistic cargo cults persist to this day in the South Pacific.

Now that I've heard the term, I've started to see signs of cargo cults everywhere. At work, I see mixed results from efforts to put the structure of agile development in place (short iterations, Scrums, standup meetings) in some cases without a full understanding of the underlying principles of the Agile Manifesto (e.g., individuals and interactions over processes and tools, working software over comprehensive documentation, responding to change over following a plan, trusting a motivated team to get the job done). I see senior managers without a true belief in the end results possible with agile (greater opportunity to quickly respond to changing customer requirements, better quality much earlier in the process), conducting the scrum meetings with agendas they've devised but being unwilling to listen to and trust their teams enough to let them surface and resolve impediments, grow and improve together each day.

Some organizations go through the motions; they “do agile” without “being agile" and then are perplexed not see the hoped-for results. Without the willingness to trust the teams, good results can be hampered by fear-driven behavior.

If the previous jargon-filled example sounds like mumbo jumbo to you then consider my kitten, Zuni. Each morning (barring an egregious lapse by her faithful guardian), Zuni's food bowl is refilled with just enough cat food to keep her from becoming a fat little indoor cat. Who knows why it happens from Zuni's perspective, this reappearance of food, but it does happen with great regularity. On the rare morning when the bowl remains empty longer than expected, Zuni searches the house for one of her toy mice, carries it to the food bowl and sets it down. If there is no result soon, she searches the house again for a second toy mouse, sometimes placing this one inside the bowl for added emphasis. The weird thing is that this ritual does work from her perspective--eventually food appears in the bowl, and Zuni's cargo cult continues. Of course, this is my own less than scientific theory about Zuni's behavior and I have to admit therefore that the cargo cult in question may be my own.

I propose that a good number of religious activities in certain contexts are also examples of cargo cults. What cargo cults have you seen in your journeys?

Eschewing Techie Twinkies

"Moderation in all things - including moderation." - Mark Twain

Too much of a good thing...are social networks, computers, and mobile devices of all stripes robbing us of our opportunity to truly connect with each other and with nature as well as our basic ability to think in depth?
An article in the Sunday Boulder Daily Camera called "The Technology Diet" likens our constant high tech connectedness to a fast food addiction. Some folks, even 20-somethings, are going off the grid completely, seeking to again hear themselves think and get to a point where they can read a book steadily for more than a few minutes without checking email and Facebook.

The article mentions Lewis Mitchell Neef who has posted about Internet craving and the damage it does in his "Adrenal Fatigue Project," a "satire on the pointless blurbs of misinformation that the Internet constantly bombards us with, inducing a heightened awareness and fatigue." Neef urges not to drop out completely but to "use your time wisely and be present" (good advice under any circumstances). Use the Internet to find real connections and further good causes.

Also mentioned is Laleh Mehran's and Chris Coleman's W3fi movement (pronounced "wee-fy"), showcased recently at the Boulder Museum of Contemporary Art. They outline a three-step approach for being productive and avoiding mayhem on the Internet: know yourself online, be aware how your actions affect others, and know how you can connect with others positively and productively.

Andrew Weil has written another of his excellent down-to-earth books recently called Spontaneous Happiness on finding happiness in the modern world and one of his prime recommendations is to limit digital distractions and seek more connection with others and with nature to find the peace and sense of well-being we all seek.

There was a time I remember, my children, when we didn't carry around cell phones, when we didn't have something called a "digital presence on-line," when we read more, made our own music, had real conversations with each other.

I'm becoming more mindful of that lonely state I find myself in sometimes late at night, continually seeking something real online, long past the point of exhaustion, looking for truth in all the wrong places. That's a strong signal that it's time to power off and tune back in to real life.

The Bug

How to describe my fascination with Ellen Ullman's 2003 novel The Bug? The scene is Silicon Valley in 1984 when the mouse as an input device is still an innovative new technology. The story is told from the perspective of software developer Ethan and a tester Berta--both doing battle (often at cross purposes) to track down an insidiously elusive bug they end up calling "The Jester." The bug takes on a personality of its own, appearing only intermittently at the worst possible times, sabotaging important demos, and ultimately becoming a haunting nemesis for both of them. In the end, Ethan's efforts to debug his code become intertwined with his efforts to debug his life, which is rapidly unravelling all around him as he loses his wife, colleague, and the manager who appreciated him and lured him into the project to begin with despite Ethan's self doubt.

