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The personal site of Tom Coates, co-founder of Product Club
On being adult about childish behaviour #8230;
I promised myself I wouldn #8217;t get involved in the whole debate about Adria Richards, but as it drags on and more and more articles are written about it, I find myself troubled by the extent of the polarisation going on.
On one side we have the people who are arguing fundamentally that Adria Richards over-reacted to what appear to be a number of clumsy and childish jokes #8211; jokes that (from what I #8217;ve read at least) appear to be of the #8216;he #8217;s got a big dongle #8217; variety. My opinion? Yeah, I think she massively over-reacted, made a performance out of the whole thing that was entirely unnecessary and got a couple of people told off at a conference who maybe over-stepped the line but probably didn #8217;t deserve that kind of public kicking.
On the other side we have the people arguing that Adria was treated absolutely聽abhorrently聽afterwards and that the sheer depth and violence of the things said about her and thrown at her #8211; the volume of the vitriol she had to experience #8211; went way beyond blunt sexism. These people are arguing that this demonstrates structural misogyny, clear discrimination, the horrible consequences that meet a woman who prominently stands up and makes a stand. My opinion? Yeah, that all makes sense too. She was indeed treated awfully. All of us working in the industry should be ashamed of the whole situation. It #8217;s been hideous, horrific. Beyond that. It #8217;s morally wrong.
But here #8217;s the bit that puzzles me. Both of these positions seem to me to be entirely correct and both of them seem to be completely compatible as well. It seems to me to be a vanishingly small proportion of people under fifty who would be legitimately offended by a big dongle joke. It also seems to me to be a tiny proportion of the people in the industry who seriously think that death threats, rape threats and massive sexist comments are something to be encouraged.
So why has it all become such an ungodly fight? We seem to have approached a point where any actual sensible discussion of questions raised by this situation is borderline impossible. The positions are polarising to such an extent that鈥攔ather than just accepting what the vast majority of us must surely know to be true鈥攅veryone #8217;s being pushed, or pushing themselves, to the edges. The arguments now appear to be that either Adria fucked up and for this reason she deserved to get rape threats, or that since she got rape threats聽she cannot possibly have fucked up.
These are both ridiculous positions! These are insane positions! These are totally irrational positions! In our attempts to find meaning in this event we #8217;ve got people trying to find a neat narrative that wraps everything up elegantly and cleanly. But such an attempt is doomed to fail here. No one comes out of this cheerfully. There is clumsy human self-importance on the one side and a great swathe of unpleasant, unwashed, dickish, abusive and disgusting morons on the other.
Now don #8217;t get me wrong. I #8217;d never for one minute suggest that Adria #8217;s actions and the responses to them are commensurately awful. The horrific attacks on her remain beyond the pale, where her behaviour (in my opinion at least) was merely a bit eye-roll worthy. It #8217;s just important to remember that the extent of the venom she #8217;s had to endure does not in itself make her an infallible saint #8211; any more than the error she made in any way justified the demonisation she #8217;s experienced.
The world is more serious and flawed and nuanced than these narratives would make us believe. The tech industry is not 90% full of sexist arseholes desperate to drag all women down. Nor is it a magical meritocracy in which all the right people achieve riches. Over-simplifying things to this degree makes it harder to solve the problems that we have as a culture. It makes it harder for us to fix things. We can #8217;t afford to just react like this. It helps no one. We have to be adult about childish behaviour.
On Falling Over #8230;
In 2008 I moved to the US and within six months I鈥檇 paralysed my left arm doing something stupid in the office. For a while I didn鈥檛 know if it was ever going to recover. It was one of the most disturbing experiences of my life and it happened in the most trivial of ways.
I first published this piece on Medium in August 2012 and only moved it over to in March 2013. If you #8217;re interested in seeing it in its original context you can do so here: On Falling Over.
I鈥檇 moved over from the UK with some trepidation. I鈥檇 always wanted to spend some time living in America鈥擨鈥檇 spent so much of my time online with SF natives in the nineties鈥攂ut the mechanism I鈥檇 found to make the move was less than perfect. I鈥檇 found myself in a job that was relatively well-protected but working in an organisation that I couldn鈥檛 stand. I鈥檇 had some other鈥攊n retrospect rather better鈥攐pportunities, but I鈥檇 turned them down for a solid prospect. And then I鈥檇 delayed the move several times because of the scale of the commitment and my feelings towards it.
