I've got a PMP and I'm ashamed to put it on my resume.


I get 10 calls a week from recruiters interested in me because of that certification, but they don't have any clue that the PMP teaches you the worst way to run software projects. In the words of a project manager at ThoughtWorks, "It's useful for not getting sued but that's about all."

The reason: The PMP believes in BDUF (Big Design Up Front) and fails to recognize the uncertainty, change, and human frailty that dooms some 80% of dev projects to failure. Sure, there's talk about how CMMI can be Agile, but these people are putting lipstick on a pig. (Actually, they're trying to sneak Agile into the enterprise by using the BDUF guys' language, something I applaud. It's just hard to read it and keep a straight face.)

So the industry insists you have a PMP. And the recruiters and hiring managers all ask about how you track issues and schedules. How you communicate. WTF. You're talking with me now mutha fucka? Can't you tell how I communicate? Why not ask a real question like "what makes a team jell?" or "how can you model human behavior in paper requirements so that your sponsor really understands what she's buying?" Well, I can guess why they don't ask these questions--they've never really built software. They are paper pushers and don't understand the craft. IT really is in a terrible mess, and I don't see it getting better any time soon.

Become Your Own Vintner

2 Buck Chuck. Everyone loves it. The phenom at Trader Joe's is the house wine in many mid-income domociles. At least it used to be. The trouble with Chuck, is that at that price ($3.69 in Ohio, thank you, Governor) you drink it all the time and, well, familiarity breeds contempt. With Chuck, it is kinda deserved: The over-ripe flavors, the heavy hand of maloactic fermentation, the cloying sweetness and lack of character. Chuck is the party girl who used to be fun, but now you don't have anything to talk about.

That is, until recently.

I've found that if you buy some really cheap french country wine--earthy and dry, normally undrinkable for new-world dwellers--and you mix it with Chuck, you've suddenly got something new. You've sent the ol' girl to finishing school and she's, well, a little more French--subtle, complex, balanced. And most importantly, she's still a cheap date.

Quote

'We should give up the foolish task of trying to be saints and get on with the more important task of trying to be human.'

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Oh God, the Pause.

I'd just told my story to Ben, a lawyer for Yahoo! whose childhood buddy is a friend. Not just any story, but the "coherent narrative of my professional career," as I imagine a more philosophical Martin Yate would say. About building a company and leaving it after 7 years--leaving it while it was making money! Sometimes I still can't believe it. I loved the people and my unlimited vacation allotment. At times doubt my sanity. Usually I can tell by the length of the pause whether my audience buys my story or thinks I got canned and am down on my luck. I know I would believe the latter.

"Why did I leave?" I ask myself during the pause. I know the answer, but only partly, and the reasons keep shifting month to month. "I'm ready to live by the ocean" or "I want my boys to grow up near the mountains." Recently I've settled for "My job became mundane--the IT equivalent of running a dry cleaners." All this is to say, I'm not nearly as rational as I used to believe.

I wanted more. More what? The money was good. I had freedom, worked with good friends. Sometimes I don't know why I did it. I usually feel this way when I'm talking to guys like Ben. In a second or two I'll either have a new friend who understands my angst or a dude shaking his head on the other end thinking, "How fast can I get off this call..."

Such is the odd business I'm in these days...