Hallo Freunde,
Der Große Walth Jaquith hat wieder eine seiner einzigartigen Parodien geschrieben, diesmal über Autodesk Marketing und Developement, die den User nicht verstehen wollen...
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<SLAM!>
"DESKUS!!"
To say that Simpleton Modeler was a little upset would be akin to
remarking that a rattlesnake was not an ideal pet for a four-year-old.
"I'm in the study, dear boy." The tone of Deskus' voice brought
Simpleton up short for a moment. Whatever else might be said about Dr. Otto
Deskus, he did have a certain legendary resiliency about him. That plucky,
energetic optimism had seen the doctor through many tough times and not a
few misadventures. Now he sounded tired; almost (who would think it?)
defeated.
That weary note in the doctor's voice didn't totally quell the anger
roiling around in Simpleton's gut, but it did shock him into getting it
under control. A little. For the moment. It couldn't, however, prepare
him for the sight that greeted him when he made his way to the doctor's
spacious study. As always, he couldn't suppress a pang of covetous jealousy
over Deskus' extensive library-all those glorious books! But it was Otto
Deskus himself that drew Simpleton's eye, and that brought him up short
again. It was turning out to be a morning of progressively greater blows to
Simpleton Modeler's psyche.
Dr. Otto Deskus, dark genius behind the far-reaching Deskus Empire,
tireless explorer and inventor, icon of several exclusive country clubs,
dandy of the international social scene and captain and champion of the
local chess club, sat slumped in his great reading chair--sans book--in his
bathrobe and slippers.
At eleven o'clock in the morning.
The doctor's snowy white hair was disheveled; almost as though (if you
could believe it) Deskus had not combed it at all that morning. A
salt-and-pepper shadow of stubble was on his chin. There was a coffee stain
on the front of his robe. Simpleton Modeler, who had never in all their
years of association seen Otto Deskus other than nattily dressed and
immaculately groomed, was astounded.
"Have a seat, please, my friend," said the doctor. "I'd offer you tea,
but.the water seems to be cold."
Dr. Deskus sounded.old. The last shreds of Simpleton's anger slipped
away. He numbly sat down in the overstuffed chair across from the doctor,
and waited. At length, Deskus spoke.
"How did it ever come to this?
"What has it come to, doctor?" queried Simpleton quietly.
"Too big.out of control.out of my hands," answered Dr. Deskus. "No
dream anymore; just a bunch of bureaucrats running around protecting their
turf. And marketing..."
"Yeah, marketing," said Simpleton. The doctor looked up. Never in a
thousand years could Simpleton Modeler have imagined Otto Deskus with tears
in his eyes. But they were there now.
"I know the thing I've created doesn't have enough of a soul to be
sorry, Simpleton, but I am," said the doctor.
After everything else that had happened that morning, the fact that Dr.
Deskus had actually addressed him by his first name almost seemed normal.
Simpleton Modeler just gave a stunted, humorless laugh. "We thought that
with those imbecilic DWF ads that they'd gone as low as they possibly could.
But Viagra?"
"I could have told them," now the doctor was getting a bit angry
himself. "How blind can they be? I could have told them, but.nobody asks
me anymore. They're so hidebound and insulated. To make matters worse,
they never leave anyone in one spot long enough for there to be any true
accountability. Blast them and their bloody org charts!"
"Dr. Deskus, I'm in shock enough as it is. If you start swearing I'm
going to end up needing therapy."
The doctor stared at Modeler for a moment, and chuckled quietly. Then
abruptly he sobered up again. "It's really surprising, you know," he said.
"A lot of our customers have stuck with us while they've played endless
musical software with them. How many viewers have there been-just simple
file viewers! And they still can't seem to get it right. Then the
customers showed a remarkable loyalty when far too many got jerked around
with their subscriptions. After that there was the whole Inventor Pro
debacle. So easy to make a promise.so easy to break it. Next to all that,
this seems like such a little thing. You wouldn't think it would be a big
deal...
"Which is precisely the point," said Modeler. "It goes to show they don
't really understand their customers at all."
"True," answered the doctor. "It's just insane. I'm beginning to think
that those marketing boys have no pride at all, and so they can't imagine
anyone else having any either. Sexual enhancement drugs! Yegads; you just
don't embarrass your customers like that!"
