Teriyaki With My Daughter

I accompanied my oldest daughter, Luca, to an open house for students who joined orchestra. She met her instructor and fellow students, but was most excited to see her friend, Taylor. Beginning next Tuesday she will board a bus bound for the middle school where she will learn to play the cello.

Not long ago she would have pulled her chair right up next to mine and sat as close to me as possible. But tonight I was there to take notes and find out when the bus would pick her up. Yes, she reminded me of that as we drove to the school.

Her best friend, who will also play the cello, was there to provide any support she needed. Sometimes I forget that she’s ten years old, not five. She’s making her own friends and forming opinions. She asks me as many questions as I ask her. It’s a two-way street.

I’m thrilled and proud to see her grow into a young woman. But there’s a part of me that yearns for the days when I was the center of her universe. My influence that was once great has been greatly diminished, and there are times when I feel she’d rather hang out with anyone but me.

After taking plenty of notes, we left the school and headed to our favorite teriyaki joint. It’s one of those anonymous holes-in-the-wall where it appears one person is doing the work of four. An older gentleman with limited English skills took our order while filling glasses with ice water and speaking on the phone.

We retreated to a booth to wait for our food.

“What is the best age for a person to get their first cell phone?” Luca asked.

“I don’t know. What do you think?” I replied.

“Maybe a few months before their 11th birthday.”

“Wouldn’t that be right around Christmas for you?”

“Exactly.”

It’s not the growing up part that concerns me. I mean, that’s how life works. It’s the fact that each day my influence on her is less pronounced. Which in many ways, it a good thing because I’m certain my influence hasn’t always been a positive. I hope the good has outweighed the bad because there’s not a lot of time left for major changes.

As we finished our meal, I sat across the table and smiled as she used my iPhone to send text messages. Such moments without the distractions of siblings are rare, and they seldom last more than a few minutes.

A couple of fortune cookies arrived with our check. Luca cracked open her cookie and read her fortune.

“Dad, what does yours say?”

I unfolded my fortune, and read it to myself. Then I folded it back up, and placed it in my wallet.

“It says eighteen is the ideal age for your first cell phone.”

Dell Discovers Metro

I’m a couple of days into running Windows 8 developer preview now, and the Metro UI is growing on me. The tiles are interesting. I see them as an extension to the current desktop gadgets only smarter. The ability to pull down live weather reports, Facebook status updates, and sports scores is useful.

What if Microsoft made it simple for me to create my own tiles? Maybe they will.

But then I began thinking that if this real estate is valuable to users, imagine how valuable it must be to Microsoft’s real Windows 8 customers: the OEMs like Dell, Samsung, Toshiba and Sony.

This is how I imagine the Start screen from Dell’s first batch of Windows 8 PCs will look like.

Yep, it’s more crapware, but its dynamic and smart crapware.

Windows 8 First Thoughts

One of the best things about Twitter is the community that comes together for events. A good example of this was today’s Microsoft Built Conference where Windows 8 was unveiled to developers and those following the live stream around the world.

Three years I ago I owned a Windows PC and a Windows Mobile phone. The bulk of my hardware upgrade dollars went to Intel and most of my software purchases lined Microsoft’s pockets.

Today, my family owns two iPhones, half a dozen iPods, and two iPads. I haven’t upgraded my PC in a few years because I’ve migrated probably 40% of my computing time to Apple products. Tasks like email and reading my RSS feeds are done nearly exclusively on my iPhone or iPad. I watch videos, play games, and Facetime with my parents on my iPad. When I need to write a blog post or an email that’s more than a few sentences, I still prefer my PC.

When I think about it, the most important task my PC does is charge my Apple devices and sync them with iTunes.

Should Microsoft be worried about someone like me?

Maybe. But they should be scared to death that my four children are growing up without any need for Microsoft products. They’d rather play games on the iPod Touch or the iPad. My spouse, who had never touched an Apple product until three years ago, is hooked on her iPad and iPhone. She spends far less time on her PC than I do, and has been clamoring for an iMac or MacBook Pro for a year.

I still rely on a handful of products that work best on a Windows PC, and I enjoy selecting the components that go into my Lian-Li case. But the rest of my family has no such loyalty and specs don’t matter as much to me anymore. I just want stuff to work.

