Tag Archives: Opinion & Humour

SNIS – YAMFLA (Yet Another Meaningless Four-Letter Acronym)

 

The world of Information Technology overflows with its arcane jargon and acronyms, but it is by no means, the sole offender of creating inpenetrable and mysterious language.

I was recently driving along and saw this displayed on the dot-matrix on the back of a bus…

what does SNIS mean

…and whilst admiring the rendition of the letters on the display and pondering dot densities and the like, I then spent precious minutes attempting to work out what it was actually trying to say, and where was the bus going?

There is a lot of talk about reducing street clutter at one moment, and then, again, increasing confusion within the driver’s mind to make them slow down

coincidentally, Hans Monderman , the proponent of “Shared Space”, died earlier this year, but that is another tangent

but this new FLA certainly did the latter, and none of the former for me!

As I overtook and looked in my mirror, Eureka, the bus was heading for the depot, and proudly displaying “Sorry, Not In Service” on the long display at the front.

Yes, the transport types have invented a new word-thing and foisted on us unsuspecting general public who really didn’t need it and shouldn’t be spending our time working out what it means. This particular word-thing should really only be used amongst consenting transport types and anoraks, and I don’t really mind if the bus people use it as a verb,

“OK, guys, we’ll SNIS this bus and bring on the relief”

just as long as they don’t do it in front of the children.

In my humble opinion, this display below would have worked better, and would probably have meant more to a large part of the world that uses the Roman alphabet…

a better graphic

Fool Us? More Fool you!

I stayed in an bizarre hotel in Kensington last week and was rather struck by the immense length of the central corridor, and odd green-ness of the lights, creating an institutional, Soviet/Stalinist feel to the place, and the sense that you could walk and walk and never find your room…

The_Green_Mile

…which brings me, of course, to carpets of which this place had many, many hectares.

Carpet stores have always seemed to me to be one of the last hangouts of stone-age man, well, stone-age marketing anyway.

Apart of the never-ending sales, and boring adverts, they seem to harbour troglodytes who have not worked out that it might just be better to treat their customers with a little bit of intelligence. The most insulting manifestation of this is the latest wheeze, the “cut, and then cut some more” sale pricing.

Carpetright have a great deal advertised at the moment at the local store…

Carpet_Madness

An interesting aside is that if you go to the Carpetright website and right-click your mouse, instead of the normal menu, you get a big Copyright notice, not obvious what they have to protect so assidiously

50% and then 20% more is, of course, supposed to make us think they are cutting prices by 70%, but, no, by a clever trick of arithmetic it is only 60% (the 20% only applies to something already cut in half).

“Carpet Stupidity” more like…

Mobile madness

Over the weekend, I was very nearly forced to hand out an “Unhappy Voucher”  after a foray into Mobile madness.

Mobile_Warranty_Replacement_Hell

Not quite in Norse saga territory, but after getting my daughter’s mobile phone replaced three times (cracked keys, random turning-off, etc., etc..), I finally gave in, consigned the not so old phone to Silicon Heaven, bought a new model on some cute subsidised deal, put the SIM in the Box of Many Identities, and handed over the new toy.

So imagine my surprise, when,  a week later, I was ambushed whilst staggering to the kettle for the first coffee of the day: “My phone’s dead, the display has gone”….. I said “Hnnh”

So there I was, standing in the shop, bristling……….it had all kicked off after the Sales Slug had rejected  my reasonable replacement request, and I asked to see the Manager, and  Dismal turned up…

Me: ….phone broken…..screen blank……Slug……packaging……not necessary…..in the bin.  Please could you replace it for me?
Dismal: Sorry,  we can’t replace the phone without all the original packaging
Me: …gone in the bin …
Dismal: Well we can’t replace the phone without the original packaging
Me: Yes, you can
Dismal: No we can’t
Me: Yes you can
..
Dismal: We could go on like this all day.  You’re not listening to me
Me: Yes, I am, I just think you’re wrong
Dismal: Are you calling me a liar?  – Great customer service, this, I thought
Me: No, just mistaken

(Dismal taps on keyboard)

Dismal:
I’ve typed here – advised customer of policy, blah, blah, .no packaging, need to order a handset and battery OK so they can replace the phone without the packaging, but he’s going to make me wait a long  time

(Tapping, more tapping, grunt, much more tapping, visit to the stockroom, more tapping, another visit to the stockroom – comes back with new phone in box looking unhappy)

Dismal:
We haven’t any handsets and batteries in stock, so I will have to take a new phone out of its box and send back the old one…

Yesssss!

