Archive for the 'Life' Category

Jonathan Glyer

Published
by
cdeagle
on February 20, 2010
in Life
. 0 Comments

The ground falls away from us and we are free, tumbling through time and space, arcing towards the sun.  Houses and streets and oceans pass under our wings, flowing together, as we rise, and rise, and rise, into the vast blueness of the sky.  We bank, veering North, and the sun cuts through porthole windows, impossibly close and bright.  The clouds, below us now, are motionless.  Our world above seems placid, the vast distances steal away any sensation of movement except the steady upthrust keeping us in the air.

We had most of our religious conversations while we were serving in the youth ministry together.  There were many of them during these years, and the ones I remember most clearly are the disagreements.  It wasn’t the things we agreed about, but that we disagreed about, which sharpened us. Disagreeing with each other forced us to examine our viewpoints, understanding our reasoning was key to articulating, and to surviving an argument.  We never disagreed for the sake of being contrary, but we found conflicting sides to nonessential points of doctrine, theology, philosophy and ethics.  Our respect for each other was undiminished.  He didn’t just stumble into these conversations, he sought them out.  My heart swelled with joy when I heard from Eric Benson about their mutual and cooperative pursuit of God…but that came later.

A snap, a shuddering thud.  Wheels down at SeaTac, wing-flaps open and brakes lock, fighting the terrible momentum of sustained flight.  My legs are tight from last nights run, my heart feels strong, but my stomach is churning, and I feel blunted.  Now that we’ve returned to the embrace of our native orb, now that we’re grounded, how will we cope with what we must face?

I don’t remember the moment I met her, but I remember the first time I heard her laugh, sitting on the floor.  It rang through the room like a bright bell.  She was beautiful then, a young girl flowing over with the wonder of life and the light of things hoped for.

Waiting in the steel-gray drizzle curbside, my eyes rest on a strange SUV.  The door opens, and I hear her laugh as she steps out of the car, it floats towards me, embracing me.  It’s no heavier, has no trace of sadness.

The reunion was sweeter than I could’ve hoped.  Whatever else is between us, the animating force is still love.  Grief touches our conversation, we see it in each other and mark it for what it is.  It doesn’t define us.  We love, and are loved.  We share strength in that, and together we become more than what we are.

—

“He loved you.  He was your brother, a band of brothers.”  “He was passionate.” He effected people, and we loved him. We love him still.  We wept, chests ached and faces burned.  When his sister spoke, her heart touched ours.  His fathers words, the simple truth, “he loved well, and was well loved.” perfectly encompassed his principle values.

“I don’t like the phrase ‘quality time’” his father told me once.  I arched an eyebrow, asked why that was.
“If you have to say ‘I have quality time with my kids’ it’s because you don’t have time.  You’re trying to squeeze quality into the limited time you’re giving them, instead of giving them You, freely”.  This, he did.

“Come thou font of every blessing” we sing, our voices rising, twining around each other and growing till they fill the sanctuary, touching the high ceiling and stretching into the heavens beyond.  Suddenly, the dim lights flare, chasing shadows from the room. We worship in the light, every bulb blazing.  Afterward, we’re told that the lights can’t be dimmed.  It’s never happened before, and it makes me smirk.  Nothing is more divine than the random accidents that feel driven by greater hands than our own.

We sit on the floor again, and we laugh, as much as we can.  When the hour of parting comes, none of us are pleased.  We’ve weathered our sadness, this reprieve, this pure joy laced with tear-free remembrance, tastes too sweet.  We’ve lingered long, and now we go quietly, aching, into the night.  I’m afraid of tomorrow, I think.  Afraid of daybreak and the heaviness of our departure.

When they left for Seattle I thought I was losing them.  I remember the day, I remember my pain.  It’s nothing to this.  I remember his easy smile at the beginning of that adventure.  His life was a string of adventures, from France to Alaska and Mexico to Hawaii, he lived well, and more in 27 years than many do in a hundred.  But I’m not grieving for what he missed, my pain is a selfish thing, and it’s for myself.