I wouldn’t be surprised if we spend more money in a month at Apple’s App Store than we’ve spent on Microsoft products in the past two years. That should be enough to get Microsoft’s attention because I’m sure there are thousands of families like mine who are in considering a switch.

This brings me back to today’s Build Conference where I was interested to see if Microsoft would showcase innovative features in Windows 8 that might keep a PC hanging around our home for a few more years.

With Windows 8 about a year away, according to rumors, my family will continue to frequent the Apps Store, further entrenching us into the Apple ecosystem. There’s no doubt that Windows 8 will be a hit on desktop PCs. Even the troubled Windows Vista sold hundreds of millions because Microsoft is still the dominant desktop OS.

But I’m not sure if Windows 8 on a tablet created by an OEM puts Microsoft on par with the iPad. A PC typically sits on or under a desk where build quality isn’t always apparent. But a tablet rests in your hands while you use it. How it feels to you is important, and the iPad feels sexy and oozes quality. Maybe Sony can pull of something comparable, but I don’t believe the likes of Samsung, HTC, or Dell have a clue how to design anything close to the iPad. If they can’t make a PC or a phone I’d want to buy today what makes me think they can design a tablet in the future?

For that reason, my early Windows 8 prediction is that it receives a warm welcome from consumer and business desktops when it ships next year. But with the iPad 3 launching shortly, I believe Microsoft will have as difficult a time competing with the iPad as they are currently having with Windows Phone 7 failing to curtail iPhone momentum.

And one suggestion for Sinofsky and his team: PICK 5 Features That Demo Well.

The guy who showed the quick boot times was fantastic. He dove deep into his feature and showed quick boot times on a myriad of devices. But the first woman on stage was such a disaster that Sinofsky had to repeatedly correct her or add to her confusing descriptions. I can’t recall a single feature she mentioned. Five killer features beat twenty lackluster features any time, and especially in a demo presentation.

I’m interested to test Windows 8 on my own PC. I’ve got it running in a virtual machine, and will follow up with my impressions once I spend more time with it. As much as I enjoy my Apple products, I want to see Microsoft compete hard with them. It’s good for consumers and our wallets if we have a choice among great products.

This is your new desktop, the first thing you see when logging into Windows 8

Of course, I had to see what all the fuss was about with Windows Explorer

The new Task Manager. even the charts got the Metro treatment

The Paper Trail

At my last job had to fill out a mountain of paperwork in order to give an employee a raise. Although I worked for a company that touted itself as a leader in technology solutions, everything was transferred from person to person on paper.

I created stacks of paperwork that was sent to our corporate offices. There, it would be reviewed, and passed on to another division. As you can imagine, many times the paperwork was lost in transit, and the entire process would start from the beginning.

The most confusing part of the process was how I had to transfer numbers from one sheet of paper to another. In fact, I had to do it twice. But one sheet of paper had to be pink and the other sheet had to be blue. It was the same information on both sheets, but those were the rules.

More than once, I tried submitting a raise (or “market adjustment” because nobody knew what that meant so nobody questioned it) on plain white paper, and it was rejected. A call would go out from corporate to my boss reminding him that I wasn’t playing by the rules. He’s toss the incorrectly colored papers on my desk, and I’d start from scratch.

After a few years of trying to buck the system, I decided to call corporate payroll and ask they needed the same information on two sheets of differing color paper. The answer still makes me laugh today.

“Because that way anyone can open the mail and sort it into the correct piles. Pink goes in one pile and blue goes in another.”

Brilliant!

Selling Your Soul

“Is it more important how much money you make or how you make it?”

That was the question posed by my 8th grade history teacher. After an awkward pause, a student chimed in that the amount of money was most important.

“Drug dealers make a lot money”, the teacher shot back.

He didn’t need to explain. We all understood his point that how one made a living is as important, if not more, than how much one earns.

I thought back to this exchange while I had lunch with a friend today. Both of us are close in age and about halfway through our careers, most of which has been in technology. We both have young families, and spouses who have put careers on hold to raise young children.

He asked me what direction I planned to take my job search. I asked him what he’d do if his company kicked him to the curb. Neither of us had an answer, but I suspect the days of selling our souls to a big company are over.

