Thursday, September 1, 2016

This Week on #TheTestingShow: Real Work vs Bureaucratic Silliness

I have come to realize that I am terrible in the shameless self promotion department. I have been actively involved the past several months with producing and packaging "The Testing Show", but I've not been very good about talking about it here. Usually, I feel like I'm repeating myself, or I'm rehashing what I already talked about on the episode in question.

When Matt takes the show on the road, however, I do not have that same issue. This most recent episode of The Testing Show, titled "Real Work vs. Bureaucratic Silliness" was recorded at Agile 2016 in Atlanta. As such, Matt was the only regular panelist there, but he put together a group consisting of Emma Armstrong, Dan Ashby, Claire Moss and Tim Ottinger. For starters, this episode has the best title of any podcast we've yet produced for The Testing Show (wish I came up with it, but it's Tim's title). I think it's safe to say all of us have our share of stuff we like to do, or at least the work that is challenging and fulfilling enough that we look forward to doing it. We also all have our share of "busywork" that is inflicted on us for reasons we can't quite comprehend. Tim puts these two forces on a continuum with, you guessed it, Real Work on one side, and Bureaucratic Silliness on the other.

I think there's an additional distinction that needs to be included in here, and that's when to recognize that some task, behavior, or check point actually is an occupational necessity, and when it is truly Bureaucratic Silliness (BS). In my everyday world, let's just say this tends to grade on a curve. Most of the time, BS comes about because of a legitimate issue at one point in time. Case in point; some years ago, in spite of an extensive automation suite and a robust Continuous Integration and active deploy policy, we noticed some odd things passing through and showing up as bugs. many of these things were not areas we had anticipated, and some of them just plain required a human being to look them over. Thus, we developed a release burn down, which is fairly open ended, has a few comments of areas we should consider looking at, but doesn't go into huge details as to what to specifically do. The burn down is non negotiable, we do it each release, but what we cover is flexible. We realized some time back that it didn't make sense to check certain areas over and over again, especially if no disruption had occurred around those features. If we have automated tests that already exercise those areas, then that likewise makes it a candidate to not have to be eyeballed every time. If a feature touches a lot of areas, or we have done a wholesale update of key libraries, then yes, the burn down becomes more extensive and eyeballing certain areas is more important, but not every release every single time.

Usually, when BS creeps into the system, it's because of fear. Fear of being caught in a compromising situation again. Fear of being yelled at. Fear of messing something up. We cover our butts. It's natural. Once or twice, or until the area settles down or we figure out the parameters of possible issues, makes sense, but when we forget to revisit what we are doing, and certain tasks just become enshrined, then we miss out on truly interesting areas, while we go through BS to the point that we would rather pull our intestines out with a fork rather than have to spend one more minute doing this particular task (yes, that's a Weird Al Yankovic reference ;) ).

Anyway, were I part of the panel, that's part of what I might have brought up for discussion? If you want to hear what the group actually talked about, well, stop reading here and listen to The Testing Show :).

Friday, July 29, 2016

Consider the Source: A Tester Invades Philmont

One of the more entertaining aspects of our trek would have to be the final two days, in that we were joined by an expedition mate that, let's just say, is a little different than the average hiker:


Testhead readers... meet "T.K."

Actually, his real name is "30", which is the number he wears around his neck for identification purposes,  but part of the "Burro Expedition" experience is that each crew gets a burro to join them for two days, and the crew gets to name the burro for the duration of the trek. Needless to say, it would be impossible to keep track of the names changing all the time, so the burros are officially known by their numbers, but are also conditioned to respond to any name they get called. 

During our trek, the boys talked a lot about the Anime series "Angel Beats" (which also happens to be one of my favorites), and we joked a lot about who our favorite character in the series was. That character was "T.K.", a long haired, always moving dancer who would speak in nonsensical English phrases (even in the original Japanese recording). When we met burro number 30, and he came up to us and looked at us with a circular head bob, we all laughed at the similarity to the movement T.K. did in the anime, and we all said "Hey, let's call him T.K.!" With that, T.K. became an official member of the crew, and would help us on the trek for the last twenty miles or so by carrying some of our gear for us.

As we were making our way to the Baldy Skyline camp area, we had a number of choices we could take to get there. As we scanned the area, we saw that there was a road that looked to be a straight shot up to the area, and pretty short by comparison. We started walking towards the camp and for the first bit of the stretch, T.K was walking alongside us and made no fuss. When we saw a fork in the road, and the trail that continued up to the camp area came into view, TK started walking that way, but we guided him back to the main road. Over the course of the next few minutes, TK walked slower and slower, and finally stopped. We tried to coax him forward, and we'd get a few steps in, and then he'd stop again. We did this about half a dozen times, and each time, it was getting to be progressively harder to move TK further up the road.  

