Archive for the ‘Work’ Category

 

“I just sit at a typewriter and curse a bit”*

 
 

http://www.flickr.com/photos/arfried/367423493/Earlier in the year I was approached by the nice people at Apress, who asked me if I was interested in writing a book. I’m still not entirely sure why they approached me – are all the people who know what they’re talking about tied up with more interesting stuff? – but flattery gets you a long way with me, so I said yes.

Provisionally titled “Pro iOS Table Views“, the book’s going to cover the UITableView and associated gubbins to a level of detail that most iOS titles can’t do. The table view is to iOS apps what reinforced concrete is to architecture – it’s virtually omnipresent, suffers from a perception that it’s somewhat dull, and yet is capable of doing amazing things with a bit of love and attention.

While this probably won’t make me the next J K Rowling, hopefully it might contribute a tiny amount to the sum total of human happiness – if only by reducing the amount of swearing that occurs when an iOS developer meets some of the more – ahem – interesting quirks of the SDK.

The book’s a deep-dive into how the table view works and what you can do with it. The core Apple documentation is good, but only scratches the surface – and it also makes massive assumptions about prior knowledge of design patterns like delegation and data sources.

Huge amounts of really clever stuff is strewn liberally across the blogosphere and fora like Stack Overflow, as well – so the intent for the second part of the book is to pull some of that together to demonstrate Cool Things That Can Be Done (thus addressing the perception problem…)

The process so far is giving me a new respect for technical authors, because it’s bloody difficult to hit the sweet spot between blinding you reader with science, and insulting their intelligence with stuff that’s humiliatingly Janet-and-John. Then there’s the rampant paranoia that somewhere in your code lurks egregious howlers that will cause the entire industry to split their sides with mirth at your pathetic attempt at preventing memory leaks.

At the moment it’s slated for publication in the New Year during MacWorld. Which will explain my increasingly frantic expression in the run up to my deadline before Christmas.

* The post’s title is a P G Wodehouse quote, as well as being a fairly accurate description of my technique…

Dog turds as a metaphor for business banking

 
 

Up until recently, I’d been labouring under the happy illusion that while most banks view their retail customers as somewhat annoying pond scum, you’d generally get a better experience if you were a business customer. That was, until I had the joyous experience of dealing with HSBC (or more specifically, their Merchant Services arm).

I’m in the process of building a site for a client which will (eventually) have an online store. It’s going to be selling high-value items, so the payment gateway needs to be a cut above the PayPal experience. No problem, thought I – the client’s using HSBC as their bank, and HSBC offer a full range of card services through their Merchant Services division.

What I need specifically is the implementation details for the payment gateway so I can wire up the cart software. APN endpoints, dummy account numbers for testing, that kind of thing. So my first stop was the HSBC Merchant Service website. Hopefully they’d have some guidelines about how slick and easy their services are?

No. There’s some newsletters, some Ts&Cs, and a guide to handling offline transactions – but nothing about the online side of things.

Ok, so let’s try their 0800 number. After stabbing semi-randomly at menu options that *seem* close enough, I finally get through to someone who from their accent and the compression on the voice signal is somewhere on the Indian subcontinent.

They start to read me a script, outlining the terms and conditions of card processing and how I must acknowledge that I’ll be liable if I don’t check the card details and so on. I interrupt them, and explain that that’s not *quite* what I’m after – what I really need is some technical information.

They start to read the script again, so I interrupt for a second time to explain that this isn’t quite what I’m after. They start to read the script for a third time.

By this point, I’m interrupting slightly less politely than I was initially. After explaining for a third time that this wasn’t what I’m after, they explain to me that they HAVE to read me the terms and conditions regardless of what I’m after.

Mentally thanking $deity$ that this is an 0800 number, I give in and let them read me the script. Then I explain for a FOURTH time what I’m looking for – and they tell me that they can’t help me and I’ll have to be put through to the Helpdesk.

After what seems like a fortnight of badly-compressed hold music, I end up talking to the Helpdesk. The first thing they ask me for is a merchant number, so I have to explain that I don’t have a merchant number and all I want is information. They can’t help me, because without a merchant number they can’t talk to me, even to provide me with the information I need to decide whether I’m going to be able to use their service in the first place. So we bid each other good day, and I hang up.

