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Enrollment in computer science programs is down across the country. After hearing this story on NPR last night, I couldn’t help but have a second of selfish glee.

Of course, any good feelings about this were quickly crushed when I heard the news that many students applying for college regard computer science as a quick trip to a job in a back room sitting in front of a computer all day, breathing stale air and eating junk food.

It seems embarrassing to have to say this, but computing isn’t an end in itself. Computing is a way to connect our ideas of logic to the rest of our lives. Computer science and computer engineering are useless to anybody else unless they’re related to our lives in meaningful ways.

I’d go as far to say that a large number of computer scientists, as translators between technology and people, actually need to be more socially aware than your average person. Having a strong background in logic, mathematics, organization and computational theory is important, but it’s lazy to think that it’s the whole picture.

Even more important are those qualities the aforementioned reluctant students think is lacking in computer geeks: social skills, perspective and the ability to communicate effectively, pleasantly and tactfully to others. What’s actually needed are people who have sufficient awareness and enough social perspective to understand how technology can fit into our lives and then apply all that knowledge in interesting ways.

We have enough hardcore, ivory-tower, Dr. Strangelove-like computer geeks. They’re important, but we also need computer scientists that are people people.

 

Many times as I proofread a client website, the musical score from “Mission: Impossible” will start playing in my head… you know which one I’m talking about. The one starring Peter Graves and Martin Landau.

I imagine the mysterious voice telling me that my mission, should I choose to accept it, is to find all errors on a certain page of the site. Surely Jim of the original TV series never had such a thrilling objective. Broken links beware, I’m on your tail.

Of course if I don’t find all the errors my computer will not self-destruct and my supervisor will probably not disavow all knowledge of my actions—although I have my suspicions. Nevertheless, quality assurance checks and proofreading can be high-pressure. The website needs to go live but can’t until YOU make sure everything is running smoothly and error-free. The clock is ticking, and of course, as is the nature of the Internet, things tend to break when you turn your back.

But unlike this “Mission: Impossible” Agent, I am paid in something besides peanuts.

Most online shoppers spend a lot of time with different shopping carts. Not to mention the ones actually at the store, a lot of our time online is spent interacting with e-commerce software. I don’t think I’m alone that when somebody says the phrase “shopping cart,” I generally think of a Web-based cart, not the ones in queue at New Seasons.

That being said, check out this great cart. It requires Macromedia’s Flash Player™.

Why is this so funny? Thirteen years ago this might have been slightly funny, probably a bit cute. However, after more than a decade of working on and using “shopping carts” that are actually nothing more than grids of pictures of products, I sat entranced when I watched this, giggling all the while. So did my wife, who forwarded the link to me.

The trick of this joke is to set up a code of conduct, then to suddenly break it in an outrageous way. A classic example of this is Monty Python’s fish-slapping dance:

Note that this is funny in other contexts, too:

So what’s my point? We’ve been setting ourselves up for this e-commerce fish-slapping dance punchline for more than a decade.

The e-commerce shopping cart as we know it has created its own version of acceptable and unacceptable behavior. These expected norms are now so strong that violating them is extremely amusing. These norms also limit what we’re willing to design for fear of being laughed at. There are definite rules about what you can and can’t do. Not only does this “shopping cart” metaphor limit us, but it’s no longer really a metaphor: the phrase is actually just a pair of two homonyms with related meanings. It’s rather boring, and I think we’re getting close to stagnation.

And stagnation is just an opportunity to do something different that suddenly makes sense to everybody. New ideas, anyone?

By the way, the image of the shopping cart is used under the Creative Commons License.

It’s no small secret that Oregonians love beer. More specifically, it’s no small secret that employees of Respond2 love beer. So imagine my excitement about learning that a Deschutes Brewpub is going to be opening up just down the street from us in a few short months.

I mean, I’m an Oregonian. I work for Respond2. I like beer. It all adds up.

But what really interested me about the impending opening was a quote from one of the architects, Stuart Emmons, as stated in the recent Portland Business Journal article:

“When people come in from out of town, we want them to know they’re in Oregon.”

Deschutes plans on doing this by incorporating a “blend of Northwest elements, like exposed timber beams, with dark Scottish colors and walls peppered with whimsical items.” The even used salvaged timber from a neighboring construction project to build a 27-foot bar. How Portland.

But what it got me thinking about was how we can incorporate this simple quote into R2C. I want people to know when they come in from out of town—or even just walk into our building—that they are at Respond2 Communications. And I want them to know what that means. I want them to know that means they will have a staff that understands and anticipates their needs, as well as genuinely cares about the success of their company.

There are many new and exciting changes ahead for R2C, but I know that I am not alone in fiercely guarding what has always been one of our strengths: that we are an agency that has interest for our clients. This is something that will never change, even as R2C continues to grow and evolve.

Like Deschutes Brewery, we want R2C clients to understand where they are, and where we can take them. Welcome to Respond2 Communications.

In the ongoing crusade to find new band names inspired by concepts related to information technology here at Respond2, let’s talk about Systems Administrators.

