Stop surfing, make friends, Indian students told

“Stop surfing, make friends, Indian students told”

This is a fascinating article from a few days ago. Apparently administrators at several of the Indian Institute of Technology (IIT) campuses are becoming concerned with the toll that Internet addiction is taking on its students.

“The old hostel culture of camaraderie and socializing among students is gone. This is not healthy in our opinion,” said Prakash Gopalan, dean of student affairs at IIT-Mumbai.

They’ve consequently imposed policies aimed at redeeming the misguided souls.

Starting Monday, Internet access will be barred between 11 p.m. and 12.30 p.m. at IIT-Mumbai’s 13 hostels to encourage students to sleep early and to try and force them out of their “shells”, Gopalan said.

“There has been a decline in academic performance and also participation in sporting, cultural and social activities has gone down,” he said.

In case you aren’t familiar with the IIT system in India, these are top-notch academic institutions, where the very brightest students in India prepare for their careers. If this were America, think Stanford, Harvard, MIT, Berkeley (forgive me if I neglected your favorite top-ranked academic institution in this randomly ordered short list… okay, Carnegie Mellon).

I haven’t decided whether I agree with the new policy or not, but I absolutely agree that Internet addiction is increasingly taking a toll on the youth of the world, including bright engineering students who are otherwise committed to making something of their lives.

In our household we’ve gone through various iterations of Internet lockdown because of deliterious effects on the children as perceived by the parents. Obvious concerns include pornography in all its forms, Internet predators and the usual cast of foul characters. But even more innocent pastimes, like online gaming, can produce addictive behaviors.

Maybe what I’m about to say is hypocritical coming from a Computer Science professor, but I’d much rather my teenager were outside riding a motorcycle than inside surfing the net or playing World of Warquest (apologies to FoxTrot) or Run-escape (hyphen added by the author). I’ve watched individuals outside my own home throw away their lives, their education, their careers, their futures living 16 hours a day in a virtual world, while almost entirely ignoring the actual world around them.

Computers and technology play an important role in improving the quality of our lives. I enjoy the heck out of solving interesting problems in the software field and playing with the latest gadgets. But there’s a time and a place for appropriate use of technology, and it’s not all the time, and it’s not every place.

Never solve a personnel problem with a policy

This is the inaugural axiomatic observation for a reason. Violation of this fundamental principle is frighteningly widespread, and its effects are broadly demoralizing.

The common form looks something like this: You’re an employee in an organization (company, university, whatever) and someone in said organization (call him S) makes a pretty bad mistake (M). Management’s next move should look something like this: S is taken to the woodshed, a proper willow switch is selected, and appropriate counsel regarding M is applied to S’s hindquarters. Other employees become aware that S now walks with a limp, and hence become aware of said woodshed experience, thus learning from the mistakes of others.

The problem seems to be that this course of action requires making an exception out of S in a way that may make management uncomfortable. It also requires deep individual thinking about the particular circumstances surrounding S’s behavior (M). I suppose in our modern litigious society it also exposes management to a lawsuit if they don’t treat everyone precisely the same way in the same circumstances. The problem is that the notion of identical circumstances is largely a myth. Every occurrence of M_i really has to be dealt with on an individual basis in order to actually be fair. That means time to discuss and deal subjectively, which makes many people nervous.

At this point, the easiest (read “most spineless”) way to manage is to craft a policy (P) which is then imposed on everyone in the organization, even though 99 out of 100 never had a problem with M. The real problem is when P has negative effects on innocent individuals, or (as is often the case) on the organization as a whole.

True story to back this up. Long long ago I was a manager in a company that will remain nameless to protect the guilty. I received a memo (which I still have in my files) pointing out that some managers were overspending their catering budget. Therefore… (drumroll please…) effective immediately, all catering will require a Vice President signature in order to be approved. I swear I’m not making this up.

What’s wrong with this picture? Gosh, where to start? How many managers were guilty? None that I personally knew. That’s not statistically pure empiricism, but I seriously doubt the problem was widespread. But even if it was, it’s not like they didn’t know who was blowing their budgets on donuts! Proper behavior would have been to systematically bring each offending manager (or both of them, or all three, whatever) in to the Vice President, who would select a suitable willow switch, etc.