By this time, I’m on a mission to get this information if it involves harming someone. So I decide on a lateral approach – my client gave me the email address of their HSBC contact, which has a “globalpay.com” domain. Worth a try, right?

Into the address bar goes http://www.globalpay.com, and back comes a “403.4 – Forbidden: SSL is required to view this resource” error page. Which is a bit strange – but being charitable, I assume that it’s something funky with my browser and try the https version.

At this point Chrome throws up an “invalid server certificate” error, and I give up.

OK, so what’s the bottom line to all of this – apart from my getting a rant off my chest?

From the perspective of a potential customer, this is on a par with walking into an HSBC branch and finding a large steaming dog turd in the middle of the carpet. I doubt if anyone in the HSBC Merchant Service marketing team knows what “cognitive dissonance” is, but I’ve just had a dose of it.

Online payment processing lives and dies by security – yet as an organisation, they a) can’t be bothered to put even a redirect on their primary domain; and b) are happy to have a glaring security error advertised.

In a bid to whittle a bit off the bottom line, the helplines and enquiry numbers have been outsourced to India, and dumbed-down to the extent that their staff can’t deviate from procedures, let alone think laterally to solve a potential customer’s problem.

This doesn’t leave me with much confidence that the experience of being a customer is going to be a good one.

Rather than an image of a large, responsive and highly-secure organisation, my mental picture of HSBC Merchant Services is now a steaming dog turd in the middle of a branch carpet. Which is what I’m going to tell my client when he asks how the site build is going, and what I’ve just told the world (or at least anyone who stumbles across this post).

Tumblr: getting interaction right

 
 

Tumblr is a fascinating example of how to get user generated and community sites right.   Fundamentally it’s a microblogging platform, but I think this sells it very short of the whole picture.  It’s succeeding by taking the interaction patterns that are part of a whole variety of other services, and creating something which is more than the sum of the parts.

Not only is it a compelling user experience, but it’s also become the basis of some very interesting virtual communities.   Amongst a certain subsection of teenagers, Tumblr has gone viral and is getting a significant amount of their online time – in fact, for heavy users, I’d say it’s overtaken Facebook as their “platform of choice”.

Stripping the platform down, I think you can identify six key reasons why Tumblr’s become so “sticky”.

Ease of use

As a microblogging service, it’s trivially easy to post content via the web interface.   There’s a simple rich text interface for text, as well as single-click post options for rich content like photos, audio and video.   There’s also some Tumblr-specific functionality like quoting existing posts, and embedding chat-like Q&A functions – but all of this is done through a very simple dashboard.   There’s the ability to personalise the appearance of your blog through themes, as well.   The content that gets created seems to lean towards the creative end of the spectrum from what I’ve seen – there’s a lot of striking photography being posted alongside the more angsty outpourings of stereotypical blogs posts.

Community

Although each Tumblr blog is a separate property – each one has a unique URL – they’ve very cleverly baked in some community functionality.   You can “follow” other posters Twitter-style so that their posts show up on your dashboard, as well as interacting with their content either by commenting or “liking”.  Liking seems an incredibly simple but powerful function to me – it doesn’t require the amount of effort that writing and posting a comment takes, but it allows you to flag to someone else that you’ve read their content.  Facebook have made this a central part of their user experience as well, and I think that it works powerfully in both directions.   As the author, I know that my postings are being read and assessed; as the liker, I’ve got a quick way of interacting with people without the overhead of a full comment.   There seems to be a trend going on here of enabling lighter-and-lighter touch interactions – responding to an email takes a large amount of effort compared with posting a quick comment, which is more effort than a simple “like” or “digg” or “vote”.

Recycling content

Reblogging is another facet where Tumblr overcomes the silo-like nature of most blogging platforms.   Reblogging content from someone else’s Tumblr is trivially easy, and is bidirectional – the reblogging shows up on the original post as well as on the blog of the reblogger.   By also bringing through comments that rebloggers make – and threading the responses – it turns a basic blogging service into something more akin to a forum; but without the topic-centricity that forums have.   This is something that has been tried many times through aggregated comment networks that attempt to connect many disparate blogs – Tumblr has an advantage in owning the core platform, but nevertheless it’s still a neat implementation of something that never really seemed to work too well previously.

