Road Warrior Princess

Mid-Year Resolution

I am starting to get tired of the term "integration."

This may sound very strange to those of you who are my colleagues and business associates, so let me explain.

My primary technology focus for the past five years has been on a Web product that we (at my employer) have always characterized as "integrating" with our CRM product.  This made a lot of sense to me at the time, before I really understood the core architecture of the Web product and its database.

However, a term that my dear friend and business associate recently used woke me up.  What I work on is definitely NOT data integration.  It's data singularity.

This is a key difference to which I fear many organizations pay little attention.  The concept of singularity essentially derives from the existence of one, a single, data model or set.  The concept of integration, on the other hand, infers a mashup of two sets which may talk back and forth to a limited degree.

Why do I say that integration is limited?  Why, because when two data sets exist, there is always a potential for disconnect - for a failure to communicate.  In real life, though two people marry, with their personalities, life goals, and hopes for the future incredibly in sync, there still exists communication breakdown, inability to candidly discuss difficult topics, and a potential for individual growth that can forever change the relationship.  Likewise, two data sets, two systems with matching elements storing the "same" data always provide an opportunity for this same communication breakdown.

It is with this thought in my mind that I will attempt to purge the term "integration" from my technical discussions, and replace it with "singularity."

From a technical perspective, it is First Prize when a single record exists to represent a constituent/customer/client relationship.  There are so many channels in which we "exist" - and so many situations in which users expect consistency (bank & bank Web site, zoo front gate & monthly newsletter, Brand name catalogue/Web site/store/daily eMail/Max Azria should be calling me directly at this point), that constituent expectations run high.  It is with this in mind that we must consider that a communication breakdown between systems can be crippling when a relationship is at stake.

So, a short list of what I consider and advise when talking data "singularity":

1. Consider the audience.  To reap the benefits of data singularity, you must market them.  In essence, for data to be a usable resource, it must be dynamic, and only with the constant growth and change of the data (because of behavior, response, activity, etc.) can you effectively use it.  Therefore, the audience must be continually cultivated and pruned to respond.

2. Consider the endpoint.  This is the most dynamic consideration point - with a single source of truth, you have the ability to analyze, grade, and respond to any data element.  Therefore, it is important to understand that metrics and analysis will change, but to also understand that you must begin with at least a short-term way to measure performance.  Without concrete goals, the ROI of the singularity is not definable.

3. Consider the upkeep.  Make sure that you have the manpower to act on providing relevant, targeted information.

4. Consider the hardware.  Ensure that you or your service provider can service the ongoing requests.

Now, who's "single and ready to mingle"?

Identity Crisis

If you follow me on Twitter or Friendfeed, you know that this week is quite important.  My physical future (literally) hangs in the balance.

Without revealing too many personal details, it is quite possible that I will be relocating.  No, not to jail, and yes, I will continue at my current place of employment.

This is a change that I have very little control over (gratefully).  However, it is a change that has caused me to take great pause in thinking about all the areas of my life that will be affected - work, friendships, church, sports teams, the bars I frequent, even the airport personnel that I interact with weekly - there are many versions of myself - identities - that I maintain on a daily basis. 

These are ones I cultivate through physical attention.  However, after reading a commentary from one of my favorite sources, I began to realize that during these hours of mental reflection, nary a thought drifted to the identities that I cultivate through virtual membership!

In thinking about this major life change, I've had to reflect on what I call my physical identities - those that I maintain as a member of physical society.  However, it's been quite interesting, and almost a relief, to realize that much of my collective identity (the one made up of all of my identities) is not physical, but instead virtual.  In fact, a relocation may affect my general interactions in quite a limited way! 

Very few people spend much time cultivating their virtual identities.  I've spent enough time building and researching these branches of my identit-tree (OMG, you didn't see that coming??? Hilarity!) to know where and how I will appear in online searches, and what details my profiles reveal to specific audiences.  I've learned that without proper care and feeding, your online personas will wither, become outdated, or worse - subsumed by another Web participant with the same name.  This affects not only you, but anyone and any organization closely affiliated with you.