I鈥檇 have to work at this company for at least another two years in the US (potentially a lot longer), and I had absolutely no idea what the job would be like once I got here. It felt like the most grown-up thing I鈥檇 ever done. I was committing to do something I thought I鈥檇 hate, purely to be in the right situation a few years down the line.
Once I arrived though, things picked up pretty much immediately. The area I was working in was good and I got quite a lot of agency to improve and refine it. Within a few months, I was having a great time #8211; working with clever, fun people in a familial, creative environment and on stuff that seemed actually important and interesting. I鈥檇 be working myself to death, of course #8211; so much that I鈥檇 still not managed to get out of the corporate housing that I鈥檇 been placed in when I arrived in the country. Sixteen hour days were not uncommon. But honestly, it didn鈥檛 seem to matter.
One of the benefits of our particular relaxed environment and distance from the mothership was that we could turn our space into anything we liked. We had sofas and weird screens and neon signs and loads of space. We let dogs and children come in and play around us. We had people giving talks over the other side of the office. There were finger dart battles.
And we had a Balance Board.
The board was the property of our lead engineer and he used it to practice for snow-boarding. Very gradually all the rest of us started to play with it too. We鈥檇 stand on it and trying to stay upright and laugh at each other鈥檚 clumsiness. I started off worse than anyone else鈥擨鈥檇 never had much sense of my body鈥攂ut gradually started to improve. I mucked around on it every day. In the end something was bound to go wrong.
Picture the scene #8211; I鈥檓 standing next to the lead engineer, looking at his screen. We鈥檙e talking about an element of the product we鈥檙e working on. We鈥檙e probably making some ridiculous joke or something. And I鈥檓 balancing on the balance board. And I fall off.
Everyone comes around and laughs at me lying on the floor, but I鈥檓 not laughing. I can tell something is wrong, but I don鈥檛 know what. I feel a bit irritated because they鈥檙e all having fun at my expense and honestly I鈥檓 not very good at being embarrassed. A co-worker makes a dumb joke and I say something like, 鈥淚 think there鈥檚 something wrong with my arm鈥 and then she looks and her eyes widen quickly and she shrieks and runs off. My arm is at a funny angle coming right out of my shoulder and it鈥檚 moving #8230; strangely #8230; I can鈥檛 seem to control it properly. And it hurts. Although not as much as it maybe ought to #8230;
Ten minutes later I鈥檓 in a friend鈥檚 car driving to the hospital. I feel incredibly strange. I鈥檓 scared out of my mind. I鈥檓 in pain, but again, not as much as I ought to be, but every time we hit a pothole in the car it feels like something inside my arm is sawing through my shoulder muscle. My arm hangs off me strangely. It鈥檚 not moving properly. I have to hold it in mid air with my other arm or it feels #8230; bad #8230; Really bad. In the back of my mind I鈥檓 wondering whether it鈥檒l be fixable. I鈥檓 trying to work out if I鈥檓 being melodramatic. Does this kind of thing happen to people all the time? My friend is being calm in that way that only someone who has had two children can be. She knows it鈥檚 a big deal, she鈥檚 not pretending it isn鈥檛, but she knows that panicking won鈥檛 help. She鈥檚 awesome.
We get to SF General. I鈥檓 clearly not freaked out enough, because it takes me about ten seconds to notice that all the junior doctors and orderlies and people who are working there are absolutely stunning. It takes me about another five seconds to realise that I don鈥檛 like SF General. There鈥檚 a wide-eyed woman handcuffed to a railing who screams 鈥楻ape!鈥 whenever a doctor comes near her. There are two men who are mostly naked, covered in red scratches and dust, moaning like zombies and reaching out for one another with dirty, bloody hands. A woman runs in as the doctors start cutting off my t-shirt shouting, 鈥淒o you have insurance?鈥 over and over. She鈥檚 shouting at me like I don鈥檛 have other things on my mind right at this moment. I don鈥檛 know what to say. I don鈥檛 know how this works. I have insurance in theory, but I haven鈥檛 looked into it at all since joining the company. I have no idea what one鈥檚 supposed to do. And also鈥攂y the way鈥攎y arm is hanging out of its socket #8230;
I鈥檓 put in a strange position and my arm starts to feel incredibly bad and painful. They inject me with something, but I don鈥檛 feel the pinprick. I start talking to my friend. 鈥淭his isn鈥檛 doing anything #8230;鈥 I say. 鈥淚t鈥檚 rubbish.鈥 Then a few seconds later #8230; 鈥淪hit, It had been doing something. Shit. Give me some more!鈥 I鈥檓 in a room covered in tiles with equipment around me. I鈥檓 losing track a bit of who is in the room with me and who isn鈥檛. They give me something stronger鈥攕omething wonderful鈥攁nd I start making jokes. Brilliant jokes. I鈥檓 the wittiest man alive. Also I鈥檓 English and that counts for something with these people. I鈥檓 dimly aware that I shouldn鈥檛 flirt with any of the doctors. I can sort of see them talking to my friend in the corner.