Competition

Being able to create and publish your own content is incentive enough for a significant number of users, but Tumblr has taken a leaf from the book that Flickr wrote when they introduced tumblarity.   It’s a mystical calculation of popularity based on a “secret” algorithm – half of Tumblr’s users take it very seriously and spend time trying to reverse-engineer the calculations in an attempt to game it, while the other half profess to be above such sordid considerations and ignore it.

Whether you love or loathe this kind of ranking, to many it’s a compelling feature – particularly for the teenage Tumblr population.  Having an external metric of your “popularity” is something that seems to appeal to teenagers – and it’s made a richer process by the way in which tumblarity is also measured across different groupings of blogs – UK blogs, male bloggers, music bloggers and so on.

Reinforcement

Even the most elegant user interface and richest feature set is of little use if use is irregular.   A phrase I hear often from my own tame sample set is “keeping up with my dashboard”.  The flow of content from other bloggers, and the flow of their likes and comments, means that there’s a constant reason to check back and see what’s going on – and then post new content while you’re there.   It makes the site very sticky, to the point of overtaking other service like Facebook and Bebo for some users.

Bridges to the real world

The final piece of the usability jigsaw is the real-world aspect.   The sterotypical picture of bloggers are sad, pasty individuals who hide in bedrooms and don’t interact with the real world.  No doubt there are plenty of those on Tumblr, but there’s also a significant portion of users who DO interact offline, to the extent of meeting in real life.   Tumblr facilitate this by listing real-world meetups and providing schwag – stickers, name tags, badges and so on – that they provide free of charge.   Quite what the real world makes of gangs of teenagers descending on public spaces to meet face-to-face for the first time I’m not sure, but it’s a fascinating process to watch being organised by people who’ve never met other than online.

Having said all this, there are the standard questions of how Tumblr’s business model will fare in the long-term.  It’s a free service, it doesn’t carry ads, and there are no premium options that can be purchased.  It can’t be cheap to operate, either – bandwidth and hosting bills must be significant.  Ultimately this will probably be its downfall, assuming that it can manage to ride out changes in fashion – while Tumblr users are undoubtedly passionate about it, they’re also likely to be fairly fickle over the long-term.  But nevertheless it’s a fascinating case study for the kind of interaction patterns that make a service attractive to those kind passionate users.

That was the year that was

 
 

2009 has been a interesting year, mostly in the Chinese sense.  It started with big changes personally (isn’t moving house supposed to be the second most stressful life event?) and it’s ending with big changes professionally.   There’s been a lot of stuff that’s happened that I’m really proud of, a lot of stuff that I’d rather forget.

January is always a bit of a weird month, mainly because of the family ritual of disappearing off to the Lake District for the third week.  It’s not as mad as it sounds – the period immediately after Christmas and New Year is a pretty depressing one, so having a holiday to look forward to makes the dull, dark period a bit more bearable.  Workwise, it seems to have been spent on a project for a Major UK Broadcaster, relaunching their blogs network – a huge undertaking given the sheer number of blogs that they have.

February was the mensis horribilis of the year – two days before we moved house, I was laid out with what turned out to be a gallstone attack.   It’s by far the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced, although so far seems to have been a one-off.  Then pretty much everything that could have gone wrong with the house move did, and we moved in to discover all the things that the useless <redacted> of a surveyor had missed. Oh, and other little surprises like chunks of 15 amp cable in place of what should have been 15 amp fusewire. And so on.  I’m not sure what happened at work.  Something must have done, but my calendar’s not telling.

March seems to have been a blur of dealing with the consequences of moving, and starting the process of undoing 40 years-worth of bodged DIY in the house.   It’s been less renovation and more archaeology – peeling back the layers of wallpaper has been a trip through the fashions of the decade.

April was pretty much taken up with working on what was the biggest project I was involved in during my time at Headshift – building a networking and collaboration platform for a public sector client.  They seemed to embody most of the frustrations of working in the public sector, but with some key individuals who really get it – it’s been fascinating to watch the gradual evolution of the service to become something that’s going to have the potential to be really groundbreaking.