Additionally, as we looked at T.K., we had the impression he was looking at us as if to say "hey, you guys are all idiots! Did you see that trail that forked off the main road a while back? That's where we're supposed to go. Trust me, I've done this trek more than a few times, I know how to get there!" Still, we felt confident that our short cut would work and save us time, so we persevered. I've had experience leading horses and burros in the past, so I took it upon myself to hold his bridle and lead rope and coax him up the road, and ultimately, he let me lead him up the road.

The road we had chosen changed. It became steep. It was straight, sure, but it was also a laborious climb to get up to the ridge line where the camp was. It was tiring, it was in direct sunlight, and by the time we reached the top of the road and the ridge line, we realized that, while we were at the top of the hill, the actual camp area we needed to be at was still about two kilometers east. As we trudged to the camp area, we saw the trail converse with the upper road, and we also saw that the trail was coming out of a wooded area, with plenty of shade, the trail meandering through a range of switchbacks that, while longer in total distance, would have been much kinder to our knees and backs. As I looked at T.K., it felt as though he was saying "See, I told you you were an idiot! I could have led you here and saved you a lot of hassle, but no, you had to go your own way. How did that work out for you?"

Does this sound familiar? I know it does to me. I've had this experience with my teams. We are so sure that what we are going to do will save us time, it will be different than all the previous times we've tried to meet a goal, but someone, usually one with a lot of experience, puts up resistance and tries to point out what we should be doing. Often, that advice goes unheeded, only to come back and bite us later when we realize that the insight was valid, accurate, and based in experience, but our hopes and optimism for a faster way (or a looming deadline) blinds us to the hard earned experience. 

I chuckled as I thought about this the following day, when we left the Baldy Skyline camp to head down to the next area and followed the main trail. T.K. just started going, and he barely stopped. He knew where he was, and he knew where we needed to go. Sure, we consulted our maps to be sure, but otherwise, the trail was the most direct route, and he just plowed ahead until we chose to call a halt for a rest break. During the remainder of the trek, as we were debating ways we should go, I'd quietly nudge T.K. to move forward, and I'd see where he wanted to go. Typically, I'd encourage following his lead, and each time, it would prove to be the most direct and easy to navigate route. Sure, it would have been more adventurous to bushwhack, but I'm sure T.K. appreciated not having to climb over or around felled trees or other obstacles.

There are times when new vistas are open to you, and there is no trail to follow, and one way is as good as any other. At times, though, there are those who have gone before us, and instinctively know when we are going the wrong way. It's wise to step back and listen to those who express reservations. Who know how much sweat and toil they might save us if we listen to them ;).

Thursday, July 28, 2016

The Passion of the Champion: A Tester Invades Philmont

A couple of days ago, I shared the challenges that some of our youth leaders faced when they wanted to break camp and get to the next destination. Sometimes they had their act together. Many times they didn't. It would have been very easy for me to play the dictator and push and yell to get the team moving. I've done that before. It's very efficient, but it does nothing to develop actual leadership or confidence in abilities.

This was especially true the third day into our trek. Our Wilderness Gia wanted to do a special ceremony/presentation around the Leave No Trace principles. He'd planned out the whole thing, and was really looking forward to doing it. That third day, we had a late start, and we had to cover a lot of ground, much of which was unmarked and required us to climb and descend a ridge, cross a river, and make our way to that day's base camp. By the time we arrived, we were all bone tired, most of the day was gone, program areas were closing, and one of our boys was exhibiting signs of altitude sickness. Needless to say, I had to tell our Wilderness Gia that the ceremony he wanted to do wouldn't be possible today. Based on the performance of the group today, tomorrow wasn't looking too good either, but we'd figure something out.

The reaction I got back to those comments was both unexpected and slightly amusing. He fumed, looked at me with complete disbelief, frustration and shades of anger. He was really invested in having this ceremony take place. Seeing this, I looked over to my associate advisor, asked for a minute, and said "want to try an experiment?" My fellow advisor was game, and with that I returned back to our Gia and said:

"A sunset ceremony just isn't possible under the circumstances, but would you be willing to shoot for a sunrise ceremony? Look at the ridge line up there. It will take a little while to make the climb to the saddle, but we could do it in about an hour. Problem is, we are going up and over the ridge, so coming back for our stuff and doing it all again doesn't make sense. If you want the sunrise ceremony, you will need to make sure everyone is up, packed, and ready to leave camp at 5:00 a.m. That means waking up at 4:00 a.m. to make the departure time. Doable? Yes! Do I think you all will be able to? Surprise me :)!"

