tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-224418472011-12-15T02:42:20.973Z<b>Who Is Joe Bloggs?</b> Joe Bloggs is a software development group leader working for a small IT services company based in Reading in the UK. His team is involved in all stages of the development life-cycle. Joe Bloggs is a pseudonym of Joseph Bloggs.<br /><br /> Meet Joe Bloggs started life as a feature on TechBookReport (<a href="http://www.techbookreport.com">http://www.techbookreport.com</a>)Contrariannoreply@blogger.comBlogger371100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-7833144509722879942008-07-03T13:33:00.002+01:002008-07-03T13:39:14.204+01:00

I'm scratching my head and trying to make sense of the mess of a diagram in front of me. It's the weirdest and most convulted object hierarchy I've seen since I last took a look at the Outlook object model.Colin, who's been reading the comics again, wants to know what design patterns they've used.'It's the spaghetti pattern,' I explain.He nods appreciatively. 'Thought so,' he agrees.I pick the

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-32380447205276302132008-01-03T22:53:00.000Z2008-01-03T22:56:50.931Z

I just know that when the Boss rings me up and nonchalantly says 'Joe, have you got a minute,' that someone, somewhere has screwed up. Is it one of my team again? Has Colin crashed the corporate Mainframe again? Or has Rice told his uncle, who happens to be the CEO, some juicy bit of scandal? Or is it Alison and another restraining order to stop her sexually harassing some attractive young female

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-61833739178696713562007-10-09T12:04:00.000+01:002007-10-09T12:07:00.082+01:00

There we are, one minute a couple of us are playing around with Google's Web Toolkit, and the next the Boss looks over our shoulders and starts jumping up and down excitedly. No, it's not his bladder problem flaring up again. It's not even because Alison's 'accidentally' elbowed him in the gonads again. It's worse than that, it's because he's seen nice colours on the screen.So, a week later

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-67362648086536329122007-07-16T14:19:00.000+01:002007-07-16T14:23:03.326+01:00

I'm still deep in debug mode when I pick the phone up. Any hope of keeping track of the problem disappears as soon as the Boss starts jabbering.'They've move the whelp meeting a day forward,' he reports breathlessly.'Whelp? What the…'He sounds exasperated. 'Don't tell me you've forgotten?''OK. I won't tell you.''So you've forgotten…''You said not to tell you.''Damn it, Joe,' he snaps. 'Saving

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-42771046795215216372007-05-30T11:34:00.000+01:002007-05-30T11:37:18.964+01:00

'Joe, who's Arabella Stockingfiller?' Rice asks, calling across the office.'Birthday card?' I ask casually.Alison perks up. 'Arabella Stockingfiller,' she repeats softly, 'she sounds really hot. Does anyone know what she looks like?''Never heard of her,' Rice admits.Alison's got the scent. 'Maybe she's on MySpace,' she mumbles hopefully. 'I really like the sound of her…''She's a unit test,' I say

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-10980138774795246122007-04-02T12:05:00.000+01:002007-04-02T12:08:27.775+01:00

The laughter stops as soon as I enter the Boss's office. He and the Bean Counter look like guilty school boys caught with a copy of Debbie Does Didcot. 'Joe, good of you to join us,' the Boss tells me, waving me to the chair in front of his desk. The Bean Counter is sitting to one side, red-faced but trying to recover some decorum. 'As if I had any choice,' I mumble. 'We've been thinking,' the

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-60564928064962165442007-03-20T10:17:00.000Z2007-03-20T10:20:14.710Z

There I am just getting ready for another painful debug session when in walks Kevin, fresh back from his training course. It's a miracle of course because we don't have a training budget. These days we don't even have a books budget, but who am I to complain? It's only the fact that Kevin enters every competition on every web site he visits that finally paid off. A one-day no expense incurred

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1170852458849426542007-02-07T12:34:00.000Z2007-02-07T12:47:38.866Z

I drift off in the middle of the monologue. Somewhere at the back of my mind I realise that the Boss has worked out how to launch his browser again. Deleting the icon on his desktop could only stop him for so many weeks... Anyway he's in the middle of a long speech on project governance when I lose the will to live. Governance, stake-holders, ITIL, SEI, requirements, ITIL, business cases... It