The highlight of May was Howduino in Liverpool – a gathering at FACT of assorted geeks and hackers loosely themed around what you can do with a soldering iron, some innocent toys and a few Arduino controllers.   My contribution was Market Bear, a plush panda with a moving coil meter transplant.  He’s still waiting to be finished off, but there are plans for that – see December…

In June, I got to do something that I’d been wanting to do for a while – take a train across Europe.  The excuse was the Reboot conference in Copenhagen, which meant a journey through  France, Belgium, Germany and Denmark by Eurostar, TGV and Deutsche Bahn sleeper.   I went to bed in Cologne and woke up in Copenhagen, which was an incredibly civilised – and not significantly slower or more expensive – way of travelling compared with the alternative of flying.   It was my second Reboot, having missed 2008 because of work commitments, and made all the better for meeting up with friends that I’d met for the first time in 2007.  Copenhagen is definitely my favourite European city – what *do* the Danes do with their ugly people?  Headshift sent a delegation which included most of the design team, so I got a tour of the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art guided by people who knew about these things.

In July we played host to a group of Hungarian students who were over on an exchange visit.  Workwise, it was the start of what turned into something of a waking nightmare of a project.

August was also pretty grim.  The project turned into a deathmarch, which meant a series of 70-hour weeks trying to bend a content management system to fit ever-changing client requirements.   The end results actually look pretty good, but at the cost of some horrendously complicated back-end mechanisms, and a object lesson in escalation of commitments. Looking back with hindsight, either dumping the original platform or even the project itself would have been far less costly in the long run.

September was conference month.  It started with dConstruct and an excuse to spend a long weekend in Brighton, and continued with Interesting.   This was the third annual Interesting outing, with the difference that this time I was talking as well as listening.   I had the wildly ambitious idea that I could teach the 350 people in Conway Hall Morse Code in 20 minutes using mnemonics – it didn’t quite work, party because I’d completely overlooked the fact that Russell tweaked the format of the day slightly and gave everyone 10 minutes slots; and partly because it was a pretty daft idea to start with.

I don’t actually remember anything about being onstage thanks to the adrenalin rush, but some people who saw it have said kind things (or at least not told me that I sucked too badly).  There are a couple of videos which are almost too embarrassing to watch as I hurl myself about the stage windmilling arms to the accompaniment of 200 party hooters played by the audience.  Originally I’d planned on using chocolates as a communication medium (think Maltesters as dots, and Twixes as dashes), but ran out of time for that.  The chocolate got eaten by the audience anyway – apologies to anyone who was hit by a flying sweet, and to Russell and Anne for being responsible for Arthur’s sugar rush after he helped me finish the kilogram or so of spare Maltesers.

October was another conference, but this time in the audience – Playful 09, again at the Conway Hall.  Billed as a day of “interdisciplinary frolicking”, the loose theme was games and the way we play them – which really doesn’t sum up the delightful eccentricity of the whole thing.  Workwise, October seems to have been pretty miscellaneous – nothing jumps out from my calendar as being particularly high profile.

November was recruitment month.  Rails developers who want full time positions in central London rather than contracts seem to be rarer than hens’ teeth.  On the upside, recruiting new staff also meant buying truckloads of new Apple kit, which is always a pleasure even if it isn’t for yourself.  It’s a great excuse to open the box and inhale a lungful of the “new macbook” smell :-)

December was pretty momentous, because that’s the point when I decided that it was time for a change after two-and-a-half years and to leave Headshift.   While I’m definitely going to miss the people at Headshift – and their clients – and I’m probably going to miss the nicer side of working fulltime in London, it’s going to be fantastic to be able to spend more time with my family in Sheffield.  Professionally, I’ve got various irons in the fire, but regardless of what happens workwise, they’ve put up with me spending great chunks of time away from them for far too long so I’m looking forward to a chance to put them first while getting the chance to spend some time working on some personal projects which have been sitting on the back burner.

Whatever 2010 brings, have a good one.   To quote Steve Jobs (thanks to Aral Balkan for the pointer!) “Stay hungry, stay foolish!”