Ethan's real passion is an artificial intelligence program he calls the simulation in which he tries to program his cyber creatures to socialize and thrive. Survival in the simulation depends on whether a cell is surrounded with other healthy cells, but Ethan's creations are not thriving, despite his efforts. The novel's structure is divided into four parts, each preceded with a diagram from the simulation, showing the progression as a hapless cell is deprived of each of its neighbors in turn, paralleling Ethan's own life of increasing isolation.

The author was an English major before she got into high tech (I can relate to that) and weaves a number of literary allusions into the novel including Eliot's Middlemarch, Kafka's The Metamorphosis and Shelley's Frankenstein (the tester's name is Roberta Walton and the name of the narrator in Frankenstein was Robert Walton).

Ullman's descriptions of software engineers and their quirks absolutely rang true from my own experiences in the industry of the 80's--from the relentless fascination with puns to the office collections of toys like squirt guns and boffo swords, to the hilarious description of Ethan's attempts to answer pointed questions from the bean counters about The Schedule while balanced precariously on the only seat remaining in his manager's office--a bouncy ball.

The toys and puns take on a vaguely hostile air as the intense pressure from the venture capitalists to deliver on the impossible schedule increases. Ullman vividly describes the 7x24 obsession with churning out and debugging huge quantities of code and the challenges many technically brilliant engineers have with emotional intelligence and deciphering what is really going on in their bewildering social interactions. She also does a great job of depicting the challenges of management, aka herding the cats--both what an excellent manager can mean to the productivity and sanity of technical people as well as what havoc can be wrought by a terrible manager. She shows rather than tells us these things--with dark humor and clarity. The story does take a very bleak turn at the end, but she has lined up all the events that lead to this so thoroughly that the ending is logical and inevitable.

Ullman also penned a 1997 autobiography called "Close to the Machine: Technophilia and Its Discontents," about her Silicon Valley years as a software developer--she mentions that she was the first engineer to be hired at Sybase to work on the client side of groundbreaking client-server architecture. In "The Bug" the company is called "Intelligentsia" but includes an eerily accurate portrayal of one of Sybase's founders and his habit of nodding and smiling during every conversation regardless of the content.

Other novels have explored the computer world and its sometimes cutthroat ruthlessness. There aren't many novels that delve into the complexity of a coder's brain, motivations and inner life with this level of depth and empathy. To unambiguously tell the machine what it is you want it to do, you often must become part machine yourself--sometimes at great cost.

Are Newspapers Necessary?

Doonesbury has had a string of great strips lately on that antiquity, the newspaper.  To many younger people who are constantly online, newspapers seem old fashioned and ridiculously cumbersome.  I’ve been trying to clarify in my own mind why it’s just the opposite for me, why I’ve been fervently grateful for newspapers most of my life.

On Sunday mornings we get The New York Times, which certainly gives a broader and better perspective for the week than the Sunday Boulder Daily Camera.  Usually, as is the case today, we fold up beloved sections like “Week in Review” and “The New York Times Book Review” and stuff them in our backpacks prior to leaving the house.  Wherever we end up for coffee after our drive or walk, we have them handy and they can be guaranteed to offer up new ideas and happenings--information we do not know we don’t know.   

Today we sit outside Starbucks on Pearl Street in the perfect June air and M points out an article about the appalling idea of implanting e-books into one’s retina.  Presumably newspapers would also be available this way.  For someone like me who is still leery of considering laser surgery to correct my astigmatism, this seems beyond the pale.

Newspapers are more versatile than computers or e-books. You can read a newspaper anywhere and anytime you like, unencumbered by details like unavailability of free wireless Internet, lack of convenient power outlets, failing batteries or electrical equipment.  If you’re on a beach you can get smears of sunscreen sprinkled with sand and seagull droppings on your newspaper and really be none the worse for wear.  After you’ve finished reading the paper you can cut clippings from it to send to children in faraway cities or to be magnetically posted on the refrigerator door.