There’s a reason why systems administrators have the reputation of being hard-nosed, inflexible jerks who control your company’s information infrastructure. There’s a reason why the cover of O’Reilly’s “Essential System Administration” book has a picture of a well-armored armadillo on it. There’s even a reason for the plethora of amazingly satisfying fiction written about the weird, rage-filled escapades of systems administrators.

Aside from this, system administrators are here to stay. They are our only bridge between our imaginary world of business and the imaginary world of computer engineering. We couldn’t do what we do without them and the incredibly complex sets of systems they maintain. After all, somebody needs to start twitching uncontrollably whenever there’s a hint of a power outage.

To be a good systems administrator, one really does have to resemble something of an armadillo. It takes a very special person to fend off well-intentioned, disastrous suggestions from people in power who don’t have the time to understand the details of their server farm. An iron will is required to patiently explain to the boss what can and can’t be done with limited budgets. A person has to be made of pretty stern, flexible stuff to fight off the misconceptions spread by marketers while seriously considering genuinely new ideas as they come along. Metaphorical plated armor is a must, which means a good system administrator makes a dinosaur-like impression on people who are expecting exciting, neon-lit, techno-geek gadgetry from cool, googley-eyed IT staff.

In honor of all the hard-nosed, inflexible, well-armored, weird, rage-filled, twitchy people who proudly call themselves sysadmins, the band name of the day is The Armadillos.

This last week I was asked to participate in a panel at my old college. The topic was “Meet the Professionals,” which caused me to wonder, “am I really a professional?” Yes, I technically work in a profession; one where I go into an office, have a desk, computer, phone with my own extension, we have a receptionist, and I get a weekly status report that I adhere to as my overlord law (not like speeding, more like murder).

Does that make me a professional? How does a professional dress, act and speak? So, I put on my Thursday’s best and went to the panel to pretend that I had something interesting to say. A few of the other panelists prepared their statements. I never felt more under-prepared than I did right then. However, I decided to be honest, no dirty little secrets like “you’ll burn out by 27″ or “you’ll hate every client with the burning rage of getting cut off in traffic,” but more of what a real day of being a “worker” is like.

Granted, it wasn’t well-crafted or overly-theorized, but it was a true account of my day. Do I wake up every single day as a “professional” and ponder the intricacies of an ever-growing interactive age? Do I spend my day worried about the marketplace and how the war is going to effect inflation, thus creating a rebound effect of international scope that will make it possible to send direct mail to the little children of Peru? No, I start my day wondering if yesterday’s coffee cup really needs washing, or if it is ready for a fresh brew of heaven-inspired, golden, crushed bean stew in it.

I was real, and my answers were full of truth, because sooner or later these students will know the drag and glory of end of day deadlines. They will know which battles are worth sticking your flag into the ground, and which ones aren’t valuable enough to utter another “F-U.” They’ll know the exuberance of seeing one of your spots on television or making a splash page for the Web, and the dismay of someone flipping to another channel.

My life as a professional is not as gloomy as this entry is making it sound. It’s actually quite hands-down, thumbs-up kickin’—or as the young kids say—SWEET. I get to work with an eclectic group of people that are great at their jobs and funny as hell. My company is growing and we’re at an exciting time in the industry, one where direct response is no longer the ugly step-child of advertising, but has become the beacon of hope where accountability is king.

I get to make a difference, not in the world, but for the success of our clients. Every day is different and I never get stuck with the monotony of a number-cruncher (eight credits shy, and it’ll always stay that way). And as long as I get my morning sludge, the rest is all gravy.

 

The Proofreader’s Bible

“Should there be a comma in this sentence? Or should we just go with the way it is?” I spent 10 minutes yesterday pondering this question. And I’m still thinking about it today. As a Quality Assurance Coordinator (fancy-schmancy title for “proofreader”) part of my responsibilities is to make sure that we build websites that are free of grammar errors, misspellings and broken links. My job here is to be the stickler, the crank, the paranoid proofreader who brandishes a red pen. In short, I make sure a website is clean. It’s not a sexy job, but there is a certain thrill that comes with the hunt for an incomplete sentence.

I find being a paranoid proofreader isn’t easy, especially if it doesn’t come naturally, which it certainly does not for me. Here are a few tips that I’ve found help me become a detail-oriented person who can zone in on the sentence fragment or misplaced period.

1. The pressure of a looming deadline: A little adrenaline pumping through the veins creates excitement—as much excitement as you can have while hunting for sentence fragments.

2. Caffeine. A dark acidic cup of coffee does wonders. It sharpens the senses, increases the paranoia and keeps your eyes from glazing over while you’re on the lookout for mistakes. I’ve also heard that caffeine is good for your health and helps endurance athletes recover more quickly. So enjoy the double benefit of coffee.

3. Proofing in a vacuum: It’s helpful to create an environment that allows you to concentrate only on the task at hand. Although I’d like to be able to click constantly between the error-filled site, my inbox and Facebook, I know I’ll miss something. Close all other windows. Print out the pages that need corrections, put some soulful classical music on your playlist and concentrate.