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1168292868772153312007-01-08T21:46:00.000Z2007-01-08T21:47:48.790Z

Here I am, first day back at work and I'm ready with my New Year resolutions: I will think better of my colleagues, particularly those in management. I should be forgiving of their occasional lapses in competence and judgement. Their annoying little habits should be respected as indications that each is a rounded and full human being. I must resist gold-plating applications by including

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1160997457405745052006-10-16T12:13:00.000+01:002006-10-16T12:17:37.633+01:00

The first thing I notice about the message from the boss is the subject line: 'Private and Confidential'. The next thing I notice is that it's addressed to the entire company. Like everyone else in the organisation I open it immediately and read:I feel that now is the time for me to address the rumours that have been flying around the company since I recently joined. Yes, it is true that I am

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1156250338347977702006-08-22T13:37:00.000+01:002006-08-22T13:38:58.366+01:00

‘Joe,’ says the Boss, ‘are you excited by Mustang?’Is this a trick question? Mustang? Is that some kind of car. ‘Well…’‘Tiger, Mustang, Dolphin,’ he recites the list with a look of rapture on his face.‘Java 5, 6 and 7,’ I say, finally making sense of what he’s on about.‘Or Longhorn and Vista.’Now he’s switched to Windows. He’s looking at me with expectation but frankly I don’t what the hell he’s

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1148647783943043792006-05-26T13:46:00.000+01:002006-05-26T13:49:43.966+01:00

It all happens so quickly. One minute the Boss is living off the fat of the land – mainly long, boozy lunches with tools vendors and regular liaisons in the stationery cupboard with his 'finance' contact from the accounts department – and the next he's out on his ear. In the end it wasn't dubious tools contracts, adulterous behaviour on company time, late delivery on projects, zero staff morale

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1145570850351286782006-04-20T23:07:00.000+01:002006-04-20T23:07:59.563+01:00

Sometimes it's just too easy. Here I am sitting opposite the Boss, in his office, delivering some timely advice and I can see his face drop and his morale sagging away. I never realised before the true power of statistical analysis.He draws in breath slowly and then looks up from the graph I presented a minute earlier. 'It doesn't look good,' he admits quietly.'No, I suppose it doesn't,' I

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1143628545608692542006-03-29T11:33:00.000+01:002006-03-29T11:35:45.623+01:00

I hate it when the Boss starts talking about best practices in software engineering. He thinks it makes him sound like he knows what he's talking about. We think it makes him sound like he's been bought lunch by a software vendor or he wandered onto a techie web site whilst looking for smut. This time he's decided that code reviews are exactly what we need. I explain patiently that code reviews

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1143116884092285052006-03-23T12:26:00.000Z2006-03-23T12:28:04.500Z

I know it's going to be bad when the lovely Pam, from HR, apologies in advance. It is, she whispers, part of the big push into government and local authority contracts. Diversity training is a must, Sir Arthur Minton is insisting on it and without some evidence that we've made some moves on it there's no chance of those big bucks government IT disasters (sorry, contracts), coming our way. So,

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1142852856766365972006-03-20T11:07:00.000Z2006-03-20T11:07:36.823Z

I should have guessed that something was up when the Boss offered to buy me lunch. The warning signs were all there: big smiles, good humour, generosity. But I missed it and one meal in a curry-house and a round of drinks and I was putty in his hands. I know, I'm cheap. It scares me sometimes just how cheap I am, but there you go. So, there I am at the end of the meal agreeing to do some work

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1142503096331819462006-03-16T09:56:00.000Z2006-03-16T09:58:16.343Z

6.45am: Years of routine mean I wake up at 6.45 am on the dot, even when I'm working at home (for the first time in months) and there's no alarm clock belching electronically into my ears. Get up automatically and go downstairs to make tea for me and Mrs Bloggs, who's not working at home today, unfortunately. 7.00am: On my way back up to the bedroom, with two cups of tea, decide to switch my PC

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1142338685352774982006-03-14T12:17:00.000Z2006-03-14T12:18:05.366Z

Looks like cost-cutting is still on the agenda. After our last little bit of a spat on open sauce I thought things would go quiet, but apparently not. I get copied on an email from Paul, our CFO, to the Boss, asking about our software purchasing policy. Particularly with respect to shareware. The Boss corrects him by saying that open source is freeware not shareware, except when it's not. Or