Time passes and honestly I don鈥檛 remember them setting my arm, but they clearly did. And next thing I know I鈥檓 lying exhausted and only semi-aware of what鈥檚 going on in a corridor on a gurney. One of the dirty blood-covered men is being wheeled past me on another gurney. He reaches out for me as he passes. My friend blocks him. I close my eyes and hear his groaning zombie-noise pass me by.
I鈥檓 sent home in pretty good order. Their suspicion is that the shoulder has just been dislocated. Now it鈥檚 been put back in place everything will sort of return to normal. I mention that I don鈥檛 seem to be able to move it that much and they say that鈥檚 common and that it鈥檒l get better in a few days. I go home and collapse.
And time passes. The next day my arm doesn鈥檛 hurt that much at all. I can鈥檛 move it very much. I鈥檓 not that concerned. But the day after, it鈥檚 still not moving. It鈥檚 a long holiday weekend, but I stay at home trying to get better. The Monday comes and I鈥檓 starting to freak out. I鈥檝e tried to work out what鈥檚 going on. A few things seem to be working. I can clench my fist. My bicep works. But I can鈥檛 straighten my arm, I can鈥檛 lift it up. I can鈥檛 straighten my fingers at all. And the outside of my arm from my shoulder to my finger tips feels cold and dead. My left arm can only really do one useful thing. I can hold out my arm like I鈥檓 begging. That鈥檚 the limit of what is practical. My arm has been replaced by a cup-holder.
Over the next few weeks I learn what鈥檚 going on. The brachial nerve in my shoulder has been 鈥榙amaged鈥. No one knows how much. It could be bruised. It could be severed. If it鈥檚 bruised it will recover, at the rate of about a millimeter a week. If it has been severed, then it won鈥檛 recover at all. I鈥檒l be stuck with a barely functioning arm for the rest of my life.
I visit a shoulder therapist who tries to calm me down about the whole thing. He鈥檚 a tall, tanned middle-aged man who looks like he surfs. He鈥檚 relatively positive, but says it鈥檒l be a long wait to find out if I鈥檒l heal. I want to know what happens if I don鈥檛 heal, but he doesn鈥檛 want to tell me. I have to force him to go into detail. He talks of opening up my arm and moving the muscles around so that they connect to the other side of my hand. He talks of fusing the bones in my wrist together so that my hand doesn鈥檛 flop down like a gay stereotype every time I move. He talks of braces and assistive devices. I sort of take some of it in. Knowing there are options鈥攅ven weird cyborg, body-mutilating options鈥攊s weirdly comforting.
My friends try and help鈥攕ome more than others. None of them really know what to do. None of them know how to react. They鈥檙e looking at me unclear as to how serious it is. At one level, I鈥檓 just a guy with his arm in a sling. At another level, I鈥檓 the guy whose arm doesn鈥檛 work and may never work again. They very graciously offer to help.
Very gradually a kind of black humour dredges itself across me, as I start to think about what my life could be like. You believe that you treat people with significant problems like this normally, but your illusions go away pretty quickly when you鈥檙e in the situation yourself. As the muscle starts to waste away on your arm, you start wondering what you鈥檒l look like with one flaccid, scrawny arm, clawing upon itself. You wonder if you鈥檒l be able to drive a car or ride a bike. What if you fall over on it? Would you be able to feel if you鈥檇 damaged it more? Will you be stuck looking after your arm like you would an insensate vegetative child?
How are you going to type? How are you going to do the work you鈥檝e been doing for years? Within a few weeks I get my typing up to forty five words a minute one-handed. Everyone is very impressed, but what do they know? It鈥檚 half the speed I could type before. Am I going to be half as productive? My mother calls me and starts talking about assistive devices. Should I get a chording keyboard? It all feels like preparing for a life without a functioning arm. That鈥檚 not a view of the future that I鈥檓 capable of dealing with. I鈥檓 not able to think like that. It makes me angry that anyone would think that I should think like that. I will not think like that.