At the airport I tell her I love her, and it’s as true as my love for him.  I’d make her whole if I could, but all that’s left for me is a long flight home.  So I carry her in my heart, I hold her there, and hope for everything.  She shared his last weeks and months during the drive, told about the invisible hand at her back, guiding her.  We were silent, drinking in the promise of a compassionate and involved God.  That was the God he believed in.  That’s the God we’ve all hoped for, and relied on.

—

The pulpit shifts when I touch it, and the microphone cracks.  It’s Saturday, it’s been 2 weeks.  I’m looking at a chapel full of people who knew Jon, some of them love him even more than I do.  I don’t begrudge them that, it’s good.  I should be nervous, but I’m not.  I wrote my speech during the slide-show, five minutes ago, but it doesn’t matter. I won’t even look at my notes.  I know what I want to say.  If you want to honor him, love the people in your life.  That’s all.

It started with desperation.  He set the standard in areas I knew I could never measure up to, but the highest bar was his refusal to measure me at all.  Instead he was a friend, he was a brother, he was always there, always faithful, and always invested.  Though he was many other things, it’s this one thing that I latch onto.  I can’t be Jon, but if I love him, I’ll keep his values in the center of my heart.  That is the only fitting honor I could hope to render.

The slide-show is playing now and I keep seeing joy.  Always joy, in everything he’s doing.  I can’t help but laugh for the joy in his life.  Sometimes I’m the only one, my voice echoing over the crowd to crash against the ceiling, and that’s fine.   I’m beginning to understand other ways to honor him.  I’m beginning to understand the way he saw things.  The more I see, the more I love him, and the more my joy grows.  My friend is lost to me, but he was my friend.  He’s gone, but I had him, for a time.

I am diminished by his loss, but made irreversibly and immeasurably greater for having known him.

Where the Wild Things Are

Published
by
cdeagle
on October 31, 2009
in Life
. 1 Comment

There’s a movie, which I haven’t seen, based on a book, which I love.  You’ve probably either seen the movie, or read the book.  The premise of the story is that a boy, Max, is sent to his room for misbehaving one night.  In his room, Maurice Sendack writes, “A forest grew…and grew…and grew, until the ceiling hung with vines, and the walls became the world all around.”

In this new world, Max goes on a journey.  He sails off through weeks and months, and almost over a year.  He comes to a place “Where the wild things are”.  In the book, these Wild Things aren’t described, but any boy would understand them.  In appearance, like a beast.  In nature, untamed, uncontrollable.

Until several months ago, I had created for myself a stable environment.  Within it, I operated as one comfortable with his surroundings.  For years, I was sure of some things.  Sure of a hot dinner, sure of four walls and a roof, sure that my decisions were right, or at least, justifiable.

The houses that we occupy are a sign of stability, but they are nothing compared to our own sense of surety, derived from long routine and the continual satisfaction of every expectation.  Like Max, I found myself one day, some months ago, in a forest.  It seemed to grow, and grow, until I wasn’t sure of anything.  In that situation, any man would do what Max did.  Any man would walk.  Sometimes we choose a direction with purpose, more often we pray, or hope, at the outset of a journey.  We pray that we find what we’re looking for, we hope that we know where we’re going.  But even when we don’t, we walk.

The longer we walk without finding the comfort of the familiar, the longer we tarry in that forest, the longer we labor on the sea, the greater our chance of coming to the place where the wild things are.

After almost a year, Max came to the place where the wild things are.  Sendack writes, “When he came to the place where the wild things are, they roared their terrible roars, and gnashed their terrible teeth, and rolled their terrible eyes, and showed their terrible claws.”

The forest is the beginning, and it’s meant to disconcert.  The sea is a long labor, and it may try strength and endurance and will.  Only after surviving (not, it must be said, overcoming, but only surviving) both of these trials, does Max face true fear.

The wild things aren’t external, like the forest or the sea.  The wild things come from within.