Humanity – 1, Forces of Customer Service Evil – Nil

The Maths of Pointless Numbers

In an idle moment in a place I cannot recall, but may have been the local takeaway, I read the Daily Express, an unusual event.  And I read an article entitled “CANCER RISK OF JUST TWO GLASSES OF WINE A DAY”  which demonstrated exactly why not the read the Daily Express if you wish to retain your sanity.

This is how the Express sensitively rendered the story…

As_the_Daily_Express_sees_it

The particular issue raised by this non-news story has been rolling around the back of my brain for a while, however the creative forces have been battling with perfectionist tendencies, fending off a full research project on the many different life risks, probabilities thereof, and the mechanisms of converting annual probabilities into life-time ones, and all manner of analytical delights.

So to break the log-jam (and get a life in between), I have crayoned  the issue, rather than the full Powerpoint…

Getting_things_in_perspective

You can find all sorts of stats around the web about the probability of different life risks if you look – here and here, for example, and tease out interesting, contrarian nuggets.  Such as,  drowning is much more likely than a fatal dog attack, yet  there are many strait-jacketing laws on dangerous dogs, but no UK inland rescue force to save people who fall in the water, which paradox seems to defy common-sense.

The issue in the case of the Australian report is that the risk that is being increased by 75% is diddly-squat to start with, and (Diddly-Squat * 1.75) = Sweet FA (in the Maths of Pointless Numbers).  It is undoubtedly bad if it actually happens, but the probability is not something you can, or should, let dictate your life.

I suppose headlines like “Medicos issue report about irrelevant statistical findings that don’t matter” don’t sell papers, so  there must be people who enjoy a little frisson of fear, panic and anxiety over their breakfast corn flakes, and prepared to read the Express to get it….

Of Washing Machines and Software Errors

The human brain is constructed so that it is very good at seeing patterns (even where there are none), and so “coincidentally” after my previous spat on the same topic, I have been suffering my own version of Call Centre hell this week – just trying to book an engineer to come and mend our ailing tumble-drier.

Last year, just about this time, I fell for the pitch of Domestic & General who sold me a three-in-one policy for kitchen equipment breakdowns. And so it came to pass that the Tumble Drier started thrashing itself to pieces, just after the renewal letter came through.

All should have been smooth: “direct debit”, “you need to do nothing”, “renew automatically” were the comforting phrases in the letter. Tchah!

To cut a long story short I lost a few precious hours of my life listening to on-hold music and all that other stuff, and then when I got through it was “that fine, just call blah on this number, oh, thats strange the policy has been renewed but the equipment shows it is lapsed, let me put you on hold”…

So clearly the renewal process had gone all agly, creating an insurance curate’s egg, in fact.

But the cherry on the cake was when I received a very cheerful automated email from D&G below…

Spend_a_Penny_on_The_Washing_Machine

Renew for a penny? Hmmm, aha, the light dawns, something has gone wrong with their arithmetic. Last years price was £119.88, nicely divisible by 36 (3 boxes x 12 months), this years price (up, of course) is £131.88 – oh dear, divide that by 36 and you get lots of 33333333333333333333333333s on the end. Add in a bit of truncation and you have a nice little problem building up. If they had charged me £131.76, maybe things would have turned out differently.

Nothing as serious as the Patriot missile failure, or crash of Mars Climate orbiter (Imperial/Metric System confusion), or others of that ilk , but my very own personalised, computerised, automated rounding error.

