Tags: dadhacker

И ещё hate про скрам

http://www.dadhacker.com/blog/?p=1037

В моей предыдущей конторе на каждодневные Stand Ups приходил товарищ, который тусовался на митинге, делая несерьёзное лицо, а когда очередь доходила до него заявлял - вчера для вашего проекта я ничего не сделал и сегодня ничего не сделаю и уходил.


I don’t know about you, but I don’t have velocity all the time when I work. My working style is more like: Fidget for a while, noodling with things until they appear to work, re-writing and re-designing and throwing stuff away as the real problems become clear. I don’t appear to make progress for a while, then stuff comes together and starts working.

Копаю глубоко :)


There are the Agile and Extreme folk, pixie-like and lighter than air, quick to pair up and argue politely over every semicolon. The basic model is to scrum and crystallize incrementally on a customer-guided path until the customer gets sick of all the churn, burndowns, velocity graphs, mocks and God damned flying Nerf rockets, cuts a check and tries to pick up the pieces once the fairies have been bribed to leave the building. These shops might be fun in the short term, but in the long term they’re about as stable as 60′s commune farming practices; you hear about the success stories, not so much about the ones felled by dysentery and bad drugs and unstable personalities. But you could do worse, lots worse.


http://www.dadhacker.com/blog/?p=1079

Просто прекрасно

Напомнило мне, как я спал после обеда на работе в БелХарде (Kyriba). Хоть 20 минут, но нужно было вздремнуть - иначе никак.

Совмещал, конечно, на 4-5 курсах и работу и учёбу, в офисе вроде как нужно быть 8 часов, на лекциях, тащить лабы и курсовые проекты, сна категорически не хватало.


http://www.dadhacker.com/blog/?p=1126


The problem with naps at work is where to take them. If you have your own office with a door that locks, you’re golden. If you’re in a warren of cubes you’re pretty much out of luck unless your cow-orkers are cool with seeing your feet stick out from under your desk. In the latter situation you also run the risk that someone not in the know will come by, spot your unmoving feet and call 911.

“Operator? One of my cow-orkers is dead!”

“Cow what?”

“Never mind, come quickly!”

… and when you get up and groggily try to explain that you were just taking a quick 20 minute schnozz, you get a face-full of double-ought buckshot because “Shit! He was daid and he’s gone an’ turned into a zombie!” Ka-pow, that sucks.