“The doctor said I’m really skinny,” my son says. “I’m in the 75th percentile for weight but I’m in the 94th percentile for height.” “That’s not a really big difference,” I say. “She said I could be 6-foot-4 by the time I’m 20.” “I’d like to be 6-foot-4.” “I wouldn’t,” he says. “I’m going to stand out everywhere.” “I’m 6 feet, maybe a little over, and I’m taller than most people, but if I was 6-foot-4, I’d be definitively taller than most people.” “Exactly,” he says. “I’ll be a freak.” “6-foot-4 isn’t a freak. Girls love tall guys.” “I’ll be an outcast giant.” Read more →
July 2009
Lost or Not Found
My son can’t find his cell phone . . . “You should glue it to your hand,” I say, “since you lose it at least once a day.” “No, I don’t,” he says. “Once a week, then.” “Okay, but I never lose it. I just can’t find it at the time I need it.” Read more →
Twitter: 2009-07-02
RT @Lileks: There's not a man alive who's ever said "I have enough fireworks." # Read more →
Organic Organizing
A problem-solving leader’s entire orientation is toward creating an environment in which everyone can be solving problems, making decisions, and implementing those decisions, rather than personally solving problems, making decisions, and implementing those decisions. — Gerald M. Weinberg, Becoming a Technical Leader Read more →
Twitter: 2009-07-01
Office email: "Refrigerators being cleaned out tonight. Please take home anything you'd like to keep." OK. Going to stock up right now… # At a s/w demo, a user asks: "What are inheritable user permissions? Does that mean if I die, my permissions go to someone else?" # Read more →
I Remember it Had a Yammy Aftertaste
Appearances Matter
When you’re reinventing yourself in a new career, first impressions are even more important because everyone secretly doubts that you have what it takes to be successful. Without waiting for you to explain why you’re qualified, people will make a snap judgment based on your appearance and demeanor. Do you look and sound like someone who does this job? — WSJ.com Read more →
Pesto Pete
Leftovers from a catered lunch meeting found their way into the break room refrigerator. I pull out a tin of pasta . . . “Look,” I say to the woman watching me, “this one has my name right on it! ‘Pesto Pete,’ that’s what they call me.” “That says ‘Pesto Penne,’” she says. “Close enough!” Read more →