I find myself doing things in my home that I鈥檇 been meaning to do for years but never got around to, purely because doing them one-handed is borderline impossible. I refuse help from people. They mean well but they don鈥檛 understand. If I start taking people鈥檚 help now, then it鈥檚 accepting that I鈥檓 a broken person. It鈥檚 accepting that I鈥檒l need some kind of assistance for the rest of my life. That I鈥檒l always be dependent on other people. Fuck that. Fuck it so hard. I move every piece of furniture in my house. I rip up the carpet. I fold it up and drag it out into the shed. I鈥檓 swearing every step of the way. It鈥檚 a war between me and the carpet. It鈥檚 the most difficult thing I鈥檝e ever done. It takes me four hours. At the end I鈥檓 victorious. I feel strong and angry and determined and relentless.
I don鈥檛 take a single day off work from the moment the fall happened. In retrospect this was one of the most stupid things I鈥檝e ever done.
I wonder about sex. I wonder whether anyone would want to have sex with someone with a gimpy arm. I wonder whether or not I鈥檇 want to have sex with someone who wanted to have sex with someone with a gimpy arm. I try and imagine the mechanics. I visualize the look on their face as we go through the motions. I have fairly dark patches.
I go and see a neurologist who inserts long needles into my arms and asks me if I feel anything. He runs current through my body. He鈥檚 not impressed by the results. He tells me there鈥檚 a fifty percent chance of me getting something back, but that鈥檚 all. I leave composed and balanced. Sitting on a chair outside the surgery, I feel myself falling. I get a phone call from my boss. It鈥檚 the worst possible time and the poor man gets an earful of quite un-British set of emotion. I walk around for a bit. When I get back to the office, no one knows about my blip.
Months pass, and I start physiotherapy with two guys. One of whom is incredibly athletic and looks at me as if the arm is the least of my problems. Apparently working eighteen hour days and not getting any exercise is a bad thing. The other guy spends every minute manipulating my arm and asking about how to set up a tech start-up in San Francisco. I humour him. I wish he鈥檇 shut up.
I get an exciting new device that runs an electrical stimulus through my arm. When it鈥檚 on, every muscle clenches. All the muscles I can鈥檛 control. My fingers splay out like a maniac. It hurts a lot but it鈥檚 a pleasing kind of pain. It feels like I have some control over opening my fingers for the first time in months. I鈥檓 supposed to hold my arm out, trigger the device, watch my hand lift up and then turn off the device and try and keep my hand in the air. Every time I turn it off it flops down like a dead fish. Every time I鈥檓 a little more disappointed.
Friends are fascinated by this device. It gives them insight into how their bodies work; that you can route around the nervous system so easily. They sometimes want to try it on themselves. I鈥檓 eager to show them how it works. Partly that鈥檚 because I want them to understand the process, but there鈥檚 a part of me that also wants to hurt them for having working limbs. It鈥檚 not a feeling I鈥檓 proud of.
No one knows what to say, and I don鈥檛 know how to help them. After a while I start to wish they鈥檇 just pretend not to notice it. The following is the standard conversation that people had with me, borderline unedited:
鈥淪o what happened to your arm?鈥
鈥淚t doesn鈥檛 work鈥
鈥淗ow did you do that?
鈥淚 fell over. I don鈥檛 really want to talk about it.鈥
鈥淥h well, I鈥檓 sure it鈥檒l be better soon.鈥
鈥淲ell, actually, no. It鈥檚 paralysed and may never get better.鈥
鈥淎re you right-handed?鈥
鈥淗a! Well at least you can still masturbate, amiright?鈥
鈥 #8230;鈥
I have this conversation fifty times or more. I start to want to hide from people rather than have the conversation. I can sense when it鈥檚 about to start and try and steer the discussion in a different direction. It never works. I start to avoid talking to new people because I know they鈥檒l do it. Every new time I have to explain myself forces me to go through the whole process in my head again. Yes, that鈥檚 right. My arm doesn鈥檛 work. It may never work again. Yeah, it鈥檚 a big deal. Thanks so much for asking.
Other concerned people ask me questions and sound so upset by the answers that I find myself having to make them feel better.
After a while I find a new script to stop things spiraling out of my control #8211; a better script, a script that scares people. A script that stops their homilies dead in their tracks.