With that, I prepped for dinner, went to bed, and figured the sunrise ceremony would likely not happen. 4:00 a.m. rolls around, and what do I hear but the Gia up and about, waking his fellow trek mates, working with them to get out of their tents, those same tents broken down and packed, and hustling to get everyone ready to go. Each opportunity he came around, I asked if there was any cause I could lend my hands to (a phrase the crew got to know regularly; I didn't tell anyone what they should or shouldn't do, but if they asked me to do something, I was always ready and willing to do so). Needless to say, we got out of camp in record time, and we made the scramble up the ridge line to the saddle, found a great spot to set up, and he led us in an excellent presentation that included meditation, discussion and watching a beautiful clear sunrise come up over the Great Plains and peek through the Sangre de Cristo mountains. What's more, we had an easy downhill descent into the Valle Vidal, a flat walk to our re-provisioning spot, and the ability to arrive at our destination for the day at 10:00 a.m. We had plenty of time to set up camp, relax, make lunch, join in activities at the base came, and basically bask in the fact that today's mileage, while comparable to yesterday's, went faster and so much more comfortably.

What was the difference? One of the youth leaders was on fire. He was on a mission to make this ceremony happen. His drive helped carry everyone else along. He spelled out the importance, what it meant to him, and what he himself was willing to do to make it happen. As an adult leader, I do that all the time, but there's a considerable difference when a youth leader decides something is important enough to push the rest of the group along.

If there's an initiative you think is important, be a champion for it, but better yet, encourage others to champion that initiative alongside you. Our Gia wasn't successful just because he was persistent (don't get me wrong, that helped a lot ;) ). He was successful because he was able to get the other boys to share in his vision. He got them excited about doing what he had planned. That turned into action and results. More to the point, it gave them an excellent contrast between the rushed and harried pace of yesterday, and the nearly effortless and smooth feeling of today. I was able to use both mornings as models for what to do and what not to do. It would be great to say that they always made early morning camp breaks after that, but that would be untrue. We had our share of late days after this, too, but it made a stark contrast for them to see the difference in how they performed, and felt, comparing the late departure day to the early departure day. Over time, it became easy to help them share that narrative, and encourage them to get the early start on the day, but in those cases, someone else was able to champion a reason, and get others to rally around their flag.

Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Pay Attention to Your Team: A Tester Invades Philmont

One of the factors that I had to deal with during our Philmont expedition was paying attention to the health of the participants. One of the more challenging issues, and something many of us were not used to dealing with, was altitude sickness. In a general sense, altitude sickness is the effect on the body of a lack of oxygen at high elevations, and is usually felt by people who have not had a chance to acclimatize to a higher elevation environment. Simple symptoms had to do with exhaustion, hyperventilation, and an overall feeling of nausea. In this environment, we had to weigh how long it would take us to get from point A to point B, but at the same time, monitoring what could be developing health problems that, left untreated, could become serious.

One of the most disheartening things is to watch someone physically suffering through a hike. The smile leaves their faces, there's a grim look to them, similar to the "thousand yard stare" that was often used to describe soldiers, and on occasion, listening to boys coming into camp literally breaking down from exhaustion (in some cases rendering them to the point of tears). We had practiced backpacking scenarios for months, and we had gone through numerous terrain variations as well as carrying heavy loads on these practice runs. We felt sure we had met the rigors required, but when you live at sea level, and the highest elevation in the vicinity is just a little over 3,000 feet, there's just no way of preparing for days at 10,000 and 12,000 feet without going to those elevations and hanging out for a few weeks. We didn't have that luxury, and at certain times, we paid for that.

Be Alert and Attentive to Your Team

Each morning, I would do a simple ritual with all of the participants. While I would not dictate the activities of the trek itself, I did have authority over the safety and health of the expedition, so every morning I ensured that every participant was leaving camp with a liter of water for every hour we anticipated being on the trail (meaning we carried four to eight liters of water each day). Additionally, I made sure each participant had a separate Nalgene bottle that was topped off and mixed with an electrolyte drink mix (Gatorade, All Sport, Skratch, etc.) and made sure that they were drinking from it regularly. It may seem counter-intuitive, but you have to actively think about drinking water when you are engaged in long hikes. I found that, when I got into the zone of a hike, I would go for extended periods without drinking anything. At seal level, that may not be a big deal, but at higher elevations, the body goes through more water more quickly. If you feel thirsty, you are already in trouble (as in you are already dealing with moderate dehydration).

