Change Management

My management class continues to really hit home in  ways that I never expected from an MBA class. For a class that focuses on high-level management strategies, it is remarkably personal.

This past week we discussed change management. When I first heard about this topic a few years ago, I imagined it in over-simplified terms based on m IT experience - print out some documentation, engage end users before the change, then walk around the floors and be prepared to answer questions about the new product. Hand-holding, we call it. You can make fun of it, but it's an important part of IT's role within the organization.

What I hadn't fully realized then was how much my background as a military brat has prepared me for the role of change management. I was living in Europe when the Berlin Wall was torn down, and that example is one that our instructor has used repeatedly. What do we do now, she asks, hypothetically, now that forty years of history are no more? The old way of doing things ist vorbei. We must find a new way forward in an unfamiliar landscape.

That was the background against which I graduated high school an entered college, and bearing witness to the transformational power of technology has always been rooted, for me, in the collapse of the Cold War.

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Monsters in a Box

Monster bagels. That's what Michael called them. They were the deformed, over-sized or under-sized bagels at the local bagel shop along Lighthouse Way. We were about twelve, and knew each other through our parents, who worked with each other at the Navy School. When I would visit Michael's, we would take a walk to the bagel shop. He would always ask for "monster bagels" because if the had them, they were free. Our odds were better in the morning. By afternoon, more often than not, one or more unnamed predecessors had come in and acquired them, or else they had been bagged up and set out as bird feed for tourists on Fisherman's Wharf.

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Church of the Sub-Genius

Silly? Yes. True? Yesser.

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Snap, Crackle, Pop

My body crackles when I stretch.

I carry my tension in my shoulders and neck. Sometmes, it feels like everything between my neck and lower back is just a slab of dried meat, or a rocky carapace molded into its final shape. Then, I stretch - reach for the sky! Reach for the walls! Grainy musculature grinds against itself. Sinews bend only with the promise to snap back into shape.

Then, I twist my neck, and with a pop I feel tension release, like a spring that's come unwound.

I'm getting older. Not old, but certainly older. It's lamentable that as much care as I put into the meat-sack, it's already wearing out.

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O Tattered Remnants of My Childhood

While I find Salon to be a bit earnest at times, I rather enjoyed this column on what Obama's election meant to a generation of cynical Xers. In particular, this passage was charming in its references:

"We were raised under Ronald Reagan, smiling emptily under a shellacked cap of shiny brown hair like a demon clown, warning us (With a knowing nod! With a wink!) about those evil Russians stockpiling nuclear arms thousands of miles away. We were raised by "The Love Boat" and "Eight Is Enough" and "Charlie's Angels," a steady flow of saccharine tales with clunky morals. There were smiling families, hugging and learning important lessons on every channel, while at home, our parents threw dishes at each other's heads. We went to church and learned about God's divine plan every Sunday, but all it took was one Dr. Seuss cartoon about an entire world that existed on a speck of dust, and our belief in God was deconstructed in an instant. Our childhoods were one long existential crisis. We ate Happy Meals while watching the Space Shuttle blow into tiny bits."

http://www.salon.com/mwt/feature/2008/11/07/havrilesky/?source=newsletter

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148 Years Later

From the NY Times, an interesting, if predictable, coincidence:

"On Nov. 6, 1860, former Illinois congressman Abraham Lincoln defeated three other candidates for the U.S. presidency"

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Interesting

Some professionals I know are predicting the market bottoms out this quarter. The rest of the economy doesn't feel it till summer. Then the recovery begins.

Here is an interesting article.

In particular, I am glad it points out the value of foreign aid.

Then as now, Americans failed to understand that unattended hunger, disease, and deprivation are the breeding grounds of extremism and conflict that threaten our national security and lead to vastly larger costs.

http://www.thebigmoney.com/articles/judgments/2008/11/05/what-obama-needs-do?page=0,0

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Election Eve

My mother is convinced that Obama is the reincarnation of Abraham Lincoln, returned to finish the work that he started in his previous lifetime. Or so says my father. It sounds like my mother, at least, the mother I floated through adolescence with. Leave me unburdened with the sensible questions; I can tell you there are no good answers. Questions like, isn't Obama good enough within characterizing him as the return of a historical figure? Or hey, as long as we believe in reincarnation, who was Abraham Lincoln the reincarnation of?

