Author: Merrill III

Scrum And The City

It spoke to me in a hushed, spiteful tone.

You suck!

I turned to face the source of such antagonistic mockery and made eye contact. From the same hole that was staring me down, it sneered a taunt from just out of reach, actively engaging in guerrilla warfare.

Welcome home, you jerk-faced low-life.

I was already feeling like crap, so this was the last thing I wanted upon dragging duffel bags filled with college text books up a couple of flights of stairs. Granted, it was one way to stay warm on a drizzly January afternoon. Granted, it was one way to fit in my daily work-out. Granted, it was a Sisyphusian reminder to ditch the dead tree I’ve dragged from home to home. Granted, it was –

Hey, you uncreative low-lifed jerk-face.

I had it – this was getting out of hand.

Yeah? Well whacha gonna do about it, punk?

I turned towards the fridge, knelt down, and stood back up, Cheerio in hand. I looked around the kitchen for a place to put it, preferably a container that loosely resembled a trash can. A rubbish bin. A garbage receptacle. An empty container of little-to-no value.

Like your soulless shell of a body, ya bum?

Again, I was already feeling like crap. I just came off a rough break-up, resulting in a desperate apartment hunt in mid-January, which is way off-season in this college town. I somehow found a place and threw wads of cash at the realtor to take it off the market. Now, everything of value to me was splayed across the kitchen floor in a haggered landscape of memories – all 5 taxi-loads. Except for the desk – I had a guy from Craig’s List help me with that. I had nothing to offer him besides the agreed upon amount, so we toasted with the one thing in my fridge: vodka.

You gonna offer me a shot, loser? Or are you just gonna continue projecting your inner monologue through a piece of cereal you picked off the floor of your filthy apartment?

The Cheerio was right. I was lonely. And physically spent. And emotionally spent. And in need of a trash can.

I thus started my single life in Boston – with a list. First item on that list: trash can. Defeated, I put my new and abusive friend back under the fridge.

Hey, if you like lists so much, why don’t you use that stupid Scrum certification to get your life in order, tough guy.

Again, the Cheerio was right.

What Are Days?

You ever notice that sudden plans are usually fun? For me, sure, what’s cool is the thing that is planned, but it’s equally neat how, like, 2 hours ago, this idea of a plan wasn’t out there, and then, all of the sudden, somebody came up with it and then it was acted upon.

Wham – you blink.

Bam – you enjoy.

If I could only remember that the days were not bricks to be laid row on row, to be build into a solid house, where one might dwell in safety and peace, but only food for the fires of the heart.
– Edmund Wilson, Critic and Writer (1895-1972)

This is my way of saying that this last Sprint, I’ve had an extraordinarily large number of emergent stories, and I’ve gone along with them. Dinner here. Movie there. Oscar-watching party somewhere around the corner. Sprint Goal nowhere close to being accomplished.

Yet – and I think that as you get older you become more OK with things like this – I’m more OK with things like this. I’m trying to remember that our days are indeed meant to be gut-level exciting.

I Am A Millionaire (And So Can You!)

Folks, it happened. I am a millionaire. After 10,000 hours, I’m popping tags like the silly can holders.

Or at least… I live like a millionaire. On the daily, I swan dive into a multi-storey vault of Dogecoin a la Scrooge McDuck. Luckily, such riches have afforded me the necessary thick skin and equally necessary metallic Beyonce bouyancy to not get all cut up by or drown in said vault of said coin. (I got 99 problems, but tetanus ain’t one. (Hit me!))

So after my morning swim, after shimmying the moon dust off my shoulders, I get on with my day. And my days are pretty ordinary, except for the ‘living like a millionaire’ part. My vast wealth of cryptocurrency stays in that vault because I don’t need it to live like a millionaire. I already know how without all that.

“What?” you say, “Are you gettin’ all cheesy on me?” Naw, Pepper Jack, this is something that recently hit me like a tonne of feathers with a brick in the middle.