Instead we now create the following scenario. A manager like me, who had never overspent any budget on anything ever, was punished in the following manner. First of all, do you know how much overhead there is in getting a VP signature on anything?! Could take weeks. So if I want donuts at my team meeting this Friday, I should have submitted a request in writing a week or so ago. But since the new policy was put into place, the VP’s desk has sprouted a signing pile of biblical proportion.

All that aside, we have to keep two things in mind. First, we’re talking about five bucks! Second, management is actually asserting with a straight face that the VP can make rationale, informed judgments about 30 instances of $5 worth of donuts on several dozen teams over multiple weeks better than the managers of those teams could have?! Still makes me crazy just thinking about it.

After the first couple attempts, I found that I’d wait a month, and then get 3 approvals in the same day, two of which were too late because the meetings had already happened. We began to figure out that with the influx of paperwork to the VP of Signature Bottlenecks, the stack would more or less sit until the overall numbers looked good, and then he would sign the entire stack (or the top half of it) in one mad flourish.

Ultimately my course was fairly straightforward. On Fridays, on my way to work, I would just go by the local donut joint, buy a couple dozen donuts myself, out of my own pocket, and bring them to team meeting. As a manager I felt that donuts were a positive thing in a meeting, and the amount of pain inflicted on me and my team by the system exceeded the $5 it cost me to just pony up and buy the refreshments myself.

But of course, it was the beginning of the end for the anonymous company. What does it suggest to anyone involved in the communal effort of constructing world-class and industry-leading software products when a few goofy excesses by an isolated pod of individuals leads to such a wildly inefficient and universally punitive policy for all? Suggests that there may be a leadership void somewhere between you and the top.

In machine learning, when an algorithm becomes too adapted to a particular training set, they call that overfitting the data. It’s bad, because while the algorithm smokes the test data, it ultimately fails (often badly) in the general case. It’s a fundamental result in machine learning and folks in that community are very cautious about it. Establishing a universal policy to correct isolated personnel problems is a classic example of overfitting the data. It’s like a conductor attaching radio tags to the ears of all orchestra members because the 2nd chair in the oboe section missed practice three times.

“The Design of Everyday Things” by Donald A. Norman

This is the inaugural post in the “Best Books” forum. I selected “The Design of Everyday Things” by Don Norman for three reasons: 1) It’s excellent; 2) The principles expressed within it are relatively simple but profoundly impactful; 3) I read it recently, so it’s been on my mind lately.

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This book was originally published in 1988, and has since sold more than 100,000 copies (as the cover proudly asserts). Somehow I managed to miss reading it for 18 years, but finally stumbled onto my own copy just last year. I found it moving, motivating, and life changing. Even more than that I found it affirming as a user of the world around me.

“Most accidents are attributed to human error, but in almost all cases the human error was the direct result of poor design.”

“When you have trouble with things — whether it’s figuring out whether to push or pull a door or the arbitrary vagaries of the modern computer and electronics industry — it’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself: blame the designer. It’s the fault of the technology, or, more precisely, of the design.”

As someone with a Ph.D. in Computer Science I’ve had the repeatedly uncomfortable experience of helping someone with some random, poorly designed program or device, and they look at me like my background and education will allow me to divine the purpose and processes that underly a pitifully designed piece of whatever. Alas, my doctoral research was not in bad design or horrible user interface. But alack, much of my experience as a user is!

Even more demoralizing is witnessing a user being systematically dehumanized by software, or by some device. I watched a desk clerk stumble through a pitifully designed program, running on Windows, and then watched her look up at me, completely defeated, and apologetically murmur, “I’m just not good with computers.” I looked back at her and said, “Maybe it’s the program that’s stupid. Maybe it was poorly designed, and that’s why you’re struggling to do something so simple.” Her look was priceless, like this idea had never before dawned on her in her entire life.

Some tidbits that I found particularly meaningful:

“… good design is also an act of communication between the designer and the user, except that all the comunication has to come about by the appearance of the device itself.”

“Rule of thumb: when instructions have to be pasted on something (push here, insert this way, turn off before doing this), it is badly designed.”