鈥淪o what happened to your arm?鈥
鈥淗orrific fisting accident.鈥
鈥淚鈥檓 sorry. What?鈥
鈥淗orrific fisting accident. I hurt myself fisting someone.鈥
鈥淗oly shit.鈥
鈥淭his is nothing. You should see the other guy #8230;鈥
That shuts them up.
Four months after I fell over, I started noticing that I could lift my left hand up a couple of millimeters. I didn鈥檛 want to get my hopes up #8211; maybe I鈥檇 always been able to do that, but the swelling from the injury had just masked it. But then a week later, it was getting stronger. I could move it half an inch. And then stronger and stronger. A couple of months later, with regular physiotherapy, I had a fully functioning left arm again. It was weak, certainly and it took a long time before it felt the same as my right arm. And there are still moments where the joint hurts a bit. But every day throughout all of the healing, while working hard to make things better, I鈥檇 say to myself, 鈥淭his is fine. If it never gets any better than this, I鈥檒l still be grateful.鈥
Today it鈥檚 back to normal, and it鈥檚 so easy to forget how hard it was and how I felt during the process. During the time it happened, I never once wanted to go onto my blog and write up what was going on. It was too big, too hard, too upsetting. All it would be was spreading my black mood around the internet.
The first thing I learned when this happened to me was the difference between something that will heal and something that may not. People break their arms every day. They know it鈥檒l get better. They鈥檙e in pain and sad and limited, but they鈥檒l almost certainly get better. So they can take help, lean on their friends and family. Accept a short burst of incapacity, then get back to normal.
But if it might not heal鈥攊f it鈥檚 something that you could have to live with for forty or fifty or sixty years鈥攖hen it鈥檚 very different. We don鈥檛 tend to think about disease or illness in that way. We have very few mental tools to help us understand that kind of shift of life-expectations #8211; that deformation of your future. You may not get better. You may not heal. You may be like this forever. Are you going to be a burden to everyone around you? Are people going to treat you like a child or look at you with 鈥榩rofound sympathy鈥 until the day you drop dead? Are you always going to be unable to carry your own weight? Are you always going to rely on others?
People always say, 鈥淲hat doesn鈥檛 kill you makes you stronger #8230;鈥, but I鈥檝e come to ruefully add in my head every time I hear that, unless it maims you. Unless it maims you.
So I鈥檝e got a newfound respect for all the people who have had these experiences. My experience was thankfully brief but I feel I have a little more understanding of what it means to fall over and feel that you have to get up, no matter what you have to leave behind in the process. No one wants to have their independence and sense of self diminished by some trivial and stupid accident. I now understand a little more the absolute determination of people who live with a condition that won鈥檛 go away #8211; the guts it takes to get through fear and self-doubt and the need to demonstrate that you鈥檙e not a wasted person, a mutilation, a wreck. Looking that battle in the face, however briefly, made me admire people who fight through it every day all the more. They don鈥檛 need our sympathy. They need our admiration and our respect. My arm healed. I was lucky. Many other people are not.
I have no moral from this story. I wish I could say it changed my life dramatically, or that I brought something back from the abyss that I can share and we can all learn from. But really, all I have is that you should appreciate what you鈥檝e got. Very few people whose bodies get broken were injured rescuing children from ships or fighting against dangerous psychopaths. Most accidents are in the home or in a car, doing something normal and stupid. Falling from a ladder. Tripping on a curb. Trivial, embarrassing things. And they can happen at any time. There鈥檚 little you can do to avoid all risk in life, and it would be a pretty dull life if you did. So just be careful. Be decent. Be nice to each other. Because it could happen to you.
Update: I #8217;ve received a number of comments from people about this piece who have said that it #8217;s given them some extra perspective or helped them through tricky situations, and obviously that makes me feel quite good. However, I #8217;ve also had a couple of people who have experienced much worse situations respond to it very badly indeed. Absolutely the last thing I would ever want would be to piss these people off #8211; my goal, if anything, was to try and share with able-bodied people some small amount of the change in perspective I went through. Nonetheless, I #8217;ve pissed them off, and I have to accept that. Rather than change my piece above, I #8217;ve decided to link instead to this response: Alexander Williams on Google Plus. It #8217;s far from flattering about me, but if you want a different perspective, there it is.
Author Tom Coates
Category Uncategorized
Comments No Comments
My last day at Yahoo!
After over four years, spread over several teams and two continents, today will be my last day at Yahoo!