When I moved to Seattle in 1994 there was a buzz in the air. The internet was set to take off, and a new version of Windows was around the corner. Netscape was about to become a household name and kick off the dot com era. Microsoft had replaced with the carrot with stock options and was dangling them in the face of anyone who could help them crush the upstarts.

With Boeing locked in labor issues, Microsoft and Amazon were seen as saviors. Thousands of small companies sprung up to ride the internet wake. And if that didn’t work, ride the coattails of these two titan of tech. I worked for one company that partnered with Microsoft, and two that didn’t. Guess which company is still in business?

Jobs were plentiful. So plentiful that I never really had to look for a job because the job would find me. One recruiter took me to lunch to sell me on an opportunity. He asked if I had a resume, and I shrugged, “Why?”

When nearly every company is hiring and wages are high, it’s rare that one considers the flip side which is what’s happening today. Microsoft has laid-off over 5000 employees over the past couple of years. Sure, they have hired back some of those, but many more have left on their own before being forced out. In the mid 90’s Microsoft was the place to work in Seattle. Now it’s just another big company “optimizing itself for shareholder value”.

This brings me to the question posed by my history teacher.

One of my jobs at Microsoft was to share information about the direction of our software with partners who directly increased sales of our products. It wasn’t always easy to determine who was selling for our against us. But I had information they needed to innovate and stay out ahead of us. Those companies that received the information lived to do business another day. But many of those that didn’t were crushed by our next release.

If the two ends of the spectrum were drug dealer and school teacher, I have little doubt which I was closer to. And yet, part of me feels relieved that I worked for a large company who cared enough to at least save their friends, or at least friends who increased revenues.

By starting my own company, I’ve inched my way towards the middle of the spectrum. It may take a few more years before all that corporate greed and grime is out of my system. I love not having a boss who tells me to “remove the human element” from the decision and do what’s best for the shareholders, as if the two are mutually exclusive.

I wish jobs were as easy to find as the last time I was searching. They are harder to come by today, but that’s given me time to consider what I stand for and how I intend to support my family for the second half my career.

I don’t know what the future holds, but I know my focus will more on the how and less on the how much.

Better Than Words

“That was a looooong day! I thought it would never end.”

That was Anna’s reply to my question about how her first day at school went. So when I unlocked the car door and watched her place her backpack on the seat as slowly as possible, I knew she didn’t expect anything different for day two.

She didn’t say a word as we made our way to Luca’s bus stop. I wonder what Anna must think when she sees that Luca can’t wait to get to class.

On the return trip, and with her older school-loving sister gone, I hoped Anna would talk to me. But when I looked in the rearview mirror, all I could see were two knees pulled up into her chest. Her head faced the window.

Part of me wanted to tell her that her teacher will be happy to see her. Or that she’ll see familiar faces and make new friends this year. But I know Anna, and I know this tactic will backfire. She’ll curl up into a tighter ball where all I can see are the blue soles of her tennis shoes.

We were a few minutes early so I pulled around the corner from her bus stop and into our driveway.

“I need to say goodbye to mom.”

And with those words, she jumped out of the car and ran up the stairs to mom. I decided to stay in the car. The thought of dragging my teary-eyed daughter into class crossed my mind. What will mom tell her that I couldn’t?

Minutes later, Anna ran back down the stairs and got back in the car.

“Did you tell mom goodbye?”

“Yep, and she gave me a hug.”

I guess words were not what she needed to hear.

Searching for Tortillas

“The time is now 10:50 PM. Fred Meyer will be closing in ten minutes. Please make your way towards one of our checkout stands.”

I heard the woman’s polite sounding voice come over the intercom, but I still had one item on my list, and I wasn’t leaving till I found it: low carb tortillas.

I had no idea how elusive those dang low carb tortillas would be.

Fred Meyer is my preferred grocery store. Not that I believe it’s any better than the Albertson’s or Safeway, each of which are located a few blocks away. No, the reason I shop at Fred Meyer is because I know my way around. I can walk right to the 1% milk, applesauce, and string cheese. And, with a little thought, I’m likely to locate the jars of jet-puffed marshmallow.