Shocking events…events that shake our foundations, are what give us opportunities to journey to the place where the wild things are.  Opportunities to face those things within us, of which we are the most afraid.  Often, people make the journey, they reach the shore, they see the wild things with their terrible teeth and their terrible eyes and their terrible claws, and they turn around.  It’s the safest answer, because facing the wild things requires a tremendous amount of courage.  In order to stand up to them, you have to accept what they are, and accepting them may change you.  It may make you look at your life and really see it for the first time in years.

When faced with their “terrible roars” and the gnashing of their “terrible teeth” and the rolling of their “terrible eyes” and the showing of their “terrible claws”, we see the boy master the beasts.  “BE STILL!” Max said.

When your foundation is shaken, be willing to go on the journey (you may not have a choice, after all.).  Walk through the forest.  If a private boat tumbles by, climb aboard.  And if you come to the place where the wild things are, if you come face to face with your hopes, and dreams, and fears, with self loathing and the knowledge of your own inadequacy, the realization that you’ve sold yourself short, and out, that you could’ve done better and that you aren’t good enough, if you come face to face with the wild things…tame them, with the magic trick of staring into all of their yellow eyes, without blinking once.

Is there a writer in the house?

Published
by
cdeagle
on October 29, 2008
in Life and Writing
. 3 Comments

It’s a blessing that October, which is historically recognized as the month that preceeds November, has 31 days in it.  Had it only 30, we would be at this very moment poised on the cusp of the National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo.

Fear not.  We have an entire extra day of procrastination.  For those of you that don’t know, the participants in  NaNoWriMo are a collection of individuals devoted to a singular purpose: The writing of a novel, being no less than 50,000 words, in thirty consecutive days. 

This year, I’ve cast my lot with that happy band of lunatics.  I’ve got a thumbnail sketch of a plot, a loose idea of some characters, and a vast wilderness of unmapped territory.  My goal isn’t riches, it isn’t literary praise, it isn’t glowing reviews.  It’s simply to finish, and finish I will.  I firmly believe that a human being can endure any torture, however grim, if he only knows that there is an end.  It is because of this belief that I am not terrified by the prospect of writing a novel in 30 days.  It will require sacrifice for a period of time, but the cost can be measured, weighed, and quantified.

I’ve never taken on any creative effort of this scope, though I’ve dreampt of it.  Inspired by a love of reading, and by a father who is a writer, the title of ‘novelist’ is one that I’ve always quietly revered.  To be published is a secret dream.  It’s taken years, and concious effort, to bring myself to a level of comfort where, despite an abysmal lack of self confidence, I can even talk about that desire.  To be honest, I feel foolish, even now.  Then there’s the fear.  Fear of failure, fear of ridicule, fear of being revealed and, having been revealed, having revealed oneself, being mocked.  I know that courage isn’t a lack of fear, but what one does in the face of fear, and while my life isn’t at stake, my pride is on the chopping block.  I’d almost rather risk my life, than reveal as much about myself as I undoubtedly will writing a novel.

Why do it?  If you’re a writer, you probably already know the answer.  Paddy Gillard-Bentley famously said, “The play is the thing!”  and I think that sums it up nicely.  We write because the novel is the thing.  We write because it’s something that we want to do, and are compelled to do, by some part of ourselves which we don’t rightly understand, but which wants us to be miserable.  In the defense of the craft itself, I’ve found that I’m only miserable when I’m thinking about writing and not doing it.  Like climbing a mountain, it’s the last breath before you start that is the most torturous.

That being the case, maybe I should be lamenting the 30 days which this month is comprised of, instead of exulting.  Perhaps if it were only 28 I could have attributed these words towards my 50,000 word goal.  

I’ll leave you with this invitation: Join us.   Lose yourself in a totally new experience.  Take thirty days of your life and convert it into a novel.  To quote William Shakespeare, “Be great in act, as in thought.”

What we’ve become

Published
by
cdeagle
on October 9, 2008
in Business, Economy and Life
. 2 Comments

“It isn’t like it used to be” I said, “You can’t just get an IT job because you have a ponytail and a Unix shirt.”