Norman talks about door knobs, light switches, keyboards, and lots of other everyday devices that routinely drive us nuts.

“Designers go astray for several reasons. First, the reward structure of the design community tends to put aesthetics first. Design collections feature prize-winning clocks that are unreadable, alarms that cannot easily be set, can openers that mystify. Second, designers are not typical users. They become so expert in using the object they have designed that they canot believe that anyone else might have problems; only interaction and testing with actual users throughout the design process can forestall that. Third designers must please their clients, and the clients may not be the users.”

You get the idea. I don’t care what you do for a living. Read this book!

Axiomatic observations

I’ve had a number of conversations recently in which I became acutely aware that my deeply held beliefs about design, leadership, quality — really anything else in life that I value — were strongly anchored in beliefs so firmly ingrained in my thinking and feeling as to function in an axiomatic function. This is very much a “no duh” realization, since it’s not like I’ve never had those thoughts before. But in light of this recently launched blog, I realized that I needed to create a new place to record and discuss these heartfelt and strongly held axioms and their impact on other important issues.

Ultimately these axioms form patterns (axiomatic patterns? idiomatic patterns?) that are essential or foundational to the higher level patterns of excellence (like well-functioning teams, excellent design, and quality of whatever form). Having said that, I’m also aware of the risk of digressing to platitudes in the name of principle. You know, “Work smarter, not harder!” Or, “Think outside the box!” What in the heck do these things mean?! Do they actually capture something fundamental and axiomatic, or are they just smoke screens for deeper thinking? Perhaps I need to launch the anti-axiom forum as well and call it “Platitudes.” Hmmm… Not a bad idea… :)

In any case, at this point I’m not trying to overanalyze the impact of these axioms, but just let the ideas flow and be captured. It may provide a resource in the future for deeper analysis. And of course, a counterpoint to the impending “Platitudes” forum…

Namin’ the Lab

One of my all-time favorite a cappella groups, The Bobs, did a brilliant song in 1989 called “Naming the Band” which includes the following lyrics:

“We’re lookin’ for a drummer
Or someone with a van
Our hair is getting longer
But the most important thing is namin’ the band
Namin’ the band.”

It totally captures the dilemma of naming inanimate objects like bands and labs. With my recent research transition from wirelessness to software engineering, we’ve been going through the pain. The old entity was the “Mobile Computing Lab.” Pretty clean, reasonably catchy, only 862 Google hits — and the first hit is us at BYU!

But who wants to be the “Software Engineering Lab”?! Apart from being polysyllabic and terribly boring and generic, it generates 48,500 Google hits. Who can throw their support behind something that vanilla?! Besides, the TLA (“three-letter acronym”) is SEL. It begs the question, “At what price?!” You could refine it to “Software Engineering Research Lab,” which adds two syllables, generates a slightly silly ETLA (“extended three-letter acronym,” a.k.a., “four-letter acronym”), SERL, and more than 2,000 Google hits. So far no good.

We toyed with “Software Engineering Research Group,” which is also polysyllabic, generates 45,900 Google hits, and sports an acronym (SERG) that suggests a sycophantic relationship with one of the Google co-founders. No good.

“We should be writing tunes
and learning where to stand
Instead we’re spending all our time
Doing nothing but … naming the band”

er… lab…

Refusing to accept long-winded mediocrity, we struggle tremendously with naming the lab. We went through “Software Quality Research Lab” (SQRL, pronounced “squirrel”), and the extended version, “Software Quality Research Lab Big Basic Questions” (SQRL BBQ — draw your own conclusions).

“We were gonna call ourselves Elvis Hitler
But someone beat us to the punch”

We had an inspired idea to call it LASER (“Laboratory for Advanced Software Engineering Research”) until we realized that Lori Clarke and Lee Osterweil at UMass Amherst had already stolen our idea. We then toyed with settling for “Laboratory for *Ordinary* Software Engineering Research” (LOSER). Despite its draw, we rejected it for obvious reasons.

“We’ve got our own equipment
and a great rehearsal space
All we need’s a heavy name
to throw in your face”

Like Archimedes, I had my “Eureka!” moment in the tub while struggling in desperation, scribbling ideas on a partially soaked notepad. Unlike Archimedes, I did not consequently run through the streets of Syracuse (or Salem for that matter) naked. Best for everyone involved really.