Long ago on humid summer nights in Indiana, those with the knowhow could shape and twist newspapers into loosely formed balloons and light them on the bottom edges.  The fire balloons would then gently lift and soar aloft, rising with the heat upward and upward into the dark night sky to be transformed into sparkling gold and black lace against the stars, with only the fireflies the wiser. 

If all else fails and you have no parakeets whose cages need lining or puppies who need emergency haven, you can recycle newspapers and they will live to see another day.

You can truly focus when reading a newspaper if you like, and not be lured to other links and obligations like checking your e-mail again or peeking to see if anybody likes you on Facebook. 

I will not go so far as to say newspapers are essential to my sense of wellbeing but with some good coffee in the morning, they do contribute positively.  Is this, then, an irreconcilable generation gap as the youth reads their news on the laptop screen each morning? To my broad blog readership, especially those under 25, I pose this question:  “Are newspapers necessary?

BinBots, or "Are You Acquired? Have You Ever Been Acquired? I Have."

A colleague of mine used to utter a phrase I always heard as “BinBot” when talking about an employee of a company that’s “been bought” – i.e. acquired by another company. Many years have passed since the last time I was acquired.

But last week my company and another much larger company announced what they say is a marriage made in heaven. Their CEO actually told us in a meeting that we were “beautiful” and they “don’t want to change a thing about” us – that we will remain an independent entity, etc. etc.

This much adoration is enough to make a girl bat her eyes and blush furiously, but I think I’ll not let it go to my head.

We know damn well the only constant is change. But we are assured that nothing will change, we are doing great already, we should proceed with our existing plans and priorities and not be distracted by the fact that a company ten times larger than us has plans to buy us, or the other fact that now there appears to be a potential bidding war over our lovely selves.

A girl has the urge to say, “Why don’t you and him fight?” But a fight would be unpleasant and somebody might get hurt—most likely the tiniest bystanders (that would be us). I hope the deal goes through smoothly and quickly—this would be much preferred over a prolonged engagement, or a bloody brawl at the wedding, or worse still a shotgun wedding with one of the other scarier suitors—who have belatedly realized how gorgeous and irresistible we are and how much they do not want someone else to have us.

It’s kind of nice to be desired again—it seems like it’s been forever.

Clouds, Part II

“I am not going to be in a f*#&%ing cloud, ever,” he proclaims after I try to explain the concept that one could avoid the annoying presence of Windows and all the virus-firewall-security downloads and warning messages by going to a very simple operating system called Google Chrome OS, coming soon to a computer near you.

From what I read, Chrome OS’s only job is to get you online, where all the apps you need, along with all your personal files, are stored and accessible to you, anytime anywhere. Some say that an “operating system = browser” approach is unnecessarily limiting and even claustrophobic; however, this level of simplicity would seem to be potentially attractive to my neo-Luddite soul mate who gets so frustrated when unexplained and mysterious events occur during his computer usage. On the other hand, the absolute need for an Internet connection to do anything useful could be limiting as well.

He says he doesn’t trust the Internet, but Too Late—he does most of his banking on it. He was finally able to buy the right size jeans (31 in seam, not easily found in brick and mortal establishments) by ordering them online last week. He recently discovered how cool it is to send an e-mail to a family member and get an almost instantaneous reply.

Could we stomach yet another high tech device on top of the two cell phones, conventional PC and Netbook we already have? I am not thrilled with the iPad, am thinking about getting a Kindle, but the Chrome OS intrigues me also and makes me think I’ll wait and see what a Chrome-based netbook might be like, keeping all my data and apps in the Google Cloud. Would it be safe long term? I did take one step in that direction a few weeks ago. In my continuing search for a carefree and automatic way to backup data, I signed up for Carbonite, which quietly backs up all your files to the Cloud over a couple of days, and then continues to quietly back up any new files or changes immediately as they happen. So you always have an up-to-date backup on-line. It works like a charm--you can easily see the files anytime, and download them back onto your PC whenever needed. Nevertheless, for the really important stuff I also back it up onto more conventional media periodically just in case. I don’t have my head completely in the clouds just yet.

To Boldly Go

We walk over to CU’s East Campus Research Park along Innovation Drive, noticing the inspirational quotations embedded in the sidewalk. For the first time I see that one of these is a quote I hadn’t spotted before:

“To boldly go where no man has gone before…” – James T. Kirk

Many questions arise, not the least of which is “will future generations realize that James T. Kirk is a fictional character (he is, right?) played by an actor named William Shatner? Who later in life ended up as a cocky senior partner in a Boston law firm ironically continuing to boldly go where no man has gone before?"