There was a bubble several years ago, fueled by the misapprehnsion that the internet was a magic portal to riches.  Companies created a visionary product that they would deliver over the internet, they pitched this idea to investors who knew it would make a killing, and invested heavily.  They put real money into an idea because they thought that the future of that idea was profitable.  Venture Capitalists, people who risked money for a living, did this.

During that era, we’ll call it the DotCom bubble, it was easy to be in IT.  In fact, for a period of time the mythos of the “IT Guru” rivaled that of the Lawyer or Doctor.  To say that we had ‘arrived’ would be an understatement.  I say “we” because this time was validation for a subculture which had been broadly and harshly denigrated up to that point, and with which I freely identify: the computer geeks.

It isn’t that we hadn’t been respected in our fields prior to the dotcom bubble, but the width and breadth of our desirability knew no bounds between 1998 and 2000.  We were rockstars.  No expectation was out of reach, no demand went unmet for the expert who knew everything and could get your idea on the internet.  Armed with a Dungeons and Dragon player guide, a witty and incomprehensible t-shirt, and a hairstyle nearly as surly as the affectations of it’s arborist, the Guru’s will was law.

But it wasn’t just the dedicated in our field who benefited during this time.  In conjunction with enrollments in nearly every collegiate Information Technology program increasing, anyone who knew how to turn on a computer was able to easily land a job as an “IT” guy.  

This situation was fueled more by ignorance than the Law of Supply and Demand.  It isn’t that there weren’t enough IT people to get the job done, but that no one knew exactly what kind of IT person they needed to do the job they wanted done.  Lacking clear direction, businesses hired the smartest person they could, allowed that person to set the agenda, and then hired several less competent (sometimes completely incompetent) people to shore up any possible holes in their infrastructure.  

And they should have known better.  Business ought not to allow any support personnel to set its agenda to the extent that IT people were allowed to call the shots during the Dotcom bubble.  That’s not why the bubble burst, but it is a lesson to be learned.  We exist to serve business, business does not exist to fuel interesting ideas, convoluted technologies, or hobbies that we couldn’t otherwise afford.  I digress.

The outrageous pay, the wide respect, and the perks lead even more people to declare themselves Computer Science majors.  Maybe we should have put up signs, but probably it wouldn’t have helped if the gateway to MIT and Rensselaer Poly-Tech said “Abandon all hope, ye who enter”.  The lure of promising, well paid positions in a new, exploding field was too much for some people.  They went, they got degrees, invariably they were given jobs that they either loved or hated, and either did well or failed at.  Because they came to the game late, because their motives were not “pure”, should they be dismissed?  That’s ridiculous.  And it is, again, beside the point.  The point is this: For a period of time, IT was the field to be in.  People flocked to it.

We know what happened next.  The dotcom bubble burst.  Suddenly, it wasn’t enough to have unfortunate hair and know how to work a computer, or say nonsensical things to your boss.  From 2000 to 2002 it was as if corporate America woke from a deep sleep, shook its head to clear its thoughts, and realized that it was being ridiculous.  Information Technology was standardized.  Expectations were laid down.  The attitude of entitlement was no longer accepted.  The technical workforce, no longer the golden child of industry, was forced to grow up and become professional.  

There are fewer of us now, because hundreds of thousands of people couldn’t cut it, or didn’t want to cut it.  Those who never really understood their jobs, or who felt that they were being treated appropriately during the ‘boom’, were the first to go.  Who was next and last are irrelevant, but who stayed matters.  The sharpest, the most reliable, those who integrated well with the business side of the shop, those who had a degree of professionalism, took their jobs seriously, and were committed to the work of Information Technology.  Oh, we still have our laughs.  Though we’ve gotten haircuts and wear ties, we haven’t changed all that much.  We still get more excited about technology than anyone should.  We still feel more alive in a humidity controlled room that’s 68 degrees fahrenheit, and too loud to converse comfortably in, than anywhere else.  And the ties carry the encrypted inside jokes that the t-shirts once did.