Okay. Here we go… (Cue the drummer…)

The Sequoia Lab. SEQUOIA — Software Engineering Quality: Observation, Insight, Analysis.

Everyone in the lab immediately jumped on board. Unanimous consent. One explanation is that the idea was brilliant. Another is that the lab members were sick of namin’ the lab and would have agreed to just about anything I threw myself behind. Another is that a rumor had begun to circulate that I was seriously considering going back to SQRL BBQ.

For the record, “Sequoia Lab” generates only 282 Google hits. Also for the record, all of those labs involve forestry (go figure). Not a single software hit. Looks like it’s ours for better or worse. If we begin to be pestered by the spotted owl people, we can always talk to Mr. Brin for potential lab sponsorship and a convenient name change.

Visitors, this way

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What does it mean?! Perhaps it makes more sense in Chinese.

This picture was taken at the Emporer’s Summer Palace near Beijing in May 2006.

I guess I always presumed that directional signs were there for clarification, helping you to avoid the non-obvious bad path. But what’s the alternative here? Straight over the wall and into the creek? Perhaps.

Leaning Truck of Beijing meets Great Wall of China

I took this photo outside of Beijing in May 2006 just as we made the turn-off to the Great Wall.

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Just over those hills on the right… the legendary Great Wall of China, standing solid for thousands of years, visible from space, one of the design wonders of the ancient world.

Immediately to our left… the Leaning Truck of Beijing, one of the design wonders of the modern world (the viewer wonders why this thing doesn’t just tip over).

You can’t script this sort of thing.

Interactive Voice Response (IVR) systems

This inaugural post in the category of “Bad: Problematic Designs” concerns a technology known as Interactive Voice Response (IVR). The core idea of IVRs is a set of verbal menus that are navigated by the caller in a variety of ways. The most inocuous instantiation of this technology simply guides the user through choices, allowing the user to “say or press” a certain number. The main complaint is the overarching idea that one must navigate through a hierarchical tree of perhaps several dozen total options before talking to a person. In some situations you simply can’t get to a person at all, so if the automated option doesn’t exist, you’re hosed.

From a high-level view, these systems beg the question — just what value-add is coming from all that navigation? Are there really 27 people standing by, one for each leaf node in the tree of options? Does it ultimately dump the caller to the same pool of operators, but with a note to that particular operator concerning your ultimate quest? (“I seek the holy grail…”) Or is it just cathartic for you as a caller to really think through your motives before deigning to bother one of their operators?

Granting the premise that forcing the caller to traverse the tree adds some value (to the caller) that compensates for the time required to do it, there is a distinct advantage to the “press or say [number]” option — mainly the cell-phone-while-driving scenario. If I can drive while menu navigating, it’s far less hazardous to say “five” than press it. (The relative merits of talking on a cell phone while driving is clearly a topic for another day.)

So I think I’ve become habituated to this rudimentary approach to IVRs, so long as I can 1) get to a person 2) within a reasonable traversal depth in the tree 3) in a reasonable amount of time. But lately the approach has seemed to shift. One automated system I call regularly no longer gives me menu choices with the “say or press [number]” option. Now it says things like, “If you would like to check your balance, say ‘Check balance,’” etc. I figured out quickly that if you just track these options numerically, you can just press the corresponding number on the keypad. So if the first option was to say “Check balance,” you can just press ’1′ instead.

Now a pause for psychological introspection by your host… Why does this bother me enough to hack the system until I understand how to press numbers instead of say phrases? I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because I have an inherent distrust of technology, especially when it begins to get uppity. Maybe it’s because I have had such pitiful experiences with voice recognition software in the past. Maybe it’s because I know that I’m interacting with a computer, and I’d like to do that on fundamentally low-level terms. Maybe it’s because I’m really irritated by the excessively chipper automated voice saying, “Okay!! Let’s get the balance for you, big boy!!” (Frighteningly reminiscent of Eddy, the shipboard computer from Serius Cybernetics Corporation in the original BBC radio programs of the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.) I’m just looking for an account balance in the most efficient manner possible and I don’t want to emotionally bond with a voice recognition system!