Seven years ago this week, I packed my Ghetto Cruiser (same one I drive today, that loyal Jeep) with all of my earthly possessions and moved out of state.  This was my third time moving myself into a new location with a limited or nonexistent network.  At the time, I was both terrified and excited - but understood that a long road lay ahead if I wished to recreate the rich network of friends and colleagues I had enjoyed in the capital of the Dirty South.

This time, however, the colleagues exist and are accessible in near real-time.  The friends?  Likewise.  My daily life, both personal and professional, involves less physical interaction than virtual.  Some of my closest friends, those that I speak with on a weekly, if not daily basis, I've met fewer than a dozen times in person.  Even the systems I maintain and interact with don't have a truly physical existence.  It is the nature of my work, and yet, also my life.  Two different identities, each collectively comprised of multiple sub-identities.  Each one, a valuable component of my collective true identity.  Yet, each network representative of the real me.

As I think more about this physical move, I find more peace.  I've done this before and it turned out fine.  However, I've never before had the network already available upon landing.  This time, though I may find myself in a physically new place, my true network stays in tact, ready to catch me.

Dichotomy

It is the season in which we vote on the Freddie Awards.  If you don't know what the Freddie Awards are, you are no road warrior.  The Freddie Awards are basically a chance for travelers to vote for our favorite travel programs.

I am not sure that this is why the pilot for my first flight of the day actually took the time today to walk through the aisles of the plane (yes, the pilot) to thank all of us row by row.  I am also not sure that this is the reason that the front desk of my hotel called me just to check on me after I arrived.  But I am pretty effing sure that it is NOT the reason that the flight attendant on my second flight of the day acted like a totally condescending, rude, and disrespectful jerk. 

A fuzzy overcoat was the initial victim of her disdain.  "Whose is this?! Who put this here?" she barked as she yanked the coat from the overhead bin.  "And who put this purse here?! Ya'll have been REALLY bad..."

I am usually the first to become irritated with the lack of space in overhead bins as the result of passengers who don't follow proper etiquette, like using both the space above and below for belongings, and putting your jacket in last, only if others around you have placed their bags.  Now this airline employee was shrieking out all those thoughts I had always had kept to myself...so why was I so offended at her outburst? 

I had just been seated and was about to forgive the airline in my mind for not getting an upgrade this flight (thanks to the friendly PR pilot from the last flight).  I think that because my opinion of this company had flown so high (ha, get it?) in the past hour, this flight attendant affected me that much more.  Her griping in the aisles was bad enough to leave a bad taste, when...

"WELL, IT LOOKS LIKE WE'VE GOT THE PLANE LOADED WITH ABOUT 5 MINUTES TO SPARE.  THANK YOU.  A FEW OF YOU WERE BAD, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, ROW 13, BUT WE ARE READY."  Yes, she announced that over the intercom.  I wasn't even in row 13 and I was embarrassed!  Well, I was in 12 -but was still wearing my overcoat (not the perpetrator!).

I realized over the course of the next hour that Kathy Griffin (my code name for this flight attendant) was doing what so many of us are guilty of: assuming that her casual, day-to-day persona was appropriate for customers.  I know I do this at times - I become frustrated and start to slip.  I have to remember that my "Californian" (read: sarcastic) sense of humor is not always appreciated!  Not everyone will agree with me and/or understand my references to obscure scientific/technical/literary sources! 

Of course, I had just been reading one of those Denny Hatch articles (which, generally, are quite good) about delighting the customer, so I admit that I was a bit sensitive.  This experience, though, showed me how quickly the simple mistake of becoming too complacent with the stability of your job can cause a rift between a customer and a company.  Though the humble gratitude that the first pilot had shown us was a shining beacon in the dark night that is customer service, this condescending staffer plunged us back into the abyss even deeper than where we started.  I could hear mumblings around me of "THIS is why I don't fly this airline." 

This is a daily battle that we that meet customers must continue to fight.  I do not employ myself, but I must remember that my employer's customers associate me with their feelings about my employer.  This is something that "Kathy Griffin" needs to realize - especially during Freddie Awards season. 

First Impressions

The final descent into Salt Lake City was dark and bumpy.  The snow had subsided for the time being but rocked the plane, as if making an attempt to remind us that it was still there, merely taking a break.

