Category: Opinion

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Opinion Tech

Standardization vs Variability in a Program – Choose Variability

From the time we are born, we are taught to conform, from language to religion to traditions.

One of the first intentions I see in fellow program managers is a desire to enforce a standard across teams within a program. A standard is desired in the interest of predictability but also in the interest of uniformity. How important is it to be uniform?

While it is key to align on values and fundamentals (or even working agreements), it is also important to encourage deviations. Unless a rule is broken, it cannot be improved upon.

For example: to be an agilist, your values must agree with the Agile Manifesto, that says we value => individuals/interactions over process and tools, working software over documentation, customer collaboration over contracts, responding to change over following a plan (in my life all plans have tragically failed me, no wonder I am an agilist!)

Once the core values align, a standard enforced on a program consisting of disparate teams can be indicative of command and control.

Burden of a program manager is to visualize the flow of information across boundaries and do so in a believable, transparent manner that brings all those disparate teams together as one whole.

Enforcing a standard can feel like adding value to the story a program manager must tell of one program no matter the differences within.

Encourage good behavior via inspiration instead of a stick to make teams conform to your way. Trust me, it is your way even if it is right. We are all different. When we do the same task, we differ from one another. That is what makes a person unique.

If all the people in the world dressed alike, life would be boring. If all the people in the world responded to success and grief in exactly the same way, sure life would be predictable, but it may also be stagnant and monotonous.

In our differences lie our fascination and deference for each other. Encourage the teams under you to break from the norms and experience autonomy.

Ask yourself one question, do you want your teams to follow and do things when asked to do? Or do you wish them to self-organize, self-manage and propose new ideas to improve the program?

And finally, I will refer to Simon Sinek’s “Together is Better.” Would you like to be the king of a playground others fear to play in and try to conform to the rules? Or would you rather your teams play fearless to use their imagination to come up with better games, better ideas than before?  If the answer is second, it is important to go easy with trying to enforce one behavior from all and encourage differences. Because we are different.

Originally posted on my website: https://bookofdreams.us

Categories
Childrens moral non-fiction Opinion

Amplify the Chatter of Birds

“Seventy-Five,” said my son as my head tilted up in pride.

The journey to seventy-five was not linear. Eight years ago he was born. Any one that held him exclaimed, “He is so tiny.”

He was tiny, weighing a meager five-pounds, eight-ounces, having barely crossed the underweight threshold of newborns, his size presented a contrast to the whirlwind of energy he gyrated in, storming into busy streets, pounding his legs in a constant bounce, the invisible strings under his legs, a permanent dimension of his personality.

That was Sahir. Six years later, when Sahir held his little brother, mesmerized, speechless, admiring Mir, that was the longest he had sat still. His reasons for not moving needed to be grand. That was quite unlike his tearful welcome to his sister, born three years before Mir. Crocodile tears were not of joy but of heartbreak of having been left alone so we could get Dua, the reason for all his misery.

Seventy-Five was not a score on a school exam. It was better than any lesson I could have taught him in the confines of a book or a classroom.

When I learnt I was pregnant for the very first time, as I and my husband stared at the test, I envisioned what lessons I could teach my child that would equip “it” to face the world with dignity. I guess the seed for “Seventy-Five” must have planted then.

So, this morning as I placed the call to the local gym bowing to the ferocity of my laziness to cancel, I knew I was going to miss working out (the only healthy act of the week) on one condition, and that was to invest the sunlight of a warm Chicago Spring day in the confines of nature.

So, here we were, hiking along Fox River, on a hill over numerous islands in the river as Dua hopped like a bunny on my right, behind me Mir sat like a king on his stroller pushed by his dad, and Sahir played with my left hand when I came up with a game of silence.

The game was to stay silent and ward off all noises, the occasional cries from Mir, the tick of the stroller wheel against the hard concrete, the swish of the fast bikers overtaking us, or the whir from the factory we passed along the way across from the river. We were to focus on but one sound, the chirps of birds and really hear the chirps, how different they were from each other, their pitch, was it a cry for help or a song of joy.

I explained my game to them with one thought, “Ah, they are but an eight-year-old and soon-to-be, five-year-old. Let us see how far this goes.”