It #8217;s been a pretty extraordinary ride, all things considered. I came into the company at the same time as a whole bunch of extraordinary people, a number of whom I #8217;ve had the honour of working with at some time or another. I #8217;ve met a whole bunch of brilliant, new, amazing people through the company #8211; far too many in fact to list with any degree of comprehensiveness.
I #8217;ve moved halfway across the planet to San Francisco and made a new life for myself, delivered talks on multiple continents, worked on and launched projects and done work that I consider the very best of my career, some in public and much behind the scenes. I #8217;ve got a green card. I #8217;ve filed a few patents with some brilliant people. I #8217;ve seen the absolute best of Yahoo! and a fair amount of its worst. I #8217;ve had some amazing highs and some significant lows. And #8211;with the exception of falling over last year and paralysing my left arm for six months, which I could have done without #8211;I don #8217;t regret a moment of it.
There really is too much to talk about, but there are a few projects in particular that stick in my memory #8211; projects that I #8217;m proud to have been a part of.
The Yahoo! Hack Day programme was started by Chad Dickerson in 2006. He #8217;d started off running them internally #8211; twenty-four hour periods where creative designers and engineers could build and show off new features, technologies and projects to their peers using Yahoo! #8217;s technology. Towards the end of 2006 he #8217;d decided to take it to the next level and put together an amazing Open Hack Day at the Sunnyvale Campus for the general public. The event was an amazing success, loads of people came and produced some amazing stuff. He even managed to get Beck to come and play for everyone.
So when Matt McAlister started talking to me about doing an event like it in London, it sounded like a great idea. And after talking to old colleagues at the BBC, it started to look like a joint event between the two organisations might be even better. But the event really started to come together when Matthew Cashmore from the BBC and Yahoo! #8217;s Anil Patel and Elaine Pearce got involved. Matthew Cashmore really was a force of nature, pushing us continually think bigger and grander and the event genuinely would not have happened without him. He was extraordinary. In fact he #8217;s the main reason, we ended up at Alexandra Palace #8230;
The Hack Day event, which some of you will remember was so awesome that it got struck by lightning represented everything I think is great about our industry #8211; a collaborative, creative, imaginative, productive event, full of passionate, optimistic people. And it would never have happened without all the great volunteers from both Yahoo! and the BBC.
Another project that I think sums up some of these qualities was Brickhouse #8211; a new product development arm that Caterina brought into being at Yahoo in 2007. I was brought over to the US to act as Head of Product for the team, and the following year was one of the most productive and creative of my life. There #8217;s a truism that consolidating your creative work into #8216;external innovation units #8217; is a bad idea, and I tend to agree with that. But Brickhouse wasn #8217;t about consolidating innovation into one part of the company, it was about adding another string to the company #8217;s bow #8211; it was about supplementing the creative work going on around the rest of the company with small (sometimes tiny) groups of creative people developing and launching new ideas that simply wouldn #8217;t get developed elsewhere.
Obviously, not everything about Brickhouse was perfect, but even if I look back just at the things we got out the door in that year, I remain proud of work that was never less than prescient and interesting. Among (much) other work in development, we launched innovative platforms for achievements online, services to open up live broadcast to anyone, open platforms for sharing your location #8211; all ideas to this day I #8217;m quite comfortable standing behind.
It would take too long to list everyone who worked at, passed through, or helped out projects at Brickhouse #8211;and I #8217;d be bound to forget someone in the process #8211;so instead I #8217;m just going to mention (again) what a pleasure it was to work with Salim Ismail, Chad Dickerson and Mike Folgner. I hope I get to work with all of them again at some point.
The last project I want to talk about is Fire Eagle. When I first joined Yahoo! in 2005, Simon Willison and I wrote a list of some areas we thought could be really fascinating to work on, and which could be a really huge deal over the coming years. We #8217;d become really interested in location and had come to the conclusion that every website on the planet could be enhanced in some way if you could add some element of location.
We didn #8217;t work on that idea immediately, but it stuck with us, and a couple of years later we started playing with it more seriously with Paul Hammond and a small team at Yahoo Research Berkeley (whose work had initially inspired us). One thing lead to another, we brought the project into Brickhouse and launched it late in 2008.