“The time is now 10:55 PM. Fred Meyer will be closing in five minutes. Please bring your groceries to one of our open checkout stands.”

Normally there’s a massive shelf full of tortillas near the back of the store, not far from the meat section. I checked there first and had no luck. I made my way over the Mexican food section, but only found boxes of hard shell tortillas. Why is Fred Meyer playing musical chairs with the soft tortillas?

As I wandered past the the magazine stand I was immediately distracted. A few minutes spent browsing through exotic cars and cameras I can’t afford is time well spent. I space out, imagine I won the lottery, and enjoy the moment until I realize I’m wandering Fred Meyer in my workout clothes.

What I need is an iPhone app that, with the guidance of GPS, shows me exactly where I can find items on my list. Stores would certainly nix this idea because they know a lost shopper is the best shopper. I’ll bet a third of the items in my cart tonight were added while searching for the tortillas.

As I made my way towards the next available checker, I walked past an end cap FULL OF TORTILLAS! I spent a few minutes taking it all in. I’d never noticed the tomato and basil ones before. I wonder if these ones made with spinach are any good? Aha! There’s the low carb ones on the top shelf.

And suddenly lights begin flickering off behind me. I stepped out into the middle aisle and didn’t see a soul. Dang, what time is it?

I begin making my way towards the front of the store. When I get there I still don’t see anyone except a woman standing behind the service counter. She looks at me, grabs the intercom, looks at me again and says, “Fred Meyer is closed. We’ll be open at 6 am tomorrow.”

I wanted to approach her and explain that it wasn’t my fault someone moved the tortillas.

I pulled out my iPhone and was shocked to see 11:10 pm glowing back at me. I was expecting the intercom lady to grab her mic again and announce, “Hey loser in the baggy shorts and basketball shoes, we closed ten minutes ago so take your game outside.”

At least once a year I read an article about about a senior citizen who spends the night in a Walmart after getting disoriented in the shower curtains, and nobody notices until morning.

I hope that’s not me in twenty years.

Too Many Questions

I didn’t begin to take school seriously until the 7th grade. Until then, I studied enough to keep my parents off my back. I could have completed the extra-credit assignment to raise my B+ to an A-, but I’d rather be playing Wiffle Ball with my friends.

By 7th grade I began to compare my grades to those of my friends. It helped that the local newspaper listed the names of those student who made the honor roll each quarter. So I moved the bar a little higher and did just enough to get my name in the paper. Within a quarter or two, I realized that, with a little studying, I could pull a 3.5 or 3.6. But going to a 3.9 or 4.0 was exponentially more difficult, and would mean less time to practice the Rubik’s Cube.

Seeing my name in the paper each quarter gave me confidence that was smart, and that carried over to the 8th grade. I consistently scored high marks in English and came to expect a high grade. It’s probably not a coincidence that some of my most memorable teachers taught English and the fact that I enjoyed learning about grammar, gerunds and even Shakespeare.

Feeling confident in my abilities, I began to ask questions. I wanted to understand why I was expected to structure my report in a specific manner or why a comma wasn’t appropriate in my writing. “Well, that’s just how it is.” was often the reply.

That didn’t sit well.

But I continued raising my hand and asking why. One afternoon, my 8th grade English teacher had had enough. After one of my questions she shot back, “I don’t know! Because those are the rules!”

She leaned over my desk as she shouted that non-answer, inches away from my face.

And that’s when I changed. Instead of sulking back into my chair, I shifted forward and said, “Why do I have to follow rules even you don’t understand?”

My fellow students gasped in horror. I don’t recall what happened next, but when report cards came out a few weeks later, I had earned an A- for my work, but an “unsatisfactory” for citizenship.

When I told a friend about my big “U”, he laughed and shared that the only other student he knew with a similar citizenship mark had been caught hiding a bottle of Jack Daniels in his locker. Apparently I was in good company. If my parents were concerned with my lapse in judgment, they didn’t show it when I handed them my report card.

With my kids heading back to school this week, I thought back to this experience and wondered how I’d react now that I’m a parent. Like my parents, I want my children to respect each of their teachers. They deserve it. But I also don’t want them to simply be sponges in a seat. If a rule doesn’t make sense, I hope they ask for clarification. I’m OK if they push back a bit as long as it’s done with respect.