"I wish that was all it was," said Simpleton.
The doctor gave him a sharp look. "What do you mean?"
"Even you don't fully understand," said Simpleton. "Let me explain it,
doctor. Yes, those ads are professionally embarrassing, and that's a bad
deal, but there's a deeper problem yet. Who uses your software, Dr.
Deskus?"
Deskus was a bit perplexed. "Engineers, designers and architects?"
"Some, yes," replied Simpleton. "They're the ones who get the
attention, but they're not the majority. Try again."
"I'm afraid I'm adrift"
"Just people, doctor," said Simpleton Modeler. "Men and women who punch
a timecard. That's who runs your software, doctor; Joe average. You don't
think about them much, because most of the time some middle management type
is running the department, so that's who you hear from, and that's who you
tend to focus on. But the majority of the people who are actually pushing
the mouse around are just common working folks."
"Alright dear boy, I'll grant you that. But I'm still not seeing your
point."
"Think about it a moment, doctor. These people don't go out and get the
information they use to do their work. Someone else does that, and yet they
are often held responsible for it. They don't set the work schedule either,
but they're expected to keep the deadlines. They create the documentation
on which entire industries run, but are often paid on a par with menial
laborers, and given no more respect. They are too often regarded as little
more than overhead. These people are normally expected to be proficient in
not one but four demanding disciplines."
"Four?"
"Yes four. First, they have to have an intimate knowledge of the field
they're working in. How else could anyone produce accurate working
documents? This is often the only one of the four that the individual they
work for is required to know, but he gets compensated much more handsomely
than they. Second, they have to know the drafting standards that apply to
their industry. No two are the same, and not one I know of makes perfect
sense, but these people are expected to know them. Then they must be
proficient in the software itself. You are aware, aren't you doctor, that
the software you produce is fairly complex to say the least? That gaining
an intimate and productive knowledge of that software is a Herculean
endeavor in itself?"
"I am," answered Dr. Deskus. "But I've never really thought about it
this way. Please go on; what's the fourth requirement?"
"Knowledge of the computer systems that the software runs on, of course.
Your software and its requirements, doctor, are over the head of the
majority of the IT jockeys running around out there. They don't understand,
and have little sympathy for the needs of the users who operate your
products daily. The people who work in our world have significantly higher
requirements than those running simple word processing and spreadsheet
programs. Therefore, it often falls on the users themselves to keep their
machines running-quite often in a suspicious and hostile environment."
"I see," said Deskus. "So what does all this mean in terms of our
subject?"
"Simply this, Dr. Deskus: To recap, these people have precious little
control over their own careers. They are often more knowledgeable in
several categories than the people they work for, but are forced to take a
subordinate role because that individual has the college degree or is
willing to sell his soul to the middle management god. They get a fraction
of the respect they deserve, and shoulder more than their share of the blame
if something goes wrong. Their days often consist of a long series of
interruptions, and the frustration of having to do a job over through no
fault of their own is commonplace. They are at the mercy of any number of
outside elements whom they rely upon for the information they work with.
But those elements' first priority is not supplying that information; it's a
side issue to them. All this they do day in and day out, doctor. And they
do it at a wage that you would sneer at. And when budgets get tight, whose
training is the first thing to get cut? Assuming, of course, that their
company is the least bit enlightened and a training budget even exists.
"In light of all this, Dr. Deskus, do you really think it was such a
great idea for your 'brilliant' marketing team to bring to mind the
professional impotence that is all too often the hallmark of a drafting
career by suggesting that the users of your software need the services of a
little blue pill?"
"No, I guess not," replied the doctor in a subdued voice.
"You guess correctly," said Modeler, who had once again remembered his
anger. He got up abruptly and paced to the door, then paused, looking over
his shoulder to fix the doctor with a pointed stare.
"Now, Dr. Deskus, I have a few suggestions for you. First, go get
cleaned up. Take a shower, shave, and get dressed. Then put that teapot
back on the stove, and fix yourself a cup. Make it a strong one. While you
're drinking it, think long and hard about how you're going to take your
empire back from the marketing monster, and put some vision and sanity and
basic integrity back into it. Then, Dr. Deskus, I suggest that you pay your
offices a visit. There are, I believe, some serious issues there that
require your immediate attention!"
<SLAM!>
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mfg - Leo
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