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March 25, 2005

Failure, Failure, Burning Bright

Every successful consultant has to sit and wonder when that great, next failure will occur. You know the one where you tell a customer you can do this one thing only to find you can't deliver because the technology isn't ready, resources didn't pan out, or the vision was too grand to fit into the timeline or budget. See, great consultants are like Rock Stars; they get paid handsomely to put themselves out for everyone to see, then bear the brunt of the ridicule when they trip on the stairs and fall on their face to the tune of 100,000 screaming fans. So, how does a successful consultant parse success when the price of failure is so high?

Around 200 years ago, William Blake wrote the unforgettable poem, "The Tiger". Couched in metaphors for the night sky and metallurgy, Blake explores the duality of good and evil, asking if one creates the other. Out of profound respect, I must quote the entire work:

TIGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Let's face it, on first read, it sounds like most poetry written 200 years ago: ancient. But consider the parallel to paralyzing professional failure in the consulting industry:

  1. Fearful Symmetry – Doesn't it seem like your greatest failures occur under the most inexplicable, almost contrived, circumstances? Like this last time when you placed this one really talented guy in charge of the implementation testing but six months into the project his family finds him a wife in India so he travels to Asia just in time to get hit by a tsunami. (You know I'm not making that one up.)
  2. What the hand dare seize the fire? – Don't your best failure stories occur on the eve of your greatest achievement? I just love those failures. "We were perfectly prepared for the user demonstration. People were going to eat this stuff up! Nothing like this had been done before. Then, in the middle of the presentation, POOF!, everything stopped working. We muttered some lame excuse, cut the demo short and slunk back to our cube." (Yeah, that one was mine, too.)
  3. Did He smile His work to see? Did He who made the lamb make thee? – Afterward, don't you just sit around and think to yourself, "I used to be good. I used to make customers gush with delight. Everything worked back then. Everything was under budget. Am I that same person?"

The truth is that being great at what you do means experiencing great failure. You can't have one without the other and be human. When I direct singers (yes, I have a life outside of LIMS consulting, thank you very much), I tell them to remember one thing: If I can't hear your every mistake, then you're not trying hard enough." Why? Because if your failures aren't big enough then your successes can't be either.

I recently read an article titled, "Fantasy LIMS, you know... for the kids, not for your lab", which was a review of the Autoscribe's LimsBuilder software. (Yes, this is a review of a review. Cut me some slack). In this review (not mine, his), the author said, (and no, I'm not making this up) "you may be able to build a fiction LIMS that is not practical and may set you up for expectations that lead to disappointment. Don't let fantasy get in the way of the reality of the generally defective world of computer software," and, "Set your expectations low."

[Shudder.]

Now, I'm sure whoever wrote this is a really nice guy. I'm certain his article went on to say some blithely intelligent things, but I'll come right out and say what everyone else is thinking, "May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your armpits." No? Not thinking that? Hrm....might just be me.

The low road is painless: Don't require the greatest features because someone might not be able to deliver. Don't expect too much because we all know the software industry is flawed. Well, I'm sorry, but that road isn't for me. I'd rather fall on my face in front of a thousand than sing in the shower for one. Call me an idealist, but that's my goal because we all know that slipping and falling in the shower is just as painful – it makes no difference how many people watch.

In conclusion, here's my manifesto:

  1. I'm going to have the highest expectations.
  2. I'm going to be realistic about how much I take on at one time.
  3. I'm going to be aggressive in my pursuit of complete success.
  4. When I fail, I'm going to cry like a little girl, dust myself off and start back at step one.
  5. When I succeed, I'm going to be happy, pat myself on the back, and scoff at those who expected less.

No great failure burns less than the one followed by great success.

And thank you William, your poetry astounds me.

Posted by Jeff Vannest at March 25, 2005 03:41 AM

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