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1142245093326075772006-03-13T10:17:00.000Z2006-03-13T10:18:13.356Z

I get the phone call to go upstairs to meet the Boss five minutes after Rice has a quiet word and just two minutes after the results of a quick Google roll off the printer. Sometimes I think employing Rice was a stroke of genius… As expected I find the Boss with the lovely Pam at his side. They're both waiting pensively and I know enough to shut the door after me when I enter his office. After

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1141993486382431652006-03-10T12:23:00.000Z2006-03-10T12:24:46.403Z

If the tone of the presentation is so upbeat, and the message so positive, how is it that I look around the room and see nothing but boredom on the faces around me? Even the Boss, sitting at the back of the room so that he can keep an eye on the unruly elements at the front, is finding it had to fake enthusiasm. Of course the person delivering the presentation, a very positive young lady from one

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1141910096448716792006-03-09T13:11:00.000Z2006-03-09T13:14:56.470Z

I'm getting worried about Colin. He's getting fidgety. He keeps mumbling to himself. I suspect he's looking for another job. There's a clue in the proxy server web logs - they show that he's spending hours each day trawling job sites. That and the fact that he left fifteen copies of his CV in the printer. I like Colin. Sure he's a deeply troubled man with a history of substance abuse (chocolate

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1141817336906738112006-03-08T11:27:00.000Z2006-03-08T11:28:56.920Z

First thing on Monday morning I bump into Pam from HR. I haven't spoken to her since she foisted a millionaire's moronic off-spring on us as part of a 'community outreach' program. We gave the brat a fast internet connection and fifteen gallons of cola for a week. He was happy and the company scored the contract with his dad. Now we're faced with having an on-site customer with us while HR tries

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1141732250051259822006-03-07T11:49:00.000Z2006-03-07T11:50:50.066Z

I've been thinking,' the Boss tells me. Alarm bells start going off at this point. I'm sitting in his office, with a strong cup of coffee and a pile of bug reports that he's asked me in to discuss. Most of these reports are, well, bollocks with a smidgen of crap thrown in to leaven the mixture. 'About what?' I venture finally, realising that stony silence is going to get me nowhere. 'Why don't

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1141647660655318772006-03-06T12:20:00.000Z2006-03-06T12:21:00.680Z

Pam, from HR, is smiling at me hopefully. She's trying hard to be persuasive. I'm doing my best to resist. 'Come on, Joe,' she says, 'it's part of our corporate community outreach scheme. It'll make you look good upstairs.' 'Nothing can make me look good upstairs,' I mumble. 'This will,' she promises. 'What can go wrong? You get a bright school-kid in the team for a week. He's happy, the

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1141301653131573672006-03-02T12:13:00.000Z2006-03-02T12:14:13.146Z

I get a bad feeling as soon as the new marketing guy walks into the room. It's not the bright pink shirt, it's not the flashy gold cuff-links or even the Hugh Grant hairstyle and fluttering eye-lashes. No. Any man who can bounce in to a meeting wearing a name badge with 'Tarquin Standish St Hilaire' stamped on it a big bold letters is immediately suspect. 'Hi, Joe!' he announces, rushing across

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1141219162609918782006-03-01T13:17:00.000Z2006-03-01T13:19:22.650Z

Looking at the list of bug reports in front of me makes me despair of the human race. Again. What I've got are the reports that tech support have forwarded to my development team 'to fix'. Reading these reports it's clear that it's the users that need fixing… And after they've been fixed maybe we can start on the tech support people … Software: Expenses System.Problem Report: The screens on the

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1141134720423643202006-02-28T13:47:00.000Z2006-02-28T13:52:00.436Z

Sometimes there's no sanctuary. I seek refuge in the kitchen so that I can escape the religious war that's just flared up again in the office. People are almost coming to blows over whether it's better to indent code using spaces or hard tabs. Alison hates tabs and has just reformatted code that Kevin has spent a week getting to look nice in his editor. It's his code, only he works on it, nobody

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1141034060224412632006-02-27T09:53:00.000Z2006-02-27T09:54:21.136Z