Today I hit an all-time low (or high as the case may be). The MP3 file posted here is an actual recording of my conversation with an IVR protecting the front gates of one of our government agencies. Amazingly, when I actually got to the operator, he was remarkably personable and helpful. Perhaps it was only in comparison to the pseudo-personality I had to wade through in order to get to him.

Today’s lunch discussion of this experience with my Ph.D. student Dan Delorey (aided and abetted by the nearly intoxicating influence of a fire grilled chicken salad from Cafe Rio in Provo, Utah) has given rise to two new, but related, ideas, soon to be launched in this space.
1) Tell your troubles to the IVR. Fine, mister uppity-human-wannabe computer! You wanna talk? Let’s talk!
2) IVR Wars. Let’s get some of these systems talking to each other if they’re so smart. Let’s see if Sears can get some answers from Delta Airlines. We don’t know yet what the criteria will be for victory… The first one to get a human on the line? The last one?! The first one to hang up? We’ll have to think through this a bit.

Bose QuietComfort 2 Acoustic Noise Cancelling Headphones

The first time I tried on a pair of Bose Acoustic Noise Cancelling Headphones, I was on a cross-country flight with one of my graduate students, David Vawdrey. He had just acquired a pair for himself, and was so excited by the experience that he insisted on giving me a live demo in-flight. Turns out that 35,000 feet at the rear of a wide-body jet is the place to fully appreciate these things!

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These headphones are noise canceling, not sound canceling, so you can still hear announcements, and most of the time carry on conversation, but the most annoying aspects of normal cabin noise more or less vanish. This is a case of genius on two levels. First of all, someone had to think of the fact that business travelers would kill for really nice, high quality noise canceling headphones. Second, someone had to actually pull off the technology of noise canceling headphones and package them in a great form factor. Mission accomplished.

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Now a bit of personal bias. I have significant hearing loss in both ears, and I tend to hear most sounds somewhat poorly, especially midrange sounds where conversations take place. But a weird side effect of my hearing condition is that there are some sound frequencies that I actually hear more acutely than most people. Naturally these are high, shrill pitches, just like… um… the ones that pound you incessantly on airplanes!

Prior to this point in my life I had done a ton of business travel, and my experience with airplanes was that I had two options: 1) Use earplugs. Several problems. If you jam them in far enough to really block the sound, you arrive at your destination with a sore ear canal. When they’re in, you can’t hear the flight attendant when it’s time to select your meal, and you can’t carry on normal conversations with your travel companions. Of course, that can be a blessing or a curse, but that’s another topic. Finally you’re stuck if you want to watch the in-flight movie. 2) Do nothing and arrive at your destination with a throbbing headache. I had played it both ways, and neither was fully satisfying. But I generally erred toward the earplugs as the lesser of two evils.

That brings us to the cross-country flight in which David put the headphones on me, asked me if I was ready, and then threw the switch. Absolutely amazing. Seemed like 80-90% or more of the ambient noise (especially the most irritating frequencies) just vanished. Regular sound was reduced, but still audible. Plus the headphones were incredibly comfortable. From that moment my only question was how I would beg, borrow or steal a pair for myself. By my next trip, I had managed to acquire my own pair, and air travel has never been the same since.

Now, the second brilliant aspect: they double as super high quality music headphones. So take yourself back to the last time you tried to watch a movie on an airplane with the sound system on the plane (especially the now-antiquated air-driven headphones). In order to get past the background noise, you wind up cranking the volume, pounding your ear drums, and contributing to the arrival headache, not to mention contributing to permanent hearing loss. The Bose headphones simultaneously cut the background noise and provide an amazingly clear sound, so you can listen to the movie, the music or whatever, at normal volume. Just amazing.

Last touch of class: inside the case is a business card slot containing a set of courtesy cards. On the back, the card reads, “Our customers tell us they are often asked about their Bose QuietComfort 2 Acoustic Noise Cancelling headphones. For your convenience, we are providing this handy courtesy card for you to pass along.” Contact information follows. That’s confidence! And yes, I’ve given them out on airplanes…

Retail Price: $299.00. Worth every cent.