Time to move on

 
 

After two and a half years, I’ll be leaving Headshift in the New Year.   Put like that, it doesn’t seem all that long, but then again thinking about everything that I’ve worked in that period it feels like a lot longer.   I’ve had the opportunity to work with some incredibly talented people on some utterly unique and fascinating projects, so the decision to go has not been an easy one to make.

What am I going to do?  I’ve got nothing specific planned in terms of jobs at the moment, other than taking a break to pick up on some personal projects that I’ve been playing with for a while.   There are fascinating times ahead – a lot of factors technological, political and societal all seem to be converging together at the moment, so it’s difficult not to get just a little bit excited about some of the possibilities out there.

In the short term, I’ve got three things that I want have a crack at.   The way mobile technology has changed in the last few years is fascinating – the iPhone that I’ve got in my pocket would be almost indistinguishable from magic from the perspective of just 5 years ago.   Actually building apps for the iPhone has a learning curve that’s less steep than vertical – but making the device actually *do* something is incredibly satisfying.  Getting it to do something useful is harder, but at the moment I’m attempting to build an iPhone app for Wordr.  This is a fantastic quirky little site built by Rattle – think Twitter but quicker – and it’s also the perfect use case for a mobile interface.  It also means getting to grips with lots of different facets of Objective-C and the iPhone SDK, so it’s enormous fun.

Then there’s also the plumbing behind the scenes.  I’ve spent a fair amount of time over the last couple of years dabbling with Ruby on Rails, and have probably go to the point where I know enough to be dangerous.  It would be nice to know enough to be safe, so I’m planning to take some time to level up on some of those skills – particularly the way that you can follow a direct path from high-level user specs to low-level code testing with the speccing and testing frameworks that Rails provides.   One of my hobby horses over the last few years has been how bad *most* software development is at delivering something that end-users actually *want* – and the way that Rails can be used to work seamlessly with user experience design is one of the best ways I’ve found of improving the chances of getting it right first time.

And finally, the last few months have seen a real change of attitude around public data.  It used to be that the profit motive was uppermost, and data was treated as some kind of unrefined gold that could be somehow transformed by quasi-private bodies like the Ordnance Survey into something of value.  What actually happened is that these organisations act as a brake on innovation.  Now we’re about to be hit by a tsunami of raw Government data – the people responsible *really* get it.  Raw data is all very well, but it’s visualisation which adds the value – and tools like Processing and the capabilities of cloud computing offer the possibility of doing interesting things with it.   It’s also an excuse to indulge my strange predilection for mutilating innocent cuddly toys – I think perhaps we’re getting to the point of running out of new things to do with a screen and a keyboard, so making data and interaction visible and tangible strikes me as where the real innovation is likely to be.

In some respects, it might seem a bit mad to be doing something like this when the economy is upside down.   Eventually I’m going to have to earn some money again, so obviously I’ll be keeping my eye open for interesting things to do with interesting people.   But if there’s one thing I’ve learnt over the last few years, it’s that these people pop up from the most unexpected places, so I’m not even going to try and guess where or when I might find them.

What's an API and why do I want one?

 
 

[cross-posted from the Headshift blog]

That’s a question I was asked a few days ago by a client.  It’s a fair question, too – there’s no point in building features into systems unless they provide some benefit, so why would you want to spend time and effort doing this?   And for that matter, what exactly IS an API?

The acronym stands for “application programming interface”, which is a typically over-engineered way of saying “means of putting information in and getting information out of your system without having to type it yourself”.   Typically you’ll provide the API with some information, and in return the system will process and spit back some other data.   There’s any number of analogies that you can use, but one of my favourites is the cash machine.   That’s pretty much an API for your bank – you put in your card and enter your PIN, ask the bank for money, and it then dispenses cash.   The information you’re providing is the data on your card and your PIN, while the bank is supplying you with cash and a little paper slip telling you how big your overdraft is.

An “API” for a bank is a good thing if you want to get at your money, but why is it such a big deal for a piece of software?

To start with, very few software systems these days exist in isolation.   If it’s an accounting package, you’ll probably want it to hook up to your bank so you can send and receive payments automatically.  If it’s an ERP system, you’ll find it useful if you could send your purchase orders electronically to your suppliers rather than relying on the steam telephone.   And if you want to tell your customers where your outlets are, you can embed a Google map into your website to plot their locations so that your customers can find you.