Aside: Spreading the cost of the £0.01 by direct debit. I laughed so much I nearly died….

I clicked on the button, of course, I had to, in for a penny in for a penny, so to speak; to see if I could make the whole problem go away, but a “technical error” on the web-site prevented me from completing the transaction!

So here is a little sign for the D&G development team to hang from their office wall to act as a reminder as they ply their daily toil…

Say_No_To_Rounding_Errors

From Zip to Tikka

I have previously talked about the use of my observational superpowers to analyse the geo-cultural variations in traffic lights.  Indeed, with many years experience of driving I would like to regard myself as a sort of professional Gentleman Amateur in the general sphere of traffic management.

You know the sort of thing: new developments are appraised with a cynical eye and a firm grip on the steering wheel,  each new disaster greeted with a reproving glare, a sigh and shake of the head, the all too rare  improvements grudgingly admired, and gone in a flash as you pass down the road (at the prevailing speed limit, naturally).

And so, In my many miles of driving, with sometimes too much time on my hands, I am moved to muse on the solutions to many apparently intractable problems – one such topic  being that of the strange behaviour of  drivers when they reach a sign like this:

Lane_closure_sign

For many people, this is a command to form a single orderly queue about 5 miles out from the offending road works, and then fume/gesticulate/weave violently as a small number of other drivers (possibly acolytes of the Bavarian blue and white propeller) exercise a modicum of common sense to save a few minutes by driving up to the lanes towards the red blocks, and try to ‘merge in turn’, gasp, horror, don’t frighten the horses!

(There are yet other people that think this is a sign for a picnic area at the beach with cheap red plastic tables under  palm trees, but we’ll leave tham for another day).

The ‘zip merge’ is a respected means in other countries to speed the traffic through the taper where the road narrows,  as you can see from the diagram from New Zealand…

zip_merge_in_NZ

..yet it was allegedly considered sufficiently un-British to be excluded from the Highway Code until it finally made it in 2007.

Of course,  pondering on how best to solve this problem of irrational bahaviour, I came up with what seemed like a useful solution to level the playing field at the Taper’s End.  I won’t bore you with the details because I discovered the much more bizarre and entertaining fact when researching this topic:  there are web-sites out there where such matters are discussed amongst consenting adults.

You’ll find them if you look at places like Pistonheads, DigitalSpy, UK Roads Portal (Society of All British Road Enthusiasts) , Pathetic Motorways – I do have to admit a sneaking affection for this latter site, as it does nicely demonstrate some of the more farcical antics of road planners.

Side bar…

What did the users of these sites do before the Internet?  Hang around the Transport section at WH Smiths or the local Public Library?  Publish grubby Roneo’d  newsletters and  round robins? Hold earnest discussion groups on a Thursday night in the “snug” at the local pub?  Flock with cameras to major road openings?  Wow, what a life!

So having  having discovered that my great idea was not especially original, I have now moved on to a new problem to solve:  the near extinction of  the Chicken Tikka sandwich on the roads of Britain. Thanks to Smffy.com, I found a picture, but at Ginsters, nary a one!

chicken_tikka_sandwich

The truth must be told – why has Britain fallen out of love with the Chicken Tikka sandwich?

Middle Management: Muscle or Gristle?

Last year, I came across a couple of surveys about Middle Management that piqued my interest. The first said:

Middle managers emerge as a neglected, disillusioned and frustrated breed in research…a third say they are kept in the dark about company plans, almost two-thirds confess they are at a loss to understand their role   — jobs.telegraph, “Middle Managers are left in the dark”

And if you read the underlying report you see  that an astonishing 48% of middle managers do not think that communicating with their team is a key part of their job;

The second said:

…under performing middle managers are costing British business £220 billion a year in lost productivity.  Over half (54 per cent) of senior managers felt that middle managers were uncommitted to strategic goals, and 62 per cent criticized lack of management and leadership skills. — Hay Group,  “Alarming Performance Gap at Middle Management Level”

Whilst this is clearly a puff piece by Hay to sell all sorts of warm and fuzzy HR services, linking the two together, you can see why the senior managers and directors might hold those views.