At first, it was hard not to discuss the sounds that were now reaching our ears. Soon, seconds melted into minutes. A heavenly tranquility transcended into our hearts and minds and my kids, miraculously, played along.

As our happy hike breathed its last whispers, we started to notice the multi-colored, yellow, orange, birds that were making the sounds. When we reached our mini-van parked right next to the shimmering waters of the Fox River, I asked them, “So, how many sounds did you hear?”

Dua said, maybe, five, and an, “I don’t know,” despite the fact that she was the most serious “silence observer.”

Sahir thought a moment and said, “Seventy Five.”

He made my day. I needed to train their minds to hear these little treasures of nature most ignore. I needed them to stop and stare at the river flowing underneath the hill we were on. And, I remembered Sahir, the little peanut, always skinny and tall, jumping around like there was no tomorrow, pausing to not dilute the noise of birds by the chatter of every other noise. He practiced amplifying the chatter of birds this evening and for that I will always be grateful.

Categories
Opinion Tech

Key Lessons for New Leaders/Managers

The biggest worry I had as a software engineer was my work, my accountability and the quality of what I delivered. Stepping into management, however, changed that dynamic as now I was responsible for other people’s work, accountability and quality. We all have different inspirations that propel us to deliver more and better. What worked for me may not work for another.

Key lessons I have learnt when in a leadership role are:

  1. Know when to disconnect
    Leaders coach. They impart lessons they have learned so others can exceed and develop into leaders. However, it is key to let others make mistakes and learn from their mistakes even if you knew how to not make the same mistake. It is important to learn to not own other people’s mistakes and that is incredibly hard to do.First response when a leader recognizes someone is making a mistake is to do everything in your power to not let them make the same mistake. While, it is correct for the leader to coach another person or team but once you have advised them, it is KEY to take a step back and not own what they ultimately do. Because if they choose to ignore the advice and do it their way and fail, they own the decision, the failure and the resilience to get up after the fall. That is key in building teams that are self-managing and self-organizing.
  2. Know the difference between enabling teams to self-manage and lack of leadership
    I had a fast-learner peer. They learned that delegating responsibilities is a good thing, it enables self-managing teams. However, while delegating, it is key to know the skillset of the person asked to perform a role. Do they have the desire or the knowledge to do justice to what they are asked to do? For example, delegating a meeting facilitation is no big deal. But if you are delegating a techie to write requirements when they have not had the training or the exposure to it being done can be disastrous without guidance.Delegation does not take the place of leadership that gives clear direction on what is required from a team and when. Once the clear direction is in place, the team can pivot and make things better. However, when the direction is missing and you ask a disparate set of individuals to make key decisions, result is same as “too many cooks in the kitchen spoil the stew.”
  3. Team is bigger than a set of high-performing individuals
    Have you ever witnessed a sports team consisting of world MVP (Most Valuable Players) lose badly? Far more important than rising stars is the chemistry of a team in how it performs together – do they have each other’s back? Are they inspired by each other or are trying to tear each other down in an effort to get ahead? Because teamwork, passing the ball at the right time, thinking about the team winning above yourself winning, are traits that rise or doom a team and when in a leadership position, it is important to value a team over a set of individuals, some performing better than others.
  4. Embellish or not to embellish
    Having attended countless Team Reviews (in Sprint Reviews or Demos) I have seen countless examples of teams embellishing themselves – look at our throughput, look at our automation.
    But just like offering extra praise to a toddler actually results in the toddler throwing a tantrum next time when the praise does not come through, it is important to stick to facts even when facts are less than flattering, even when the team is slipping and faltering. Because unless you shed light on the pitfalls, it will be hard to improve and shed light on the relentless improvements. So, refrain from embellishing is what experience has taught me.

All in all, becoming leaders involves caring a lot and letting go at the same time, a paradox very difficult to master. It is in knowing when to intervene and when to take a step back. It is in not fearing mistakes and failures and allowing its place in the team and in the organization.

Categories
non-fiction Opinion Tech Uncategorized

We want someone else in the city.

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Put on your best clothes, check. Speed to the station, check. Pay parking ticket, check. Stand behind the yellow line, check. Take the train, check. Step out of the train along with countless bobbing heads, all walking fast, almost speeding with you like competitive eight-year-olds, check. Behold numerous larger-than-life billboards inside buildings, some reckoning you to move to warm Arizona, but all making you feel like someone important (just like a super hero), check.