All of these are examples of systems using APIs, but it doesn’t stop there.  Increasingly, systems are providing APIs without necessarily having a clear idea of what they’re going to get used for.   In some ways, that’s a violation of my sweeping statement about there being no point building features without having returns – but the point here is that there’s no guarantee that you’re best placed to know *what* those returns might be.

Take Moo, for example.  They print things – stickers, business cards, postcards and so on.   They’ve also got an API.  So what the hell would a printing company do with an API?

The answer is, suprisingly, quite a lot.   Former Headshift colleague Tom Armitage created an application that takes a set of Flickr photographs, calculates their average colours and creates stickers.   They’re very tangible, suprisingly beautiful and almost completely pointless – unless, that is, you’re Moo who make money for every sticker that they print.   Another example is Barcode Sticker-o-Matic that lets you create QR code stickers.   Previously, creating QR codes was a pain, and creating QR code stickers was even more of a pain – but mashing up the two things creates something very much easier and useful.

Another example (and bear with me while I unashamedly pimp some of my own creations) is Twitter.   Their API enables you to create tweets with code, rather than the website.   So I’ve used this to create Twitter bots that tweet the high and low tides of the River Thames; and tweet the values of various stock markets every hour.  The first example is something of a play thing (although as an aside, I actually think you can gain some value to be gained by providing an inanimate object with a “personality”), but the second could conceivably be useful if you needed a peripheral update of how badly the markets were doing.

So much for the entertainment value, but what about the potential business value for providing an API?

There are two things to consider.  The first is that you could potentially make it easier for your customers to deal with you.   If your clients can place orders directly onto your system through your API, that’s going to speed things up.  It’s also going to cut down on errors and duplication, particularly if you can give them information about lead times and stock levels there and then.   And on the assumption that the easier it is to deal with you, the more people will, that should translate through to the bottom line.

The second thing – and to me, the most powerful – is that your customers may want to interact with you in ways that you’d never thought of.   It’s fairly unlikely that Moo realised that they’d end up printing QR codes when they wrote their API, and I’m absolutely sure that Twitter weren’t expecting me to come along and impersonate the River Thames.  And the same probably goes for for huge numbers of other organisations as well.  Imagine if Sainsbury provided an API for their home shopping service.  How long do you think it would be before someone created an iPhone application that allowed you to scan the barcode on the last tin of beans in your cupboard, and automatically add that into your basket, which would then be automatically ordered as soon as the value triggered their free delivery option.  Oh, and interrogated your Google calendar to find the slot when you weren’t planning to be out for evening?   I don’t work for Sainsburys – and they’ve certainly never tried to ask me about what I want from them – but if they provided an API for me to play with, then I’d definitely be having a go at it.

I’m going to make a wild prediction that no corporate software system will ship WITHOUT an API in three years time, and that organisations that can’t provide an interface for their customers are going to find that an increasingly difficult omission to justify.  So the question is not so much, “what’s an API and why do I want one”, as “what’s my API going to do and when can I have it”…

Unblocking the blockers

 
 

doorControversy over whether time spent on social media sites is wasted or productive is nothing new – anyone who’s been around the block for long enough will remember similar discussions around email rollouts.  And no doubt there will have been the same arguments about putting electric telephones on people’s desks.

The problem is often manifested when someone, somewhere, takes the decision to block access to one or other tool.  At best, that reaction is down to a lack of understanding that social tools are becoming increasingly important to the way that people work.   At worst, it’s a symptom of the way IT – particularly in larger organisations – has a tendency to attract a section of the population that can only be described as petty control freaks.  They know who they are…

Going down the blocking route is fraught with problems, though – not least the fact that consistently blocking social media and collaboration tools resembles a game of whack-a-mole.   Block YouTube, and you’ve not stopped Vimeo getting through.  Clamp down on Google Docs, and you’ll still have missed Basecamp.  And so on.   Each different organisation has a different approach, which makes collaborating across organisational boundaries trickier that it otherwise should be.