I still ask a lot of questions, but tend to keep most to myself.

Friendship

I met up with a friend for lunch today who I’d not seen for at least six years. I worked for him when I first moved to Seattle in 1994 and later followed him to Microsoft.

We were both geeks stuck in a marketing group, but made up for our lack of marketing skills by understanding how the products worked. We’d fly around the world demoing our software when nobody else in the group could install it.

We laughed at the newly minted MBA hires who couldn’t figure out the convoluted Microsoft email and file system. In exchange for lunch or Sonics tickets we’d help them.

It doesn’t matter how many years have passed, we picked up right where we left off today. There’s no awkwardness because he knows me and I understand him. We remain friends because we’ve gone through a lot together. We’ve both seen each other at our best and worst.

Our lunch lasted two hours, but felt like 20 minutes. Of course he remembered that time we bribed our way out of a speeding ticket in Monte Carlo, since then we always drive around with a little something from Remotecarstarterhero.com to prevent such mishaps. Or the time I was in charge of renting a sporty car for our visit to Marina del Rey. When we pulled into the Ritz Carlton and the valet just shook his head while staring at my lime green Hyundai subcompact, it was the last time he asked me to book the car rental.

You know that type of friend who doesn’t keep score and doesn’t insist on splitting every meal down the center? I never quite trust the friend who keeps track of every good deed and penny.

I’ve come to realize friendships like this are uncommon, but they are worth nurturing.

Over lunch, I caught up on his family. He told me he’d probably never be able to work for a large company again. I told him I was beginning to feel the same.

I don’t know if our paths will cross again. There’s no guarantee they will. We shook hands before parting. Another six years could pass before we see each other.

I hope that’s not the case, but whenever we do, I know we’ll pickup from where we left off today.

Greatness

The thing about greatness is you know it when you see it.

In 1992 I watched the Utah Jazz beat the Chicago Bulls in triple overtime at the Delta Center in Salt Lake City. Michael Jordan had an off night. But he still scored 34 points and pulled down 13 rebounds before getting kicked out of the game for arguing a call during the second overtime.

For nearly four hours, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I watched his every move. The way he stretched before the game. How he interacted with his teammates, yet stared down the younger Jazz players. Even the way he runs the court is different.

Over 19,000 people filled the sold-out arena, and most of them were Jazz fans. But the thousands of camera flashes I saw that night were no doubt aimed at number 23. Outside of the playoffs, he’d be in Salt Lake only once a year.

I, like most everyone in attendance that night, cheered for the Jazz. But I was in awe of Jordan. I knew I was watching the best basketball player on the planet. The game itself was secondary. Although I didn’t know it at the time, it would be the only time I’d see him in person.

The felt the same way when I watched Tracy Chapman sing Talkin About a Revolution at Benaroya Hall in Seattle. Gives me chills thinking back to that day nearly 12 years ago. Tracy took the stage wearing a black jacket and matching jeans. Even the guitar slung over her should was black.

I didn’t take my eyes off her for over two hours, because I knew I was watching and listening to greatness and I didn’t want to miss a single note.

As it was watching Jordan, I knew I’d probably never experience anything similar in person in my lifetime again, and I haven’t.

Although I’ve never seen Steve Jobs in person, I’ve watched him introduce dozens of new Apple products in a manner unlike anyone else.

I’d never owned a single Apple product until October of 2005 when the fifth general iPod was released. Because of Jobs, I had to have it. He described it as if it were a work of art. Something that should be behind glass, but instead fits in my pocket and holds my entire music library.

I worked at Microsoft in various positions for 10 years and listened to Bill Gates speak dozens of times. Yet, I never felt compelled to purchase anything he’s introduced because he said it was great. Gates always spoke to the OEM, partner or “information worker”. But Jobs spoke to me. His excitement about the iPod won me over. So at lunch on the day it was released, I plunked down $399 for the 60 gig model.

That first iPod purchase has lead to so many more I’ve lost count. My family has owned five iPhones and two iPads and there’s no doubt the three Windows PCs in our home will eventually be replaced with Apple products.

Jobs falls into the greatness category, and I have no doubt I’ll be telling my kids about him just as I’ll tell them about Jordan and Chapman.