It's Monday night, the night before the election. I vote in the morning. I like voting; I really do consider it to be a civic duty. While it's tempting to say that this election matters is extremely important - and it is - I'm not sure that elections are ever unimportant. In my own voting lifetime, 1992 seemed like a given, as did 1996, but maybe that's my own ignorance talking. The 2000 election, for all is endgame drama, didn't seem important at all at the time, but certainly was in retrospect. 2004 was the first election I really felt emotionally vested in, and based on those results, I have been withholding myself a bit in this election.

I was a Hilary supporter. For all her flaws (real and perceived) I thought she was the best candidate. I still do. I think Obama ran a better campaign. And let's be clear, I don't think Obama is a bad candidate. I just thought Hilary was better.

On the Republican side, I feel much more strongly about Sarah Palin than I do about John McCain. I can criticize McCain's policies and his campaign just as easily as I might criticize Obama's, but the inclusion of Sarah Palin has got to be the most laugh-out-loud disturbing move that could sway me one way or another. It's easy to say she's stupid, naive, or whatever - if that were all true, then you wouldn't have to worry much about her possible tenure in the White House. I think she is smart, politically savvy, and very focused on achieving the White House. I wouldn't really be concerned otherwise.

In any case, I vote tomorrow morning before going to work. In many ways, my vote doesn't matter; New York is solidly Democratic, so it's a given that Obama will get New York. I have a midterm tomorrow night; after that, it's of to the pub to watch the results with all the other downtown rabble-rousers.

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A Big Weekend

So this weekend has been huge. I don't remember ever seeing Halloween, the NYC Marathon, and an important election converging so closely together.

I'm not a big Halloween person. I'm sort of a spoiler that way, and I don't mean to be. In fact, I try to like Halloween, I want to enjoy it. I just can't. I don't get into the costume bit. I appreciate a good costume, but let's face it, most people do not make or wear good costumes. I also suspect that in my heart of hearts, I am insanely competitive about costumes. I know I'll never put the time and effort into making a truly kickass costume, so I basically don't care to play. Finally, if you take the costuming and death themes out, in the city you're really just seeing a bunch of adults out drinking and having fun together. I've been to plenty of parties. I don't need to dress up as Princess Leia to have fun.

Still, I went to a party sponsored by the student association at my school. It was at a club called Slate, 21st between 5th and 6th; a nice enough place. I didn't see anyone I know. I hung out and chatted with some people, made the rounds, danced. I also wondered, what the hell is it with fat dancing Asian kids? There were two guys wearing these inflatable suits that made them look like walking mangoes. They were coordinated in there dancing - it was a site. They also performed simulated sex acts on girlfriends they were with, as well as with each other. It was something to see.


So, Saturday was a day of studying and cleaning the apartment. I did something else momentous - I bought an iPhone. I am trying so hard to be underwhelmed by this device. It is awesome. I cuddle with it in bed. I walk around the city mapping myself. I am on Facebook and Linkedin with it. OMG, it is, like, the perfect device for me, a mobile companion that does everything I need or want.

The only trouble was, there were not subways all weekend; we were reduced to shuttle buses north of 96th street. Coming back from the gym was a bear, so, I stay in all night - and played with my iPhone.

Favorite app? Real Soccer 2008.


The marathon was today. My apartment looks right out over 5th Avenue, mere blocks from where the runners come in to Manhattan after the Bronx. I watched them start on TV, then watched the political news shows, then watched the runner trickle by. More studying and housework, then I went on a long walk down through Central Park, listening to music on my iPhone. OMG, love it.


So the election is Tuesday. I know who I am going to vote for; I am astonished at anyone who is undecided at this point. I am not sure which way things will swing. In NYC, it's easy to support Obama and assume he's got a lock, but friends of mine who live or visit outside of the city describe endless McCain support as far as the eye can see. It is telling.

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I'm So Happy

This has been one of my favorite Sting songs for ages. I seem to like his lesser, more depressed works in general. That said : Sting, I don' get it. You're like. . .a punk rock cowboy? With spaceships? And alien friends driving 57 Chevys like flying saucers? Dude, the midwest is strange, but not that strange.

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I'm So Happy

This has been one of my favorite Sting songs for ages. I seem to like his lesser, more depressed works in general. That said : Sting, I don' get it. You're like. . .a punk rock cowboy? With spaceships? And alien friends driving 57 Chevys like flying saucers? Dude, the midwest is strange, but not that strange.

Embedded Video

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