What’s the point?  After the dotcom bubble sorted itself out, there was another bubble, fueled by the misapprehension that home values would increase indefinitely, and that it was safe to buy a home of whatever price you could get a loan approved for.  During that era, it was easy to be a Realtor…

 

Autumn

Published
by
cdeagle
on October 7, 2008
in Business, Life and Writing
. 1 Comment

The sun shone down, turning the leaves to fire. We walked through their blaze, hand in hand.  Through the autumnal air rich with the scents of the small town, of lavender and somewhere in the distance a wood fire. We walked, as we had every day for the last 50 years, and though our bodies protested more now, our hearts soared as ever.

—

I’m leaving for Virginia tomorrow, on a business trip to coordinate one of the most difficult tasks of my career thus far.  I’m excited.  I mean, excitement is the primary emotion.  There’s a bit of trepidation in there as well, but mostly, excitement. 

It occurs to me that the things I do now, in the springtime of my life, are meant to prepare me for the greater victories that autumn will bring.  I can only hope that those victories require less labor, and reward me not with material things, but with the respite that I already long for.

I’m up and out the door in six and a half hours, so I’d best be off to bed.

Chasing the wind

Published
by
cdeagle
on August 30, 2008
in Life and Writing
. 0 Comments

I’ve recently realized that I love the smell of dogs.  Not the musty, stale and dirty pet smell, but the real smell.  There’s a difference in odors, and I think it’s based on lifestyle.  Your grandmothers Pomeranian has a specific smell that it developed as a result of hours indoors.  A lifetime spent sleeping under the dining room table and being stroked by old, leathery hands is bound to engender a certain scent.  This is certainly not pleasant, and not what I’m talking about.

To smell like a dog the animal has to have a little freedom.  They have to be allowed to roll in dirt, run through sprinklers, and chase the wind.  They have to be allowed to eat sticks, and wrestle, and dig in mud.  When this dog comes to you, not because he knows he’ll get a treat from you, but because he wants to teach you something about wildness, he is not, in any way, unpleasant.  Though he may muddy your tile, may shed dust on the floor next to your bed, may even, in his exuberance, plant filthy paws on your chest, there’s nothing unclean about this animal.  When you bury your face in his coat you’ll smell three things; the warm scent of a living thing, the green vividness of the world outside your door, and the soft, cool smell of contentment.  Of these things, which can you object to, or what’s not to love?

I suspect that this difference in smell is as much about the healthiness of the animals spirit as it is about their specific living conditions.  How can you flourish when you are not whole?  How can you be whole when a part of your nature is denied?  I’m not advocating complete freedom, or a life without rules by any means.  But dogs, like boys, have a wildness in them which must be encouraged.  To deny it in either species (and I don’t think any of you will disagree that a human boy is its own unique and challenging species) is to deny an essential part of them.

Daddy Time, Redux

Published
by
cdeagle
on June 30, 2008
in Life and music
. 4 Comments

Update: I originally wrote this last night, I’ve rewritten the last two paragraphs because they were essentially unreadable.  Now, I’m going to watch Revolver.

Kim decided to go see a movie with ‘the girls’ this evening, so Abby was left with me. She was fussy at first, but by the time I had her diaper changed, the car loaded, and the baby Bjorn adjusted, she was pretty much conked out. We met her uncle Brian at Starbucks, she woke up to eat and all that, and then he left and we went to Borders, because it’s her favorite.

I found the Orson Scott Card book I was looking for, “Characters and Viewpoint” and Abby got to ride around in her Bjorn. She really enjoys that thing, it settles her right down. That is, until I try to pull her out.

Oddly, the attendant told me that I was the second person wearing a baby (bjorn) who asked him where the books on writing were.