I #8217;m incredibly proud of Fire Eagle. The idea was early, perhaps, but clearly in the right direction. We could see location on the near horizon as a really big idea and we could also see some of the problems and worries it might cause. We spent an incredible amount of time thinking about the privacy implications of users sharing their locations. Many other services see privacy as a problem and attempt to gloss over it for their users. We thought of it as an opportunity and made the privacy features the core part of the project. Users could choose where to share, how much to share, hide themselves and change or retract their permissions at any time. I think we progressed the state of the art in that area. Someone once referred to Fire Eagle as the Pixies of the latest batch of Location Services, and if that #8217;s at all true, it may be the biggest compliment I #8217;ve ever received.
But yet again, the most important thing for me with Fire Eagle was the people I got to work with. If I had to say one thing to those who wonder how to make their companies more creative, it would be to hire amazing people. Amazing people are so much more important than ideas, because amazing people are idea factories. And when you find teams of people who can generate good ideas, enjoy working together and are also experts in their craft #8211;and your work is just to support them, help them focus and get problems out of their way #8211;then honestly, you can #8217;t fail.
So I want to personally thank Seth Fitzsimmons, Samantha Tripodi, Jeannie Yang, Chris Martin, Ben Ward, Kevin Ryan, Phil Pearson, Rabble, Arnab Nandi, Simon King, Mor Naaman, Ayman Shamma and everyone else who worked on Fire Eagle at any point in its life. I learned an enormous amount from all of you.
Over the last year, I #8217;ve been working to take some of the ideas that lie behind Fire Eagle and apply them more widely across Yahoo! by looking after the company #8217;s User Location platforms. There #8217;s not a lot more I can say about that at the moment, but I #8217;m sure that you #8217;ll see some of the stuff we #8217;ve been working on over the coming months and years.
So what #8217;s next? Firstly I #8217;m taking a bit of a break. I #8217;m going to be spending the next couple of months relaxing and visiting my friends and family in the UK. I #8217;m looking forward to the opportunity to digest the last few years a bit and maybe do a bit more writing. And I #8217;m already talking to a few people about some interesting new projects for later in the year. If you want to be one of those people, then feel free to contact me at tom [at] plasticbag [dot] org. It #8217;s an exciting time to be stepping out into the industry. Wish me luck!
[Apologies to anyone who is having trouble posting comments. I think a server upgrade a while ago broke some stuff. I #8217;ll try and sort it out once I #8217;ve slept for a couple of days.]
Author Tom Coates
Category Life
Comments 11 Comments
Should we encourage self-promotion and lies?
A couple of days ago, Clay Shirky wrote a piece on his blog called A Rant About Women which took as its subject the comparative comfort with which some men are prepared to market themselves, mislead and lie to get ahead compared to women.
I #8217;ve been reading responses to this piece on Twitter and elsewhere, and I #8217;ve become increasingly horrified by what I #8217;ve seen. Generally, it #8217;s being viewed as a call to arms to create a new breed of women who are as self-important, self-promoting, shameless and arrogant as some of the worst (and most celebrated) men in the industry. This attitude is being viewed as the #8216;way to get ahead #8217; for any individual wanting to make their mark in the world.
I #8217;m prepared to accept that there #8217;s a correlation between attitudes to competition and self-promotion and gender. I #8217;m not as prepared to take it as far as Clay seems to, but I #8217;ll go along with its generalised existence.
And clearly, if aggressive self-promotion and pompous self-aggrandizement is what gets people ahead in the world, then at the individual level, it #8217;s better to perform in that kind of way than it is to sit passively and watch yourself get passed over by more clumsy, venal, smug, aggressive, macho idiots.
But at the level of the company, at the level of the community, at the level of the industry #8211; are these attributes in fact in any way desirable? Does self-promotion really lead to great products or projects? Is the ability to lie and mislead really what it takes to achieve?
My experience has been that there #8217;s definitely a role for the arrogant and the pushy in the creation and promotion of a project. It #8217;s also taught me that this skill is a small part of the set of skills necessary to produce something great.
The kinds of things that result in great products are tangible skills, a desire and a pleasure in collaborative building, an aspiration and sense that you #8217;re making something important, a sense of teamwork, room to experiment, the ability to bring out the best in the people around you, a good work ethic.
Alongside that a desire to show-off can be really beneficial, a confidence in your ability is essential, the ability to push yourself into new areas certainly a benefit. But these attributes can also get in the way. There #8217;s something in American culture in particular which values the pushy and the determined, but we #8217;ve all worked with people whose confidence massively outstrips their abilities, who cannot work together with other people because they think they #8217;re superior to everyone else.