About a decade ago, I worked in the city. Since then, I found a job in the suburbs as my family grew. A training course propelled me to take the train to the city for three days in February of this year. I went as a tourist, as an outsider.

In the decade of departure from the city, I had forgotten the energy that flourished in the city, the young that made even the middle-aged people like me, feel important, if only along the neck-to-neck walk with them.

The bustling cafes, the trendy clothes…ah, the list goes on.

My past years witnessed my ex-company relocate to the city. I  heard of numerous others embarking on the same journey. Why?

When I had questioned my previous employer why, they said they wanted to tap into the younger, bustling crowd, go where the momentum was.

In that reasoning to move to the city, I was also hearing, I was aging. They wanted the fresh folks, just graduated with new ideas. When did experience become underrated? Hint, salaries. Why bother gaining experience when (relatively) cheaper labor can be readily available?

Are there no old people in the city? Sure, there are. They may live there. They may well commute there. They may be valued. But for the vast majority of my peers with little children moving with a company to downtown meant sacrificing family life and not seeing daylight at home.

The company probably was more interesting in my budding children than me.

This is the harsh reality for the tech industry. I wish I knew the exact formula for success past forty, as I have yet to reach that milestone as fast as it is approaching, but bubbling in the hustle of downtown Chicago, observing the fresh new faces, their confidence, I also wondered if merely moving the location of a company was a guarantee of a company’s success.

Because a great company should value talent, regardless of geography or age or gender or color. And when large corporations make such decisions to aim for profit at the cost of signaling the lack of value of employees’ personal lives or experience, it is a two-way street. They too lose in key fundamentals that make a place worth working for, period.

I spent the three days in city savoring the delectable food in the restaurants, staring out the train window listening to blasting music. But the most cherished part of my day remained coming back to a loving home. For companies can move where they wish and can be replaced but the truly irreplaceable parts of my life were taken care of. I enjoyed the oomph of the city and was afresh proud of my decision to remain close to family, so I could take pride in my work as a professional and as a mother at the same time. Downtown Chicago can continue to bubble with energy, and I with love. Maybe, some day when my kids have grown up, and I have more of “me” time in the day, a startup that distinguishes not between old and young, and only sees talent, will reckon me to check all the checks and take the train to the city and feel young again.

Until then…here is to another day, and another week in suburban Chicago.

Categories
non-fiction Opinion Travel

What I Love the Most About Jamaica?

I carry a million pieces inside my heart of the faces I have seen, the sights I have absorbed, and the lessons I have carried. For a vacation destination, I pick new places to add to the over-brimming chest of treasured memories instead of returning to the same place each time.

And yet, here I am, along the sandy beaches, the bamboo trees of Jamaica eating at the same restaurants, staying in the same resort, climbing the same waterfalls. But why?

I realized the reason why today when I and my oldest were battling the thundering, slamming onslaught of Dunns river, climbing atop slippery boulders.  My nervousness stemmed from two reasons. One, my husband and I had to split. So, it was just me and Sahir. Second, he was an eight-year old I fiercely protected and just taking care of myself was a task as I am not athletic, never had been and the source of all my adventures stemmed out of companionship with my husband and without him, I was unsure of my sure-footedness.

So here we were. Dunns river had made its way to the beach. The cool water blasted itself into the Caribbean Sea, it came smashing down boulders as tall as four feet. Sahir and I started.

I glanced back at Ali who was taking care of my little two. I followed Sahir but ten feet in, the water roared in maddening fury, it rumbled in trembling seizures, and the water threatened to release the grip of my trembling feet along an almost vertical climb of the falls. Sahir whimpered. I whimpered. I glanced back. Sliding down the falls was not an option and going above made me want to cry.

At that instance, a set of sure hands reached for Sahir. Two girls (teenagers) held him as I mouthed a thank you. Suddenly I realized, taking care of Sahir was not a problem any more. He had already brisked away good fifteen feet from me. The problem was me. I hollered from behind and asked the locals to wait for me. I would never catch up, I was sure of myself.

Another set of hands, grabbed my hand and took me along. They did not leave our sides the whole journey, lifting Sahir in pools more than three feet deep. Some of them did not know each other, but they formed a chain with me and my son, and I knew then why I crave Jamaica anew each year as though it was a whole new destination.