Somebody, somewhere has woken up to the fact that developer morale is low. It's gone beyond rock-bottom and it's still sinking. I get hauled in to meet HR and I'm asked what we do about it. My first suggestion of cash bonuses, (used unmarked notes only), is rejected. My second option of salary increases is rejected. My third suggestion of spending a day team-building in the pub is rejected (we

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1140782318811851122006-02-24T11:57:00.000Z2006-02-24T11:58:38.830Z

'OK,' I say finally. 'Let me absolutely clear on what the requirement is. You want us to create a web front end to a legacy application running on an elderly Pentium II server. You want users to be able to access this application in real-time over a dial-up VPN connection. You would also like the front end, which should be Internet Explorer, to be able to query a stock control system on a

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1140692695202956462006-02-23T11:04:00.000Z2006-02-23T11:04:55.220Z

Looking at the documentation in front of me I realise that I can afford to be generous with its authors. The BUST update has finally crawled to an end, almost. I'm pleased because my project planning was almost spot-on, apart from the units error (I had reckoned on 2 weeks, and Kevin and Rice had worked hard to bring it in with only a minor change of plan from weeks to months). And in that two

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1140610738367320202006-02-22T12:18:00.000Z2006-02-22T12:18:58.380Z

It's a Monday morning and I really don't need this. An email from our chief bean counter. And it's copied to the Boss …: ==============================================Dear Joe I had lunch with Ian Smith, the Director of Technology at Barricade Network Services, at the weekend (after I'd thrashed him at a round of golf, mind you). Anyway he was enthusing about how his developers were saving the

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1140453216799839852006-02-20T16:32:00.000Z2006-02-22T12:18:01.630Z

I get the bad news second-hand. Colin wanders over to my desk with the kind of grin on his face that makes most people shudder and step back. 'Someone just been killed?' I ask him. A good car accident always puts Colin in a good mood. 'Not yet,' he replies cryptically, then looks back over his shoulder. I can see why Colin's so cheery. Terence Didlock, our very own code policeman is striding

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1140191119228814912006-02-17T15:45:00.000Z2006-02-22T12:17:48.720Z

The story so far … Crispin, (the 40ish Cambridge graduate of palaeontology and ex-Rastafarian who happens to be the CEO's nephew), has been recruited as a junior developer, in spite of the fact that he knows sod all about programming. There's no training budget, but he's got an internet connection and a public library card … I'm sitting here trying to drown out the noise but it's getting harder

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1140097916983736552006-02-16T13:47:00.000Z2006-02-22T12:17:35.173Z

So here's the deal. Bill, the contractor has been banished, fated to return to the poisonous bosom of his family. Lexia, our dream candidate for the programmer's job left in Bill's wake, has turned us down flat once she found out that we're two years late shipping a web-services enabled information system based on a COBOL back end that was cranked together from notes left by Charles Babbage

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1139995976652040432006-02-15T09:32:00.000Z2006-02-22T12:17:19.083Z

==============================================To: JoeFrom: Pam Hiya Joe, I know you've got an interview for junior developer lined up next week with someone called Lexia McGubbin - I've seen the CV too (and I'm sure that modelling swimwear has nothing to do with her being short-listed). I'm sure you've got it all under control but I wouldn't be doing my job as hr if I didn't remind you of

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1139949484618863812006-02-14T20:37:00.000Z2006-02-22T12:17:08.113Z

Bill’s had too much to drink, which is fair enough, it is his leaving do after all. ‘How much have we got left in the kitty?’ he asks, downing another mouthful of lager shandy with blackcurrant. ‘Four quid.’ He looks disappointed. ‘Is that all?’ I nod. ‘It is just the two of us,’ I remind him. ‘Do you think anybody else is going to turn up?’ he asks hopefully. ‘I don’t think so. It’s been

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22441847.post-1139919896354778242006-02-14T12:24:00.000Z2006-02-22T12:16:52.296Z

It's another one of those painful visits from the Boss. As usual he's plonked himself down in the nearest seat and coughs loudly in case I haven't noticed him invading my space. He waits a second and then announces, loud enough so the rest of the development team can hear: ‘I think we ought to rewrite the system in UML’. UML? Sweet Jesus, who let his browser stray from hornyjailbait.com? He does

Contrariannoreply@blogger.com1