The only reason I decided to take this flight, instead of traveling with my companions, was to be available for a highly stressful meeting regarding OLAP and the co-mingling of an external data source with our native data warehouse.

And while I spent hours - nay, days, preparing for creating a conceptual flow of dimensions and measures, and my demo partner equally worked at diagrams and custom SSIS packages, it was during the demo itself that I came to one realization:

It is the rare occasion that someone cares how this stuff works.  It is much more common that people care about how it looks.

Although the ETL refresh and overlay of data were certainly captivating in their own right, I realize that those who want to see it work are those who haven't seen the end product.  What this means is: Show them a screen that looks like what they want, and they don't care how it got there.

Full disclosure: I actually discovered this a couple of months ago when I built a custom view for a meeting that didn't actually calculate anything; rather it simply transformed data into a different data element type, to better mimic what the client had described.  Simply mocking up a view was all it took to allay concerns.  However, today, in actually performing a detailed "How does it" demonstration, I was very aware that we only had to do this because no proof of concept screen had been available. 

Here's a better example: I don't care gas-efficient the Chevy Cobalt I'm renting is; all I can think about is how hideous a canary-yellow car is!  I'm hung up on the presentation layer when I should be thinking about gas cost or suitability for driving in snow!  Oh, how heavy the burden of pre-disposed preference can be!  But really, who in their right mind would be pre-disposed to like this color?  Who told Chevy that this color was a good choice for a vehicle?  A CLOWN?

In all seriousness, it is this that these two situations, today's meeting and my rental of a heinously painted automobile that has brought me to truly understand that first impressions are so important.  Not rocket science, I know.  However, knowing this should remind us to prepare for each important interaction - to think about and specifically design each first impression (well, at least in business).

Click here to see the atrocity that was my rental.

Not all those who wander are lost (~J. R. R. Tolkien)

I've been in the office for over a month.

The only travel I've managed to do was a quick trip to W. Palm Beach for a nonprofit event, and I was so desperate to get on that plane I looked like a heroin addict who finally managed to score a hit.

So, since I've been landlocked, I've been searching for purpose.  It's been difficult!  Working, self-medicating, and home renovation have begun to lose their appeal.  I've realized that I have truly defined myself by my movement across state/country borders.

What would I do if I were permanently grounded?  I truly believe that this is not an option if I hope to be happy; however, I have come to realize that the travel doesn't have to be quite as much to maintain a stable mind.  Being off the road has forced me to realize that I love not only the people I meet and the places I see, but I truly love the process of traveling.  I love flying in a plane.  I love the feeling of hotel sheets and a puffy duvet on a cold night.  If you do much traveling for your job, you have probably decided by now that I must live in a hovel to enjoy being on the road for these reasons.  Who could possibly prefer the loneliness of the business trip to the comfort of one's own home?

It is these surroundings that truly keep me going, because, like a child, I am still excited by them.  Every time I feel the plane take off, I am overwhelmed with the amazement that Man could engineer such a wonder.  Flying through God's heavens reminds me of the beauty, splendor, and danger of this life.  I wax poetic as I look about the amalgamation of postcards here at the office that represent my journeys.  This is a way of life.

Being this wistful is wearing me out.  Thank goodness I get back out there next week.

I'm not unfaithful, but I'll stray...

I've strayed.

Reading has always been an escape for me, and thus writing is a logical extension of that therapy.  Writing allows me to not only escape, but also to create my own reality.

However, as I've traveled more, I've taken on multiple mistresses: fitness, drinking, daydreaming, and television are just a few of my dalliances.  My writing has become a dejected pariah, thrown to the wayside by a fickle, philandering spouse.

All drama aside, I've realized in the last few months that my constant travel has created a new person in me, and not one that is entirely admirable.  I've become cynical, lazy, and haughty.  What I want to be, though, is a gracious, ambitious, but humble person, and I want to do this while being faithful to who I really am.  This is a REALLY big undertaking.  So, I've taken the step to make a simple New Year's resolution.  This goal is simple in theory, but complex in execution.  I want 2009 to be the year that I LOVE.

In loving, I will strive to love God first, and foremost.  I also wish, though, to both proactively love others and myself, and return love when I receive it.  Finally, I want to extend my love to those passions I once held so dear, including that of writing.  I will be more faithful to those people and things that I should cherish most.