Sure, Jamaica has the beaches and all-inclusive heavenly retreats. But that is not why.

Sure, Jamaica has the green, calm rivers amongst its lush green mountains. But that is not why.

I return to Jamaica because of its people. Midway, we stooped to carve our names at the river bottom, on stones. One girl wrote, Tori 2018. A boy wrote, Gary. Sahir wrote his name. Tori smiled and said, “Next time you come, look for your name.”

I smiled.

I was here seven years ago when I had climbed the Dunns River Falls with Sahir, an eight-month-old infant and all I had to fend for was me. And, here we were seven years later. Maybe, in seven years we will return to find Sahir’s name who visited Jamaica as an infant, now as an elementary-school-aged kid, and who knows in the future as a teenager.

I love Jamaica for its people, for its laid-back culture, for people idling on the street, for children wearing blue school uniforms walking from the school in the evening, for colorful hats, for simplicity known to so few. The place has endured and yet, if you peek into the eyes of any of the locals you sense true happiness. Back in our car, in the parking lot of the falls, a family opened champagne and cut a birthday cake atop the trunk of their car. They lacked the fancy-themed birthday parties, the luxuries people in the west get accustomed to. The broken shacks along my window on the ride back showed the brunt of countless hurricanes, and the endurance and perseverance of the people who hold stranger’s hands assisting them through the falls unconditionally. I lack a photo with them or the knowledge of their names or their lives or their tribulations, but I will carry them in my overloaded heart and pray they keep their joyful, giving spirit intact through the long, meandering journey of life.

Ya Mon, Jamaica!

Categories
non-fiction Opinion

Innovation Begins at Birth

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Observing my toddler bypass English words, I try to teach him and use gibberish instead to explain himself made me pause and think. My gibberish is his meaning. It is not him, it is me.

Like religion, language too is assimilated owing to the environment babies are born into. They pick up and learn the traditions even though we are all born without a religion, without man-made traditions but not without brains. A human brain is well-developed compared to other animals at the time of birth. Babies love from birth. They cry when they are hungry. They recognize mother’s voice and smell. But it is the peripheral inheritances such as religion as well as language they adjust to.

We must teach the little guys the ways of our world. Sure. I wonder though how did the aboriginals conform. Information channel should not be one sided, from adults to children. I feel children, even babies, have a lot to teach the adults.

And, number one lesson I have matured to accept is that children should be given the freedom to innovate and change things from an early age. They are tiny in physique, but they should be given the same respect we give adults to make decisions because their perspective is fresh, stems out of curiosity untainted by the ways of world we as adults grow to accept and conform to.

For innovation, we must be free and unafraid to question. And, children growing up innovating as kids will continue to innovate as adults, and that is a key to a healthy society.

I will thank my youngest for the lesson he taught me. I will forever endeavor to keep my mind open to other lessons he has instore for me.

Categories
non-fiction Opinion

Another Year is Coming to an End

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An end of a year is a paradox. To celebrate a new year, one must say goodbye to the one left behind. In each year we gain and we lose making it an emotional affair. As the world newspapers begin to count the deaths and the notable births, the gaffes and the wins, individuals walking down a street are doing a similar exercise inside their minds. Here is my tally of how I did that I can openly share with the world!

Pluses

A sister and a reunion
My brother got married, its side effect was a sweet addition to our family and a get together of cousins, nephews and nieces and aunts and uncles. The experience provided a firm grounding.

Glaciers, Mountains, and Mocha Brava
Under the towering mountains of Alaska while we searched for wild life (and the meaning of our lives!) beholding giant glaciers, daily we drove through cute huts serving endless espresso and Mocha Brava treats. We gained the Alaskan experience in 2017.

Books
While I am behind in my general reading for pleasure this year, I did write two+ books, I submitted one and got rejected.

MINUSES

Three Notable Rejections
I received three rejections to one book in 2017. I am rewriting it based on one good feedback I got from one of the rejections. I am not giving up, not yet.

Net neutral

  1. My eldest kid lost five teeth, and five new ones grew back up!
  2. We celebrated five more birthdays and said goodbye to one more year of our lives but kept the experience gained from the spent year!
  3. My relationship ended with one employer and a new one took its place.