And another question: how do we know these are places no man has gone before? It can only be because women, having already been to these places and confirmed that there were indeed no men there nor had there ever been, have obligingly shared that information with the men. But we always knew women were good communicators. What the heck do you think Uhura’s job was on the starship Enterprise? She was the beautiful black communications officer; the men on board were at a loss to communicate with all those non-human sentient life forms without her help, as she flipped switches on some giant switchboard-like panel and fiddled with that pre-Bluetooth device in her ear that always seemed to be screeching painfully. It was Uhura who kept saying to Captain Kirk, “Yes, captain, I can confirm that this is yet another place where men have yet to boldly go! But you go now, boy.”

Speaking of communication, I still long for those wonderful devices from Star Trek that translated language automatically. If I could have one tool at work that I don’t currently have that would be it, since there are days, my friend (and I assure you that you are my friend of you are still reading this) when there’s a world of confusion and wasted time around miscommunication, misunderstandings, impedance mismatches and confused priorities that would be aided by such a device.

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

I’ve just finished rereading “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values” by Robert Pirsig circa 1974. I think I first read this book about 30 years ago, and I certainly understood it and got more out of it this time around. If you get it yourself, be sure to get the Perennial Classics Edition with extra insights and a new introduction by the author.

Three threads intertwine in the book: the story of a man and his son trying to connect with each other as they travel cross-country on a motorcycle, an examination of the indefinable concept of quality and the balance necessary between intuition and technology, and a man’s inner struggle to retain his sanity as he reconciles two essential parts of his being into one, for his son’s sake.

The narrator talks about a friend traveling with him who has no interest or patience for learning how to maintain the motorcycle he rides - foresaking technology to focus only art and intuition – and how this is a mistake. To have Quality (Oneness) in one’s life both art and knowledge are needed. He makes the point that this is true for any work or activity and uses motorcycle maintenance as the analogy. Although Quality cannot be defined, you know it when you see it. Quality in an activity is recognizable by the peace of mind a person feels during the activity. Without peace of mind there is no Quality.

These ideas seem very relevant in this election year. From p. 270:

To put it in more concrete terms: If you want to build a factory, or fix a motorcycle, or set a nation right without getting stuck, then classical, structured, dualistic subject-object knowledge, although necessary, isn’t enough. You have to have some feeling for the quality of the work. You have to have a sense of what’s good. That is what carries you forward. This sense isn’t just something you are born with, although you are born with it. It’s also something you can develop. It’s not just “intuition,” not just unexplainable “skill” or “talent.” It’s the direct result of contact with basic reality, Quality, which dualistic reason has in the past tended to conceal.

It all sounds so far out and esoteric when it’s put like that. It comes as a shock to discover that it is one of the most homespun, down-to-earth views of reality you can have. Harry Truman, of all people, comes to mind, when he said concerning his administration’s programs, “We’ll just try them…and if they don’t work…why then we’ll just try something else.” That may not be an exact quote, but that’s close…The reality of the American government isn’t static, he said, it’s dynamic. If we don’t like it we’ll get something better.

(Yes. In January, we will get something better. Don’t forget to vote in November.)

I recognize in these ideas the reason why I am unhappy at work when there is too much focus on numbers, metrics and people as interchangeable “components” and not enough focus on the essence of good work and good results which is represented by Quality.

Meanwhile, I think of my brother, who also read this book thirty years ago and related especially strongly to it. Paul was a mechanical genius – he could fix almost anything. He just knew how machines worked. He was highly interested in Philosophy and could hold his own in philosophical exchanges with my husband, which is no small feat. And Paul struggled to reconcile dueling parts of his personality at war with each other in a way that only a person who is bipolar can really understand.

Pirsig talks about the issue of “stuckness” – how seemingly insurmountable roadblocks and problems are actually opportunities to step back and open mindedly re-examine the facts and their relative importance. This also reminds me of my brother as well as myself and our experiences in the high tech world. P. 292:

Stuckness shouldn’t be avoided. It’s the psychic predecessor to all real understanding. An egoless acceptance of stuckness is a key to an understanding of all Quality, in mechanical work as in other endeavors. It’s the understanding of Quality as revealed by stuckness which so often makes self-taught mechanics so superior to institute-trained men, who have learned how to handle everything except a new situation.