And we #8217;ve also met a whole bunch of people in the industry who do nothing but self-promote, working day and night to sell themselves, and achieve positions massively disproportionate to their tangible abilities. There are people in our industry in positions of substantial power whose reputation is built upon the way in which they present themselves as being visionaries and experts. Some of them have found that it #8217;s simply more efficient for them to spend their days building that reputation through PR and self-promotion than it is to demonstrate it through the things that they make, the value that they create.
I #8217;d never argue that we should forcefully reject anyone who manifests confidence, skills in self-promotion or who is cocky enough to sell themselves. But what I want to strongly resist is the idea that it is these attributes that we should be promoting #8211; either in women or in men.
It should be unacceptable for us to say that lying about one #8217;s abilities is something that everyone has to do to get ahead. It should be unacceptable for us to say that arrogance and aggression are to be aspired to.
Instead we should be demonstrating that great projects, like the ones Apple produces, are at least in part based upon trying to produce the best thing possible, feeling the integrity in the product you #8217;re making. Trying to do something good. We should acknowledge the example of Flickr who created an astonishing culture of extremely talented engineers and designers around the very real aspiration to make something beautiful, powerful and good for the world. Or the guys at Twitter who discovered their idea initially by letting small groups experiment in interesting directions rather than dogmatically following the vision of a bold cocksure individual.
Good projects come from good people, good vision, good execution, good collaboration, good insight. And it #8217;s these traits #8211; and the ability to spot them #8211; that we should be encouraging in our colleagues.
The right thing to do is to get it into the heads of our VCs and companies that a hunger to win at any cost is not the main attribute of a creative or productive person. That the ability to be intelligent, think through problems, work with other people, develop ideas effectively #8211; that all of these traits are better indicators of success than how big they tell you their testicles are! That the person who comes to you with the biggest pitch is not necessarily the person you should be listening to.
And while encouraging people to spot the talented and the creative, we should also be considering how we shame those people who self-promote without creating. The financial collapse has taught us that rhetorical bubbles divorced from reality are a danger to us all. We #8217;re already approaching this point #8211; our industry has become venal, insular and dominated by marketing. We have come to value the wrong things. And if we want a continued vigorous, creative, free, open and equal environment, that #8217;s something we have to fix. It #8217;s not something to aspire to.
Author Tom Coates
Category Business Politics Technology
Comments 14 Comments
Links for 2008-08-23
God, will you look at these Microsoft TV adverts from the last ten thousand years.
Some of them are so painful, I can #8217;t watch them all the way through.
I wish I could be in Brighton for dConstruct 2008 #8211; it looks like it #8217;s going to be great fun
Matt Biddulph and Matt Jones, Burka, Tantek and all on stage with the awesome and extraordinarily nice Steven Johnson. Can #8217;t go wrong really, can you. Very happy making.
Links for 2008-07-20
#8220;Erik Huggers made BBC new media boss #8221;
I don #8217;t know the man at all There was clearly some succession planning going on here, though, which doesn #8217;t entirely fill me with joy. Sigh.
All electronic music fans need to listen to Delia Derbyshire #8217;s #8220;Experimental Dance Track #8221; from the late sixties on this BBC News story
Extraordinary. Unbelievable how contemporary it sounds.
Links for 2008-05-22
The Online Shoppe of Christopher David Ryan includes some lovely bits of design involving Apple Shortcuts
Pretty much as design nerdy as you get without actually replacing your limbs with anglepoise lamps and Eames chairs.
How Many Five Year Olds Could You Take in a Fight?
Apparently I could take eighteen.
Links for 2008-05-13
Domestic sell all kinds of weird and awesome vynil stickers and stuff to put on walls
I think we #8217;re going to try and get some of these for the Brickhouse office to design it up a bit. The more it feels like a teenager #8217;s bedroom, the more creative we #8217;ll be.
Links for 2008-04-22
Plazes has added support for Fire Eagle!
And this blog post explains all the value that they #8217;re getting out of being involved. Very excited to have them with us!
Links for 2008-04-17
Jeremy Paxman #8217;s position on #8216;User Generated Content #8217; should now be clear
And truth be told, he #8217;s right. The last few years have seen a decent number of fairly feeble attempts to harness the wisdom of the crowds that do indeed end up schlocky and amateurish. People will get better at it in time.
There #8217;s a fun argument in progress over at 37 signals about whether urgency and long working hours are ever a good thing.
People always generalise from their own experience. You get several incredibly bright, diligent self-starting friends in a room and #8211;shock #8211;they #8217;re naturally productive and find their own equilibrium.
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