Does this mean that I will blog more?  Not necessarily.  I will strive to write more, but it may be through other media.  I will prove to myself that I am not unfaithful though I have been absent.  Love often leads to creation, so as I look down the scope at this coming year, I anticipate what the act of giving more love will produce.

Who am I?

Do you like to watch movies?  As a general rule, I hate to watch movies.  There are a couple of reasons for this:

1. I have a hard time sitting still for more than an hour and want my freedom to roam around.
2. My imagination gets consumed by highly dramatic or psychologically stressful movies, and I get confused, and I end up with nightmares for a week or an irremediable fear of camping/babysitting/amoebas living in the lake/men in clown makeup.
3. I would rather be out living my life than sitting on the couch/movie theater seat watching an actor fake out someone else's life and fund their highly opulent lifestyle that I don't get to take part of in the process.

Yes, I know: Bitter, party of one.

However, last night, I got suckered into seeing a movie with my girlfriends last night: "The Women."  It wasn't the best movie I have ever seen, but it was lively, and we were drinking, and I was with some of the best friends that I have had in my life.  I had fun later trying to categorize my friends into the character roles (the "pregnant friend" was easy to pinpoint, the "friend at a crossroads" was also a shoe-in, we're all pretty much the "career-minded friend", but who's the "homosexual party friend"?  I had trouble with that one.  I guess the "party friend" suits me - but sorry ladies - I am straight.)

Despite my aversion to scripted pseudo-stories, this movie had more of a lasting effect than I thought it would.  When the protagonist reached "rock bottom", she was asked a very pertinent question: "What do YOU want?"

This certainly got my mind brewing, but I soon extrapolated it:

What do I want?
Who am I?
Who do I want to be?
What do I expect out of others?
What do others expect of me?
(Finally) What do others expect of...OTHERS?

This last question had an extremely technical implication, of course, and since I had just been in a technology meeting with a health services organization, it had special meaning. 

Technology has provided so many options for personalizing an experience through different types of interactions: Web, E-mail, direct mail, phone.  However, so often, these interactions are disparate - those I spoke with today even shared that today, they have an entire Corporate Major Gifts program that is not only run by a single person, but managed completely separately from their "central database." PERISH THE THOUGHT!

This is NOT what I want or expect.  I would barely tolerate it, were I able to detect it. 

So, what is it that I want?  What is it that I expect, and other Gen Yers expect?  One word: Consistency.

I expect that when I provide information to you, that you receive it, regardless of medium.

I expect that when you receive this information, that it travels throughout whatever internal systems you have, so that I don't have to provide it twice.

I expect that once I provide this information to you, that things will "change" - that you will send me things addressed appropriately, that are timely, and that I've indicated an interest in. 

I expect you to be able to answer the question of "Who am I?" FOR me - to anticipate my interests, before I even know them, by past behavior. 

I expect you to be my "listening friend."  Because once I can see that you are listening, I will be more willing to be the "responsive friend." 

The Man Every Girl Needs to Meet

I was packing for my last work trip, and managed to gently cram three days worth of clothing (read: suits, evening casual wear and running attire) into a small duffle bag.  Many times when I arrive at the airport with a smaller bag than my male travel colleagues, one of them will ask me how I pack so small. 

My answer is simple: nude-colored pumps.  Neutral-colored shoes go with anything, so you only need one pair, even for a week-long trip.  That makes room for other things, like running shoes.

However, as I was reflecting on my packing skills, I hearkened back to a time when I was an inquisitive young woman of, oh, about 24 years.  I had just arrived in Virginia Beach, and it was in this magical town that I met the man who would become...my fashion guru.

His name was Brad.  I never asked him, but I would guess that he had lived a full 65 years or so.  I met this character when I climbed into the back of his taxicab.  He was unassuming enough, but had a strange lisp.  His first question was: "Do you find, being as smart as you are, and as attractive as you are, that you have trouble in your career?"

