Only boyscouts like swiss army knives. Everyone else thinks they’re crap.
Sticking with my theme of not caring about the market today, I’m going to go on a small rant that may or may not be intricately related to what I’m doing at my job this week.
You see, some of you business owners out there have this curious fascination with “technology.” Technology is like a mythological beast to you, which brings rain, gold, and sometimes a combination of the two (golden rain).
There’s only one thing you love as much as technology, and that’s secrecy. Secrecy is sexy. It sets you apart, differentiates you from the competition. Nothing is so attractive as “secret methods” to sell to your target market.
And when you marry those two great loves together, you get a bastard child so terrible I can barely look at it without vomiting: internal software.
Internal software is the epitome of love affairs in your modern day firm. It takes some menial process, analysis, or intellectual product, and codifies it with the goal of giving absolute control of that action to upper management, while at the same time retaining the mystique of the process. Which of course means that the development of the code to run this system is typically left to the oversight of as many of two individuals, who work on it when they aren’t busy playing minesweeper or reading Wikipedia.
As if the development of such a tool weren’t already hopelessly facing against the odds, these secret technologies tend to accumulate as the diversity of the firm grows. Think of them as strands of fiber; you have thirty or forty unique jobs you’d like to do, which should all be accomplished by this technology, which do to its sensitivity only a few trustworthy men and women will ever be allowed to work on.
Individually, each of these threads may work fine. However, in the process of weaving them into a tapestry, it is very unlikely that “best practices” of software design are going to be utilized. Think object oriented programming or function creation.
You get people with a tentative understanding of programming, who otherwise would not be working in any business that specializes in computer software, writing code. And they tend to write code by hardcoding and forcing outcomes, which makes the tools very fragile, rather than building sophisticated, malleable programs that can handle a wide arrangement of uses.
Basically, as each of these threads is forced to interweave with one another, they tangle and fray, and time and the elements weather them into a nearly unnavigable Gordian knot. Any usefulness of solving this knot is suspect, as the investment of time needed surely outways simply starting over from scratch.
In summary, I am staring at just such a travesty now. And like Alexander the Great, I feel as if I have little choice but to simplify the whole mess by cleaving it in two, much to the sorrow and outrage of the priests who have presented it to me.
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