One thing we found helpful, especially on quick elevation rises, was to use a "procrastination dash" approach to the hike. We often struggled with trying to find a balance between keeping a good pace and allowing for adequate rest and recovery (because elevation sickness becomes more pronounced if you do not allow yourself adequate rest). To this end, we decided to do a cadence of ten minutes active hiking and two minutes of "standing rest". We would repeat this sequence ten times, which would give us 100 minutes of active hiking and 20 minutes of rest. At the end of the two hours, we could take off our packs and have a genuine rest for twenty minutes. The rest breaks were mainly so I could ensure everyone was drinking water and actually see them do it. Over time, we were able to shake of the headaches, nausea and other symptoms that were becoming a regular occurrence.

This may seem like an odd story to relate to from a testing perspective, but I see similar parallels when I am looking at skill levels and abilities on our respective teams. Some people are super resilient and can take on anything, while others struggle and suffer quietly. As I watched the participants deal with the challenges of the trek, I came to realize that some would complain easily. They wore their discomfort on their sleeves, and it was easy to tell where they were on a mood level and a health level. The real challenge were my "stoics". I had a few guys who were determined to not let me "see them sweat". They never complained, never gave me any reason to believe they could be in danger, and yet each and every member of the expedition at some point dealt with symptoms of altitude sickness.

For the stoics, their conditions were often more challenging, because I didn't see the signs until they were deep in the hole. Likewise, with our teams, we may have those same stoics among us, willing to shoulder their load and muscle through, but lacking in technique or additional understanding that could make them more effective. Too often, we don't learn about what the stoics need until they have actually cracked or gotten themselves into a situation where they can't hide any longer. From this trek, I realized that it was worth a moment's annoyance to confirm that everyone was doing what they needed to do, and was getting the food, water and rest that they needed. Our work teams have similar needs, if not so physically oriented.

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

A Tester Invades Philmont: Lessons from the Trail

Well, I made it.

An event that I had trained for, lost a lot of weight for, and did a lot of practice runs with a scout troop to help make us eligible to participate in has come to an end. I've been home for a week now, and I've been able to think a bit on the various events, activities and opportunities to learn that I, and my Troop, were subjected to.

Six youth and two adult advisors took to the backcountry of the Sangre de Cristo mountains in New Mexico for two and a half weeks, and we all lived to tell the tale. It's a safe bet everyone who participated in this trek came back changed. For the next few posts, I'd like to talk about some of those changes, and what I learned while I was unplugged from civilization for that time.



First, a little background. A part of my scout troop participated in a trek at Philmont Scout Ranch. Philmont is the largest of the USA High Adventure bases used by the Boy Scouts of America. Other properties used for High Adventure bases are Northern Tier (located in the Boundary Waters region of Minnesota), Florida Sea Base (located in the Florida Keys), and Summit Bechtel Reserve (located in the mountains of West Virginia), but Philmont is the one that most Scouts have heard of, and for many, it's the ultimate destination for a high adventure trek at least once in their scouting lives.

Crews are limited in size, from a minimum of seven to a maximum of twelve. All participant need to be at least fourteen years old. There are weight requirements and fitness requirements for both youth and adults to attend. We quickly learned that these were not suggestions, but genuinely necessary for successful completion of treks. For 2016, Philmont offers thirty-five possible treks for crews to take part in, and encourage early selection of a variety of options. Once you get assigned an Itinerary, that's the one you do, and everything is built around your itinerary. Ours was #10, which focused on going into the Northern part of the Philmont property, as well as hiking into regions of Carson National Forest and Valle Vidal, as well as going into places where trails and trail markers didn't exist, or at least would make the journey longer if we were to follow them.

An expedition is led by a Crew Leader, along with a Chaplain's Aide and a Wilderness Gia (Guide). All of these jobs are held by youth members of the expedition. Ideally, adults advise, but call no shots and get no votes on what the expedition does. Needless to say, what is ideal and what actually happens often doesn't line up, but more on that in a bit ;). We determined that "we advisors" would do little in the way of active management of the trek. We would offer suggestions, we would model behavior, we would give examples of things to do for the boys to learn from, but as much as was in our power, we would not interfere with their decisions or operations. This gave us ample opportunity to teach, but it also gave us ample opportunities to learn about group dynamics and leadership in general.

At the outset, I want to say that I am immensely proud of this expedition and what it accomplished while it was out in the field. I'll dare say I learned as much from them, if not more so, than they did from me. Still, there were some interesting observations I'd like to share.