4. Use a ruler or a piece of paper. Cover up the rest of the page so you are forced to only read one line at a time.

5. Use a pencil and point to every single word on the page. Read the sentence backwards and forward. Click on every link from right to left and then left to right. Go on to another page and come back. Checking multiple times is the only way you’ll catch everything.

6. Finally, in the best of scenarios, keep checking for at least an hour past the moment you found the last error. I’m constantly surprised at how many things I can miss, even when I’m being being the best paranoid proofreader I know how to be.

I recently read a column stating that people who use terms like “thinking outside of the box” and “seeing the big picture” really have no clue what being a creative is. The column goes on to allude that the speaker wouldn’t know “out of the box” thinking if it hit them in their talentless backside, and that all they really know is how to cram 18 lbs. of “crap” into a 10-lb. “box.”

Do I share those views? Yes and no, because while I firmly believe that creativity and “outside the box” thinking comes from anywhere and anyone, I also know that the skill of doing it on a routine basis must be cultivated.

While an idea or innovation may take its roots from anyone and anywhere, we must trust those who are refined and trained to bring it to fruition. Otherwise, all creatives become are skilled button-pushers with no talent or opinion—their sole purpose to do what they’re told and not actually be creative or “think outside of the box” at all.  Oh sweet, sweet irony.

Regardless, the reason I bring all of this up is because of a 10-year-old boy named Forest Pearson out of West Linn, Ore. Forest knows nothing of “thinking outside of the box” or “big picture thinking”—what he knows is that he loves snow and hates waiting.

So, did Forest except his fate that he would need to travel to the mountain or wait until every other winters snow? No, he saved over $500 and built his own backyard snow making machine. His thoughts and dreams not inhibited by cubicles or deadlines, but set free through inspiration and drive. Check out the newscast over at Gizmodo.com.

My last post called for innovation in the Web world, the world I work in—Forest Pearson trail-blazed innovation in the snow paradise he now plays in.Here’s to Forest Pearson, may his love for snow never falter and his innovative dreams never perish. Cheers!

This weekend the Wi-Fi connection in my apartment vanished. I spent 48 solid, uninterrupted hours without e-mail, YouTube, Wordpress or even so much as a weather update. Productivity skyrocketed. I actually read a newspaper, mopped the floors, cooked a balanced dinner and organized my closet. Who knew that I spent so much valuable time wandering aimlessly all over the Internet, stopping to spend half an hour on celebrity gossip sites and wasting endless moments jumping between recipe sites and bookmarking meals that I never actually get around to cooking. It was a refreshing mini-vacation—but it couldn’t last.

Yesterday I broke down and walked over to the local coffee shop that serves bland, watered-down coffee in exchange for free Wi-Fi. As I waded through a mass of e-mails, caught up on the latest Internet gossip and chatted with friends on Instant Messenger I realized how good it felt to be connected again.

Back at my Wi-Fi-less apartment, I pondered the future of Wi-Fi. Is it only a matter of time before every city offers some basic Wi-Fi service to its citizens, like Portland, Paris and Albuquerque, with varying degrees of success? Or will it follow Dublin’s lead and abandon a public Wi-Fi system because it proved too large for the city to manage. Or will we see more small business attracting users by offering free Wi-Fi to paying customers? I imagine it will be a mix and match of services. No matter what the result I can only hope that it will end in lower, more budget-friendly wireless packages from the Telecom giants that keeps even the humble blogger constantly connected.

 

I started my relationship with Facebook back in 2004 when the site was barely discovered. Similar to the feelings when you first start dating that special someone, I was curious. Questions rushed through my head—“What is this new form of e-mail?”; “Why would anyone want their comments to their friends broad casted throughout the world?”; “Will this just be another Website that becomes popular but ends up fading in time?”—I was apprehensive at first, so I had to seek my friends approval. They all showed me the highlights in having your own “interactive tree house that you can build,” so I was willing to give ‘F-book” a chance.

Months after I started the relationship began I got bored and almost broke up with the site. Then I began to notice pictures of myself automatically appearing on my profile.

It made picture sharing so easy. I didn’t need my friend’s e-mails anymore, all I needed was them to be my friend on Facebook and any pictures they uploaded would appear on the site. I always hated that I never had pictures, now I did and life was great! What an incredible service. I was in love. I heart F-book.

After the honeymoon phase was over the drama started. My friends were using the site to seek revenge on each other by posting inappropriate pictures and nasty comments. Still, even with the drama I loved how much the relationship was giving back. I was reconnecting with long lost friends, had over 200 pictures on my profile, and could advertise my personal brand—I was determined to make this bond last.

In the past six months some strange things on Facebook have been occurring, and I am annoyed at all the added features. Facebook use to stand for simplicity and a way to reconnect with friends and socialize. Now I think the site is juvenile as ever, I mean does anyone really need an interactive beer with a side of cyber nachos? I now cringe when I enter the site. This is not healthy for any type of relationship. So after three faithful years I am breaking up with the “book.”

I am going to keep contact with the site; however, I have been flirting with some other hot sites like the mature and sophisticated Linkedin, and the spunky and artistic Photobucket. In the end maybe I am getting old and do not have that college edge I once had. Maybe it’s me, Facebook.