Fill in this sentence for yourself:

I live like a millionaire when I…

Here, let me help you out – this is just some of what’s on my list. I live like a millionaire when I:

  • play Candy Crush when I go to the bathroom.
  • beatbox in the shower.
  • rack my brain around Chinese Checkers.
  • commandeer a public piano.
  • crack a bad joke.
  • watch and hear my wife’s reaction to said bad joke.
  • walk around holding my wife’s hand.
  • say ‘wife’ whenever I can ’cause it still sounds foreign.
  • blare ‘And You and I’ by Yes before getting married.
  • jam to ‘Burn’ by Ellie Goulding as I walk out of work.
  • bask in ‘Express Yourself’ by Charles Wright & the Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band just about any other time of day.
  • whistle my theme song.
  • sit at my throne desk.
  • hang out at a cafe.
  • drink a cappuccino.
  • go on a date with a buddy.
  • make up a silly story.
  • tell the story behind my watch.
  • tell the story behind my pen.
  • tell the story behind my wedding band.
  • tell the story behind the number four on clocks.
  • tell the story of how I work for Taco Bell as a motivational speaker.
  • tell this joke: Did you hear about the Scottish cross-dresser? He wore pants.
  • watch and hear your reaction to that joke.

Sure, if I had some loose Hamiltons I’d build a community music studio and start a hovercraft polo league, but I’d also continue to do the above already awesome things. And of course, how I live like a millionaire will differ from how you live like a millionaire.

How do you live like a millionaire?

How can you live like a millionaire right now?

You’re Making Something Cool

You’re making something cool.

Congrats – now let’s make some assumptions.

You’re a crew of lads and lasses who code for a relatively small start-up. You’re recently out of college, so you haven’t worked in a larger organization. This means you have not had to code under the auspices of a large process – quite the opposite: because there are so few of you, y’all are frontierfolk, coding in the wild wild west, gangnam-style garage-style.

You’re successful. Sales are up. So are profits. You’re making something cool, and you want to make more cool things, so you grow by hiring more coders. Your one team has grown to a handful. Because there are now more of you than the good ol’ garage days, general complexity has increased, so the founders of your start-up want to reduce some of the chaos by adding a little process.

What?!?!!!111!1one1!1oneuno!

You don’t like this.

We’ve been working fine without process. Now you want us to follow what? Scrum? What is this, rugby? Sales are up year over year. So are profits. What’s the problem? Don’t tell me what I can’t do!

You don’t like this one bit.

When folks in the software industry move from a big, rigid process to a small, Agile process, there are obviously increased freedoms. Heck, when folks talk about Scrum, they usually end up comparing it to the (more burdensome) status quo for software development. But you’ve been blessed.

Not blessed in a sense that you had an enviable upbringing – the software equivalent of parkour camp and paintballing and go kart racing and fueling all those adventures with home-made ice cream.

More blessed in a sense that you didn’t have a wretched upbringing – the software equivalent of… the beginning of most Roald Dahl stories.

Why do I have to use Scrum?

I was asked this not too long ago. And thusly I commenced my reply…

Hear ye, hear ye, oh ye crew-of-lads-and-lasses-who-code-for-a-relatively-small-start-up. I come bearing procedural gifts of enhanced freedoms and daily salvation.

…this was all I had in my Ye Olde Towne Crier pocket scroll. The ‘enhanced freedoms and daily salvation’ bit comes off as hyperbole, but now that my Sprints are 1 week instead of 2, I plan for less and actually get stuff accomplished, progress towards my life goals is measureable and tangible, and I feel I have a better handle on my path each day, where I’m better able to enjoy the journey, in the mirror I see a relaxed and happier face. And I’m a believer.

I told the crew that, off the bat, nobody has to do anything. There’s gotta be buy-in from the team, and that’s because the benefits and costs are explained and understood. Now, the costs are a lot easier to see – the regular meetings, breaking down tasks to a smaller-than-comfortable level, the brighter spotlight – and if this is all you see, and all you experience, then of course it’s gonna suck.