The beauty of a “New Year” is to let go the negative, start over when you fall, and embrace the goodness of life year in and year out. Happy New Year to you and tell me what your pluses and minuses and net neutrals are for 2017!

 

 

Categories
non-fiction Opinion Tech

I Will Not Undersell Myself Anymore

I have the luxury of working in the tech industry. Because of that, I am proud of breaking the stereotype that engineering cannot be for girls. I code. And, no matter where I am at in my career, I will always be that girl who started her career coding.

One thing, I as an Asian techie professional have grown to accept is a lesson I wish to pass to all alike regardless of gender, race, or origin is to  lean in.

When I became a mother, it is true I had to walk past some opportunities. It is true when opportunities came my way, I wondered if I would be able to do justice to the opportunity because being a good and available mother was important to me. Today when those thoughts enter my mind, I scold myself.

This process is called underselling yourself.

When you are capable and you let go of these opportunities and settle for less, frustration builds in when you feel you could do more with your career. Frustration also hurts when others in position you passed are less experienced and potentially less capable but they stood up for themselves. And, you ask yourself did you undersell yourself? Let go the fear, my friend, and embrace your capabilities freely.

I have learnt to not undersell myself because frustration is more costly than the work life balance we all have to do, singles, couples, and parents. Work life is not my issue alone. The world is engaged in that affair. And if they can, I sure can too no matter my background.

So, I say to me fellow women and men professionals alike, do not undersell yourself. Reach for the stars.

Categories
non-fiction Opinion

Why I Decorate a Christmas Tree Every Year?

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I am not religious, and I am not Christian by faith. If you ask me specifics about any religion, I will meet your glance with a blank stare.

But each year, I decorate a Christmas tree.

Here is why.

Happiness.

Of all the strife in this world, decorating the tree is a happy moment. It breaks everything else that has been said and done the days before. No other act compares to decorating a tree for the sake of decorating a tree.

Togetherness

It is an activity that we all do together, the kids and the adults – making the journey from a bare tree to multi-colored piece of work.

Brightens every day

Once lit, it brightens your area every day, like a steady source of light.

A tree is lit in our living room, and it will brighten our days for a month I suspect after which a void will stand where it once stood but only until another Christmas, another end of a year when it will reappear.

 

Categories
non-fiction Opinion

The Distracted Human

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The plane screeched to a dusty halt. I rubbed my puffy eyes. I had survived my first flight ever, one that lasted over twenty-four hours with a stop in Bucharest over Air Tarim, Romanian Airline back in 1998. My cheeks remained moist from the heartfelt goodbyes I had exchanged with my lifelong friends from school.

I was a school-goer no more as I stepped foot in the crowded JFK terminal onto the waving hands of my father. In my handbag, I held tear-stained letters I wrote to all I had left behind.

My first important chore upon reaching my uncle’s home was to mail those letters out.

A week later, my father and I drove to St Louis, and I started my first gig in America – an undergraduate student of Computer Science.

It took me another week to buy an international calling card. On that day, a dense foggy Saturday, I slipped out of the back door of my apartment crumpling under the chill of Midwestern August (coming from the burning Indian summers,) I cautiously walked in between rows of cougar lake apartments on campus with all students sound asleep and only a hint of a bird chirp in the air.

I reached a payphone, entered my pin, and let my heart hammer inside my chest. Across the globe, my childhood friend picked up and responded to my hello with a hello.

I choked to complete the conversation.

A week later, I received my first letter, my trembling hands opened and cheek-drenching tears welcomed.

I was old-fashioned back then, still untainted by emails. I am old-fashioned today living in the same world somehow transformed away from the hand-written notes traveling at 35,000 feet across to electronically transmitted binary code messages over the internet lacking the gratification of the two-week long wait. Communicating has become that easy.

With easy, come the blue-glow-lit faces, talking to each other through their phones even when it is just a table that separates them in a restaurant, they smile through the cloud on which they are texting each other from.

The new human is distracted by the phone. And, the old human in me, can’t forget the joy of ink spilling into a blank sheet of paper that took several hands to make it to the loved one.

That is the paradox of life – where we are and where we used to be and what distractions we allow to tear us apart from our reality.

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