I was thinking about the odds of it. In the same day, two people wearing a baby went to the same Borders and asked the same employee where the “writing” section was. Maybe there’s someone else out there who looked at his daughter, who held her, who kissed her face, and said to himself, “Self…I can’t keep leaving her. There’s got to be a better way to live.” And if he does exist, I’d love to meet him. I’d love to talk to him over a cup of coffee, to figure out what he thinks about writing, and art and music, family and manhood, to see how similar we are.

He may exist, but I’d like to posit another possible reality…What if, in the future, I invent a time machine. I go back in time to get the last copy of a discontinued first edition of an important writing book. Since my future self was wearing a baby, it must have been a very near-future me. And if I was willing to risk Abby in a dangerous and untried time travel machine, the book must be extremely important. Despite my future-self knowing where the writing books were, I’d have to ask that attendant about it, to set the ball in motion…And that’s why I have to take Abby, so the attendant makes the connection and makes that comment to now-me, so now-me will know that the other guy is really future-me, and understand what I need me to do! If that’s the case, I need to go get started on my time machine right now!

Worldbuilding

Published
by
cdeagle
on June 29, 2008
in Life and Writing
. 0 Comments

It’s been a whirlwind weekend, and the majority of my “writing” has occurred in my notebook and in my head.  I’m on the cusp of having some things figured out that will make this project doable, and I might not wait till November to start.  That’s not to say I’m not doing NaNoWriMo, it just might be that the stuff I write for NaNo is the Middle portion of it, instead of the whole thing.

I’m really excited about the ideas I’ve been having, and I’m trying to let them marinate so I don’t mutilate them.  I have a feeling it’s going to turn into a “You can see it when it’s done”.  Even for my trusty Beta readers.  But if any nice little vignettes reveal themselves, I’ll certainly share them.

On Magic: I love it, and I want to create a magical world, but I don’t want magic to be a panacea for all problems.  I have some interesting consequences, as discussed briefly in a previous post.  Hopefully my concept is unique, and not…inane.  Look, I don’t want balls of fire smashing down buildings.  That’s not subtle or entertaining.  If you’re going to make a ball of fire it should behave like fire.  Not smash through a building.  I get that it’s magic fire, I do.  But Magic Fire is still Fire, right?  …Right?  Books are about humans dealing with problems.  Imbuing them with super-powers that obviate character development or personal sacrifice is lame and juvenile

I think that’s all I have for right now.  Work in 8 hours, time for bed…3 hours ago.

Hands-Free Cellphone law…Wow.

Published
by
cdeagle
on June 27, 2008
in Economy and Life
. 2 Comments

File this under “waste of taxpayer dollars” and/or “useless legislation.” Effective July 1st, 2008, California vehicle code prohibits the use of cell phones while operating a motor vehicle. There are several exceptions, but the only one that’s pertinent for most people is the “Unless you’re using a hands-free device” exception. The vehicle code reads as follows:

23123. (a) A person shall not drive a motor vehicle while using a wireless telephone unless that telephone is specifically designed and configured to allow hands-free listening and talking, and is used in that manner while driving.[1]

Why is this law stupid? There are so many reasons. All this law says is that if you’re talking on the phone while driving you must use a handsfree device (a headset, or on- or in-ear piece). The implication is that the act of holding up the phone, not the conversation itself, is what distracts drivers and causes them to be dangerous.

False, according to the University of South Carolina:

“We measured their attention level and found that subjects were four times more distracted while preparing to speak or speaking than when they were listening,” said Almor of the 47 people who participated in the experiment. “People can tune in or out as needed when listening.”[2]

And that makes sense. It’s not really distracting to hold your hand up to your face. It’s also pretty easy to listen to things without crashing. Talk radio has been around for a while, and hasn’t caused many major accidents, I’m sure. Here’s an easy test: Next time you’re driving, turn on your radio, then put your hand on your cheek. Continue to drive. Did you crash? Good.

While this law prohibits something that categorically is not dangerous, it also fails to prohibit things that are very obviously dangerous. What does it not prohibit?