In other words, you must set aside ego enough to admit you’re stuck (even if you’re supposed to be a pro) before you can start down the path toward a solution. At the time he wrote this book Pirsig, onetime professor of Rhetoric and Philosophy, was writing technical documentation for IBM computers. So, high tech folk, the question of Quality as peace of mind comes into play. P. 301:

Peace of mind isn’t at all superficial to technical work. It’s the whole thing. That which produces it is good work and that which destroys it is bad work. The specs, the measuring instruments, the quality control, the final check-out, these are all means toward the end of satisfying the peace of mind of those responsible for the work. What really counts in the end is their peace of mind, nothing else…The way to see what looks good and understand the reasons it looks good, and to be one with this goodness as the work proceeds, is to cultivate an inner quietness, a peace of mind so that goodness can shine through.

He says that this inner peace of mind, “involves unselfconciousness, which produces a complete identification with one’s circumstances…levels and levels of quietness quite as profound and difficult of attainment as the more familiar levels of activity.”

In other words - the profound quietness that can be found in the Now. I want to believe that somewhere, somehow, Paul has also finally found this peace of mind.

Hand-waving Ensues

So, over the holiday break my company, in a green frenzy, installed motion detector light switches in all of our offices. Now when I enter my office I don’t even have to flip on the switch; the motion detector smartly senses my entry and turns on the lights for me. Of course, it turns on all the lights when it was my habit before to have only some of them on. And as I am working away diligently at my computer late into the evening, motionless in my intense concentration, the lights helpfully blink out, since the sensor thinks I have left for the day.

When I am working at our California site in a smaller office with the same setup, I deal with this sudden and sometimes startling darkness easily by raising my hands over my head and frantically waving them in the air (much as you are instructed to do if you suddenly encounter a bear in the woods and need to make yourself seem larger), until the sensor sees that I am indeed still in the office and turns the lights back on. However, in my regular office here, my seat is too far away from the sensor and regardless of my hand-waving energy, I can’t get the lights back on unless I get up, walk toward the light switch, and either turn it on manually or move vigorously enough that it notices me and turns itself back on.

Of course, my chiropractor would be thrilled with this office improvement; it guarantees that in the evening after a long day, I will get up periodically and stretch briefly. Just goes to show there is always a silver lining in every cloud.

I am thinking about going over to Target and buying some of those toy guns that shoot rubber bands to hand out generously to all my co-workers – then we can shoot at the light switches to turn them back on without getting out of our seats.

Women in Technology

As I ponder my existence as a woman in the high tech industry, it is encouraging to see a few signs of progress. A guy I work with says that his college-age daughter, after a full circle exploration of everything from aerodynamics to veterinary medicine, has decided to become a software developer, and is very excited about it, doing quite well in her C++ class so far. In our conversation, I mentioned the fact that Frances Allen (check out her ideas on mentoring, networking and problem solving here) had in 2006 become the very first woman to win the Turing Award since its inception in 1966. See her picture at right - doesn't she look like she'd be interesting to know?

I learned about her by reading a blog entry by Joyce Carpenter of ComputerWorld, entitled “They took anyone…even women” - a quote from the late John Backus describing the formation of the IBM team that created Fortran.

It is still a challenge being a woman in high tech. I often notice even in this day and age, especially when I am traveling on business, that I am the only woman in the conference room, or one of very few. My approach to resolving problems is a different than many (although not all) of my male co-workers, and I know this can perplex them. I am more collaborative, more interested in sharing information, perhaps more willing to listen to both sides of an issue before taking a strong stand. (It would be interesting to see if my co-workers really agree with these self-observations – you never know how you are really coming across). Is this because I am female, or just my personality?

My father was always urging me in my teens and early career days to be tougher, stronger, more assertive. And over the years, I have done this in order to survive. What has been the cost? Do people still share their true thoughts with me as much, or do they hold back to avoid what to them feels like an argument (and to me feels like a spirited discussion)? These days, do I talk too much and listen too little? Food for thought.