Those regular meetings are… constant, sure, but they’re tiny – 15 minutes a day – and they’re meant to be the only meetings, so no distractions from outside the team. Those smaller tasks are… smaller, sure, and that’s so you get feedback more often and you know the stuff you’re working on is going in the right direction – you’re not wasting your time. The spotlight is… brighter, sure, and that’s so stuff stopping or slowing you down can be found and addressed sooner – it’s not to micro-manage.

And that’s a decent point – it can seem micro-manage-y, but only if there isn’t an accompanying attitude of self-management.

Along with the processes that are so well advertised should be an ability for folks outside the team to truely trust the team to do what they do best. This is the part of Scrum that isn’t easy, but it’s worth it. After all…

You’re making something cool.

Baconday

The following is my truly ridiculous Wikipedia entry for ‘Baconday‘ – a birthday present for a quasi-nephew who recently turned 14. I forget how much I enjoy writing outlandish stories. What have you forgotten that you enjoyed?

A baconday is a day that comes once a year when a person celebrates the anniversary of their birth. Created in 1776 by the Connecticut delegate to the Continental Congress Silas Deane, this amendment to the concept of a birthday is celebrated in the New England region of the United States, often with a ridiculous rite of passage, usually involving a feat of strength.

Inspiration

On a sea voyage to France with noted prankster Benjamin Franklin, the two foreign diplomats imbibed many an impromptu concoction. One fine day, a carefully rationed experiment in brewing bacon ale resulted in a four-bottle batch, of which three were intended for supporter of American independence Beaumarchais. The fourth bottle was shared between Deane and Franklin, with subsequent conversations resulting in baconday, an idea so creative, by their impaired judgement, that they feared the creative power of such a drink in French hands to the degree that they withheld their gift. Missing since the trans-Atlantic trip, the location of these bottles have been the subject of fable among New England bacon-lovers.

One bottle was found and sold at Christie’s auction house in 2007 for 100 brazillion dollars. The other two are still on the loose. Watch out.

Tradition

Intended for the families of Connecticut delegates, Deane proclaimed 13 bacon-related challenges, after the 13 American colonies, to be assigned and completed at each birthday, starting from one’s 13th birthday. Records were kept at the State House in Hartford, until the start of the Civil War, whereupon the more pressing matters at hand pushed out the jocular tradition from daily focus.

Pre-Civil War, the state’s government meetings began with a summary of the bacondays’ events since the previous meeting. Post-Civil War, the agenda item is not addressed, although it ceremoniously remains in the agenda as a reminder of those lost during the war.

Challenges

1st Baconday, 13th Birthday

Snort 13 fl. oz. of bacon grease in 13 minutes.

2nd Baconday, 14th Birthday

Consume 14 lbs of bacon in 14 minutes.

3rd Baconday, 15th Birthday

Wear 15 strips of bacon, from dawn ’til dusk, as the only item of ‘clothing’.

4th Baconday, 16th Birthday

Debate the virtues of crown rule against 16 strips of bacon in the town square.

5th Baconday, 17th Birthday

Soak in 17 pounds of bacon, from dawn ’til dusk.

6th Baconday, 18th Birthday

Run for mayor, with 18 strips of bacon as your running mate.

7th Baconday, 19th Birthday

Balance 19 lbs of bacon on your head in the town square.

8th Baconday, 20th Birthday

Perform an elaborate 20-part marriage proposal to a strip of bacon in the town square at noon.

9th Baconday, 21st Birthday

Take 21 shots of bacon grease, for breakfast.

10th Baconday, 22nd Birthday

Walk around, from dawn ’til dusk, with 22 strips of bacon in your shoes.

11th Baconday, 23rd Birthday

Submit to the state house a self-portrait using 23 strips of bacon.

12th Baconday, 24th Birthday

Legally change your name, first and last, to ‘Bacon’, for 24 days.

13th Baconday, 25th Birthday

Sing a 25-minute song, recounting your previous Bacondays.

References in Popular Culture

None. Yet.