Steph Gray, who’s the Social Media Manager at the Department for Innovation, Universities and Skills is on the front line of this – it’s pretty damn difficult to innovate if the innovative tools are off-limits.   So he’s come up with the Social Media Test Suite, which runs you rapidly through a selection of common social media service and tests access to each one via your current internet connection.

By aggregating the results across a range of organisations, he’s going to be able to build up a better picture of what’s available from where – and hopefully identify the best and worst of practices.  Although it’s aimed primarily at the public sector, there’s no reason why commercial organisations can’t be involved as well – after all, the need for collaboration and innovation is common regardless of sector.

[cross-posted from the Headshift blog]

The (white) elephant in the room

 
 

ElephantPoliticians and IT usually go together like fish and bicycles.   The story of public-sector IT in the UK is generally one of grandiose over-budget failures at the top end of the scale, and low-level outsourced inadequacies at the other.  The same is also true in the private sector, of course, but the public sector situation gets a higher profile by the fact that it’s “our” money that’s being wasted and it’s more difficult to sweep the disasters under the carpet.

The litany of disasters is a long one – the Child Support Agency’s IT system was “one of the worst public administration scandals in modern times” according to the Public Accounts Committee, while the NHS’s Connecting For Health project is seven times over-budget and more than two years behind schedule.  And that’s before we start trying to keep track of every email sent and webpage visited in the mother of all surveillance databases.

So why do we keep letting this happen?

Earlier this week, the Conservatives launched the results of a study they commissioned last year from Dr Mark Thompson of the Judge Business School in Cambridge.   The headlines were startling – government could save at least £600m a year, according to the report, and it promises an end to “IT white elephants”.

[The text of the report itself doesn't seem to be available via the Tories' website, but I've got a copy which I can email on if you're interested.]

There’s also some very interesting detail buried away below the headline figures.   One of the key recommendations is that there should be a cap on project size – no contract should be worth more than £100m.   Personally, that seems a fairly arbitrary figure to me – I’m not convinced that knocking a nought of the end of the contract value will make them any easier to deliver – but it does point to an increasingly widely-held belief that the days of huge projects are over.

Of course, a recession is going to make justifying telephone-number budgets very difficult even if big projects were always successful – but history suggests that when projects fail, big projects fail bigger.   I think the trend over the next few years is going to be towards projects on a much, much smaller scale.  Rather than taking years to spend millions on massive systems implementations that attempt to solve every problem simultaneously, instead organisations are going to try smaller-scale point solutions that are focussed on improving the way people *actually* work together.

I’m also beginning to think that there’s actually a finite limit to the size of a project, beyond which it’s impossible to achieve the stated benefits.   Some systems are just too big, and too complex, to be controlled by human brains which have been wired up be evolution to make a series of “can I eat it, or do I run away from it?” decisions.  And many situations just don’t lend themselves to a one-size-fits-all solution, particularly if the solution is being defined in isolation from the actual end-users who will be subjected to it – something that seems to sum up the IT programmes in the Health Service.

Of course, changing the culture of Government IT is going to be a huge job given the massive vested interests at play – the huge suppliers that seem to be a key part of the problem are not going to just walk away from their potential revenues.   Bureaucracies move slowly, and government bureaucracy moves slower than most.   But it’s encouraging to see signs that the status quo is being seriously questioned by a potential future ruling party – and hopefully it might influence the current decision makers in the meanwhile.

(cc-licensed photo by huangjiahui)

Crackberries in the Oval Office

 
 

I suppose it might just be a convenient excuse to kick the habit, but I really don’t get why it’s necessary for Barack Obama to hand over his Blackberry when he enters the Oval Office:

Lose the BlackBerry? Yes He Can, Maybe

For years, like legions of other professionals, Mr. Obama has been all but addicted to his BlackBerry. The device has rarely been far from his side — on most days, it was fastened to his belt — to provide a singular conduit to the outside world as the bubble around him grew tighter and tighter throughout his campaign.

“How about that?” Mr. Obama replied to a friend’s congratulatory e-mail message on the night of his victory.

But before he arrives at the White House, he will probably be forced to sign off. In addition to concerns about e-mail security, he faces the Presidential Records Act, which puts his correspondence in the official record and ultimately up for public review, and the threat of subpoenas. A decision has not been made on whether he could become the first e-mailing president, but aides said that seemed doubtful.