Middle Management is possibly an endangered species these days, but does still seems to be hanging on in little niches,  according to these surveys, despite hating the job, and apparently failing in the eyes of their seniors, so you wonder why they stick it out?!

Wikipedia makes an amusingly naive attempt to define away the problem…

Middle management is a layer of management…whose primary job responsibility is to monitor activities of subordinates while reporting to upper management.  In pre-computer times < “What? Jurassic, maybe?”, dripping with sarcasm>, middle management would collect information from junior management and reassemble it for senior management.  With the advent of inexpensive PCs <“har, har”, choking on spittle>  this function has been taken over by e-business systems .  During the 1980s and 1990s thousands of middle managers were made redundant for this reason <“So simple?”>

…taking a Tom Peter’s-like knife to the whole layer, thus:

Anorexic_Management_Structure
…with the backbone provided by those amazing “inexpensive PCs” and fantabulous “e-business systems”:  However, as a saving grace, the entry does at least refer to communication as a key job function.

I went through an epiphany on this topic some many years ago, when working as a development manager in a computer manufacturer.  I was sitting in a daily “War Room” session held during the torrid Beta trials of a piece of probably under-cooked software.  In the room were the luminaries of Technical and International Sales & Service divisions and assorted lackeys, acolytes, water carriers and coat holders.  In particular, on the Technical Division side was this management line:

  • The Technical Director
  • The Development Director
  • The Development Manager (Me)
  • The Project Manager

The Beta trials were displaying all the dysfunction of a classic “waterfall” software development project going to b*ggery, hampered also by a functionally aligned organisation, and all the attendant politics.  So we spent many a fractious morning in the cut and thrust of departmental politics, whilst attempting to alleviate the pain of the early Beta customers.

Outside that bun fight, the job of a middle manager was supposed to be to “put yourself about”, (be seen to) sniff out issues, especially the opposition’s dirty laundry, and inform on the organisation to the Directors in your line, in short – a communication role, pure and simple in concept, hellish in reality.

The War Room was, however, one shining light in the risk management firmament – and something that still features many years later in Agile development methods (e.g, as the daily stand-up).  The concept is cribbed directly from military usage and is all about shortening communication lines to improve responsiveness and to win battles.

And in this gladiatorial “circus”, whose job was mainly about communication?  Well, mine.

The fun started when discussing the approach to some issue and it came down to fixing some malfunctioning product feature, and the bullets starting heading my way.

It was a frustrating, no-win situation:

  • I could, for example, just nod the question over to the Project Manager and be seen as weak, but then, why have a dog and bark myself?
  • I could have taken the role as Project Manager from the meetings to control the information flow, but that made a nonsense of the whole War Room, and would have been a recipe for being blamed for everything wrong with the project (which was woven into the very fabric);
  • or other strategies which were all equally flawed, within the oxymoronic constraints of the project and the organisation, and most vitally, defied sanity and common sense!

Then, ding, the light went on!  This job is pointless!

Moving back to the current day, elaborating on the analogy of “organisation as anatomy” , then you can start to think that there are, at the very simplest,  two types of job:

  • useful, creative, purposeful roles that move stuff forward, onwards, upwards – like Muscle
  • other roles that are like the connective tissues, insulation, piping for insanitary fluids and other ugly bits that get left on the side of the plate of life, yes, Gristle

Visually, then the pure Middle Management communication role has to be seen in this light:

Muscle_or_Gristle

I made my decision on this years ago, but for anybody who is still uncertain, I offer this handy little decision-making 2×2 matrix:

 

Middle Managers
Career Game board
Want to be…
Gristle Muscle
Treated as.. Gristle Stay Move!
Muscle Retire Enjoy

The Smell of Danger: Another study of the Blindlingly Obvious

I had an odd sense of deja vu when reading the headline Human noses 'can detect danger' . Didn't Gospodin Ivan Petrovic Pavlov work all that out all that stuff about conditioned/conditional reflexes back in the 1890/1900's?