  • Texting while driving
  • Checking your email while driving
  • Using a laptop while driving
  • Playing with your GPS unit while driving
  • Using a typewriter while driving
  • Kneading dough for a pizza crust while driving

    You get the idea. Any law that goes through the legislature costs California money. Pushing through stupid, ineffective laws that do nothing to improve quality of life or safeguard the community might be how the legislature stays busy in the slow season, but it shouldn’t be acceptable to those of us whom they work for.

    [1] Vehicle Code Section 23123
    [2] Talking Distractions: Study Shows Why Cell Phones and Driving Don’t Mix

    Hiring Preferences

    Published
    by
    cdeagle
    on June 27, 2008
    in Business and Life
    . 0 Comments

    In the world there are somewhere in the neighborhood of 5 billion different types of people.  Because I wouldn’t even COUNT to five billion (I could, but I wouldn’t) I’m not going to talk about each type.  But I will take 5 billion people and greatly simplify their astonishing uniqueness.  When hiring for a technical position I’ve run into four broad types of people.

    1. Qualified / Unmotivated

    This person is perfect for a position as a mall security guard, but may not be proactive enough to look for problems before they occur.  The problems with the Qualified / Unmotivated candidate often stem from their qualification.  Because they have experience with XYZ and know enough to recover from most major issues with the system, they’ve become lax in upkeep.  It costs them less time to repair a problem that has occured than it does to be proactive and take steps to prevent that problem, so they wait for disaster to strike before doing anything.

    2. Unqualified / Unmotivated

    The best combination of useless traits, the Unqualified / Unmotivated candidate often comes with an interesting Fringe Benefit: they think they’re the best thing since sliced bread.  These people either delude themselves, or know the truth and grossly exaggerate their own skill level.  In addition to being completely unqualified for the position you’ve advertised, they are so impressed with themselves that they feel no obligation to even pretend like they’ve studied, or are willing to study, the systems that you work with.

    3. Unqualified / Motivated

    These candidates can become the rock-stars of your team.  They know they’re starting out at a disadvantage, and if they’re sufficiently motivated and interested in their jobs they’ll expend Personal Energy* to bridge the gap, often learning more about their given responsibilities than a Qualified / Unmotivated person would ever learn.  The Unqualified / Motivated employee can be a boon to a manager that is only authorized to hire a Junior level resource.

    4. Qualified / Motivated

    This combination does not exist.  It has been rumored in several organizations, but I have seen no direct evidence of it being real.  People who are motivated by a desire to learn and excel (to be elite) are constantly putting themselves into positions for which they are unqualified.  By refusing to linger in a job that they are totally qualified for, but unchallenged by, they push themselves through often rapid and extreme personal and professional growth.  These are the only types of people that will ever reach the pinnacle of their profession, and when they get there they often take a very “Meta” view of their profession.  They look down at the mountain that they have climbed and start innovating, making the mountain better.  What else is there to challenge yourself with when you’ve mastered something, except improving the thing that you’ve just mastered?

    I think that the best employee to hire is the one who has shown evidence of their ability to learn (growth within each previous position) evidence of responsibility (growth of duties and tenure), and that can articulate a desire to learn and a motivation for that desire.  Irrespective of their experience with the specific technology that your company specializes in.  If you find this person, and you can hire either them or a lukewarm but well qualified individual who has been doing the same job for 10 years, there is almost no scenario in which it will be better for your department or company to hire the lukewarm “Qualified / Unmotivated” candidate.

    In fact, hiring this person would be actively detrimental to your productivity.  Maybe next week I’ll write a post on the importance of Culture vs. Consistency.

    On a completely unrelated note, is it tacky to Share your own blog post in your Google Reader?  ;)

    *: Personal Energy is a broad term that I use to describe the chi, the animus, the life-force of an employee outside of work hours.  This “personal energy” is usually used to hang out with friends, or go to Borders, or watch Lost.  Sometimes, it’s used to read technical manuals, write or tinker with programs that are work related, or think about better ways of doing ones job.  If a person is passionate about what they’re doing, and about the Vision of their organization, they will expend Personal Energy to accomplish Work Goals.