I can understand the need to ensure that Presidential communications are kept for posterity, but this seems an incredibly heavy-handed way of doing so. Presumably the White House is sufficiently advanced to have moved on from carbon copies to electronic documents – so how is email any different?

Organising in 3D

 
 

This has been kicking around at the back of my subconscious for a while, partly born of frustration with organisation systems like GTD. It’s not that there’s fundamental flaws with them, so much as there are fundamental limitations to how organised I can be. That’s partly why I don’t have a lot of time for 43 Folder-style blogs – the constant striving towards GTD nirvana strikes me as too reminiscent of Catholic attitudes to sin. By any objective standard I seem to be reasonably well-organised, as far as it’s possible to be self-aware of this – but comparison with the true devotees of the One True Way To Organisation just leave me feeling depressed at how slovenly my pile of “stuff to look at” has become.

Then I came across isochrones – geographical maps with a temporal overlay – so they can answer questions such as “how long will it take me to get to point A from point B?” The best examples I’ve seen were produced by MySociety, and were “heatmaps” of travelling time via public transport which you could also overlay housing costs. These enabled you to ask multi-variable questions like “where can I afford to live within an hour of work?”

I started wondering whether there are implied isochrones around daily activities. If you look at someone’s desk – or pretty much any space, for that matter – the more important something is, the closer it’s kept. My iPhone is generally never more than an arm’s length away, because it’s my primary means of communication and access to my email, calendar, contacts, to-do list and the kind of photographs that would in earlier times be kept in a wallet. I might not be able to lay my hands on a pen unless I’m at my desk, because I tend not to physically write anything when I’m not sat down.

And when it comes to work, the same patterns apply. Working materials are directly in front of us, and the more useful the article the more likely that it’ll be within easy reach. That also applies to the tchozkes that we surround ourselves with, too – photos of the kids are usually pinned up in clear view. [I can't find the reference at the moment, but when the UK's Department of Work and Pensions embarked on a pointy-haired programme of "efficiency improvements" by enforcing at HR-driven-disciplinary-point a "clear desk policy", the thing that *really* upset people wasn't the fact that they were being told to keep their pencils in a drawer. Instead, it was the insistence on tidying away the kind of personal items that soften the right angles of work environments - the photos, the monitor pets, the post-it notes with shopping list-type scribbles. Oh, and being told where the right place to keep a banana was.]

Unimportant stuff gets pushed away. If you suddenly need to find something that you’ve not used or thought about in weeks, the chances are it’s going to be *under* something. In fact, if it’s in clear view, the chances are you’re going to overlook it, because we’re almost conditioned to expect finding something lost to be more complicated than it turns out to be. Reference materials are filed, if you’re lucky and organised. But either way, immediate personal space is populated by the important and relevant.

All of which is a (very) roundabout way of wondering if we could take this one stage further, and use proximity as a metaphor for urgency in an organisational tool. What if you could use physical – or virtual – distance as a means of organisation? Imagine a system where tasks existed in a (probably pseudo) three-dimensional, and gradually encroached as the urgency became greater. The larger something loomed, the more important it is – and reprioritisation would be done by “pushing” items away, back into the future as it were.

I suppose that categorisation could probably be overlaid, as well – imagine work tasks raining down from above, while personal stuff sneaked in from left field. Switching context from one to the other could be as simple as moving your head to the side, to bring a new context into view. And if physical location could be tied into this somehow, you’d have a situation where the context of tasks could be directly related to where you were at that moment – so work tasks would only rain down in work, and the list of things you were supposed to pick up from the shops would only appear when some kind of near-field trigger alerted the system to the fact that you were entering the mall.

Would it work? I’m not sure – three-dimensional interfaces haven’t exactly been a roaring success outside of the games industry. And interacting with the physical environment would be dependent on the sensor infrastructure being in place, which seems unlikely any time soon – at least not until Jacqui Smith turns the UK into Minority Report. It would be fun trying, though.

 
 

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Hello, I'm Tim. I'm a geek who builds online and mobile software and also takes photographs and messes around with technology. This is my personal website.

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