Needless to say, this confused me, and after stumbling through a response, he got to his point: I needed to seek the advice of a fashion "professional."  He said I looked "sharp" in my casual plane-riding wear, but that a "professional" could design a look more "authoritarian."  That is the word that he used; this is not a typo; he did not say "authoritative."  He indeed suggested that I strive to inspire complete subjection through my choice of dress.  Now THAT is advice that your girlfriends won't give you!

With these tidbits, I was hooked.  But, it was his compelling comment near the end of the ride that has truly inspired me in my fashion choices to this day: "Some people just don't understand the power of clothing."  I was floored.  What had I been missing?  More importantly, how is this haberdashery genius stuck driving a cab?

The true greats don't aspire to greatness in this life.  Like Gandhi before him, and the guy who invented Kung Fu, Brad simply sought to provide his valuable haute couture consultation from his humble position (in this case, the front seat of a taxi) - to anyone who would listen.  So Brad, I thank you - because of you, those neutral-colored pumps have a razor sharp tip and a 4-inch stiletto, so that I will always be prepared in the case of a peasant uprising.

In Honor of the Olympics...

I remade myself into an Olympic superstar. DO IT.

Four Days in...Vegas

I've been a bit out of sorts for the last 24 hours.  This is because I realized late yesterday that I am not living the life I had planned.  Of course, I am traveling a lot, which was what I have aspired to do since childhood, but I am no jet-setter.  However, until yesterday, I was living that life.

You now are wondering, "how can this be? And how can I, too, live the good life, like in that Kanye West song?"  Simple.  Go to Las Vegas.

Las Vegas puts the "V" in "VIP".  It also puts the "V" in "vice" and "venereal disease."  But, I digress.  You wanna roll VIP, hang out with celebrities, and party like it's your job?  Vegas is the place!  I know, since I spent the last four days there, and I am here to provide you with the tips you will need to maximize your VIP experience.

First off, plan to spend an entire day getting there, even if you live in the state of Nevada already.  Hey, if you REALLy wanna be a jet-setter, you gotta be seen at ALL the hotspots.  That's what I did.  I didn't realize this at first, so thanks to the nice folks at Delta for realizing my star potential, and rerouting me through not just one, but BOTH AIRPORTS in New York City.  Good thing I was wearing my designer $60 dress.  Gotta look fly when you're rolling on the New York subway during your 6 hour layover.  YOWZA!

Speaking of dress code, remember that Vegas is one of the few places on earth where you can dress like a skank and still look like a school marm compared to most of the people you will meet.  South Beach is also like this, and so is Berlin during the annual "Love Parade."  Then again, most of the skanks at Love Parade are men.  So, ladies, hit the local Insurrection or Pleasure Palace and pick up that bathing suit you've been eyeing - you know, the one whose top and bottom appear to be interchangeable.  You will still feel overdressed.  (**Disclaimer: If you are over 50, please disregard this paragraph.**)

Men shouldn't feel left out - the girls don't get all the fun!  There's nothing that Las Vegas loves more than a fully decked-out guido, so boys, stock up on the hair gel and gold necklaces and don't forget to wax your chest - the broads are gonna love your look!  And if you want that extra edge, don't forget to master the dance that will have all the honeys flocking your way: the "Guido Fist Pump." FUHGEDDABOUTIT!

Make sure you make reservations on the guest list for any places you ABSOLUTELY must go.  Or, in case these joints don't realize what kind of celebrity they are dealing with, use a trick I've learned over the years: disguise your voice and pretend to be your own assistant. 

While in Las Vegas, I enjoy indulging in many of the typical vices, at least the legal kind.  I restrict my substance abuse to alcohol, unless you count my addiction to Red Bull.  I'm not sure what "Taurine" is, but it sure doesn't SOUND natural.  But hey, the Red Bull Web site made it sound legit, so who am I to judge?

Anyway, the one pleasure that I exclusively reserve for trips like this is gambling, and here's my final piece of advice: STAY AWAY FROM POKER.  Unless you compete regularly on the WSOP tour, you will lose.  Plus, why do you want to sit around a table where no one will see you?  You got all decked out for the occasion, so go ahead, and join me at the craps table.  You will really look like a VIP and you might even meet a celebrity (I gambled with Clottey after the match) or few like I did.  Just don't block my roll with that giant gold medallion you're wearing.