So I looked at the abstract on the Science web-site to see if I could learn something new…

Learning to associate sensory cues with threats is critical for minimizing aversive experience.

OK, that makes sense…

The ecological benefit of associative learning relies on accurate perception of predictive cues, but how aversive learning enhances perceptual acuity of sensory signals, particularly in humans, is unclear.

Why is it unclear? Isn't that just the negative part of what Pavlov did – he could have rung his bell (or not, according to your version of history), and taken the dogs dinner away…

We combined multivariate functional magnetic resonance imaging with olfactory psychophysics to show that initially indistinguishable odor enantiomers (mirror-image molecules)

Ah, it's “enantiomers”, is it?

become discriminable after aversive conditioning, paralleling the spatial divergence of ensemble activity patterns in primary olfactory (piriform) cortex.

Uhuh.

Our findings indicate that aversive learning induces piriform plasticity with corresponding gains in odor enantiomer discrimination,

Yeah, well, like, totally, dude…

underscoring the capacity of fear conditioning to update perceptual representation of predictive cues, over and above its well-recognized role in the acquisition of conditioned responses.

I hear the sound of hairs being split. Can the neurons tell the difference?

That completely indiscriminable sensations can be transformed into discriminable percepts further accentuates the potency of associative learning to enhance sensory cue perception and support adaptive behavior.


(eerie silence, wind whistles, tumble weed rolls by)

:
:
:
:
Oh, you've finished, sorry, I was doing something else whilst you were talking.

I just checked the Fog index which says that the abstract is only fit for somebody with an astonishing c.29 years of education. To be fair though, the bowdlerised version for us mere mortals on the Science magazine site is only 17 Fog units…

So what's new? Well nothing much as far as I can tell, maybe they've just painted in a tiny crack in the universe of knowledge – where possibly a simple inductive proof might have been sufficient.

It would have been much more interesting if they had managed to demonstrate that smell is the contrarian sense doesn't work like all the others. Then we can only imagine what the headlines would have been…

Easter Snow: Devant le Deluge

First an earthquake, now a White Easter, if I were superstitious, I should be expecting some further meteoro- geo- or otherological event to be coming up soon.

The snowy countryside is certainly pretty…
easter_weather_compressed
..but maybe it could presage the inundation of the low-lying lands by the rising seas.

In that event, the Lincolnshire Wolds where I live (ringed in yellow on the map below), would become an island off the east coast of South Yorkshire.

sea_level

Almost serendipitously, I read that the Met Office launched its new “traffic light” severe weather warning system, which was rushed out a day early to announce the snow-storms over the weekend.

I am sure that traffic light afficionados, highways engineers, and railway signalling engineers all over the country will be grinding their teeth because it really is nothing like a proper traffic light at all. It does have the good old red and green, which do not work for the one in 10 red-green colour blind men in the population, but bizarrely, it has both yellow and orange aspects, just to confuse the other 90% of the population. Very democratic, but not very ergnonomic.

My wife and I have been telling the neighbours for some time that we are going to build a jetty at the end of the lane and park a boat there ready for the floods. So in anticipation of the Deluge, and our future status as island dwellers, it seems an appropriate moment to take a leaf from the Met Office book and create a localised version of the Severe Weather Warning System, below. The legend is helpfully mostly coloured blue…

weather_table

From Antiques to Comedy Electronics

Horncastle in Lincolnshire is quite well-known for its antiques shops where you can filch through piles of broken crockery, dusty books, rusty buckets and dead peoples sheets.

It is less well-known as a venue for comedy electronics. However appearances can be deceptive, as indeed I discovered when wandering through the town centre in the vain hope I might find a shop selling something less than ancient.

I was actually looking a phono-to-3.5mm jack convertor cable, but when I saw this…
Comedy_Remote_Control
…I had to have it.

No chance of losing this one down the back of the sofa!