Leadership is a Walk

If there was any one thing I wish I could go back and help train this expedition better to accomplish, it would be to see how they could execute on the plans they made. Leadership is more than making a plan and telling people the plan. That part is easy. The difficulty was actually getting the group to execute on what they agreed to do, and seeing the consequences of not executing. The two adult advisors shared a tent, as well as some common equipment. We both knew what we had, how much space it took, and what it would mean for us to carry it on our backs for ten days. Because of this, we split up our obligations. We split the gear, including the tent, and we knew what we needed to do. Each morning, we'd wake up 15 minutes prior to designated wake up, because that's just what a leader does; we know we have to take care of our own business before we can be of any help to anyone else.

We'd wake, stow our personal gear, break down our tent, finish packing our packs, put them in the pack line, and then we'd sit in a central area and wait for the boys to do their thing. Some mornings, we'd be waiting an hour or more for the leaders to wake up and get the rest of the group moving. Sure, it would be easy for us to walk over, tap on the tents, and remind the leaders what time they said they wanted to wake up. At times, we would, quite loudly, talk among ourselves to give the hint that they should be awake and active. Simple things that we took for granted seemed to be a challenge for some participants, such as setting an alarm to wake up, or to do something as simple as to ask one of the adults to use their alarm, and follow up with them to get them up on time.

Another stumbling block to execution was the stowing and transporting of shared expedition gear. Bear bags, ropes, carabiners, pots and camp stoves were the property of the entire group, so provisions had to be made for each item to be carried by someone. On several of the early days of the trek, the delay in getting everything packed was "who is going to carry (fill in the blank item)?". Everyone knew what they needed to carry that belonged to them, but allocating items that were expedition equipment seemed to be a recurring problem. Each day, someone waited to see who would make the first move to carry whichever item needed to be carried. Few were the ones willing to just divvy up the items and say "I'll carry this" and be done with it. This often meant that it might take an extra hour or two to sort who would take what.

Sure, I and the other adult leader could have just said "you take this" and "you carry that", but that went against the whole ethos of the trip. We were there as suggesters and as extra sets of hands. Needless to say, we often struggled with this. It's easy to say that you will step back and let the leaders lead, no matter how painful that process might be. At times, it truly was panful, because the solutions, at least to me, were so obvious. I realized, though, that was not entirely fair. I've had years of experience, both on the trail and in everyday life, where efficiency and effectiveness developed from many experiences where I was anything but. These boys were in a new world. They came to realize that saying they were leaders wasn't enough, they had to actually be leaders. At times, they would succeed. At times, they would fail. Usually, they would fail because they couldn't see a larger picture.

Each morning, we'd have to break camp and get to our next destination. Often, that next destination was anywhere from six to twelve miles away. That may not seem like much when walking city streets, but it takes on a different meaning when you are carrying fifty extra pounds on your back, have no set trails, and are at altitude over 9,000 feet. A term that I mentioned often was "hiking in the heat of the day". It was a very different experience hiking at six or seven in the morning than it was hiking at ten or eleven. The temperature could be as much as forty degrees higher (that's Fahrenheit, because we're American's, and we just use that system. I know in the rest of the world a forty degree difference means something significantly more ;) ). Still, that difference had a big impact on the progress of the rest of the day, and what energy reserves were left at the end of the hike to do things in the new base camp area. An early start meant a relatively quick hike, with plenty of energy and time to do program activities and relax a little bit. A late start often meant arriving at our camp late in the day, no time to do fun activities, and a scramble to get done what we needed to to get camp set up, dinner cooked, and to get some sleep before the next day. It tok a few times, but my comment of "hiking in the heat of the day" slowly started to sink in, and the group figured out what it needed to do to get a move on, so it wouldn't have to bake under the hot sun for too long each day.

I see many parallels in the work I do every day, in the way that I often lead testers and other engineers on my teams. It's so efficient to just tell people what to do, but real learning and expertise is rarely developed that way. Often, advising as to a course of action, and then stepping back and letting people do what they need to do is a much better option, but it is also filled with frustrations. It will rarely be done the way we want it to be done, or in the timely manner we would hope it would be done... at least, not at first. However, when people are held accountable for the execution of their plans, especially if they say they will do something a certain way, they will often meet up with those expectations over time.

It requires a willingness to walk a leader's walk, and at times, that willingness means being able to model correct principles, yet let people govern their own ways of actually accomplishing the goals they set. Yes, that includes dealing with the consequences of their actions (or inactions) at times. I frequently told the participants of our expeditions that the adults were ready an hour or two before they were, and as such, we just sat and waited, and of course we suffered through their delays and "hiking in the heat of the day", too. Over time, though, they came to internalize what they needed to do, and they also figured out how to cut their time from waking to walking down considerably. It's a shame we didn't have another ten days, as I think they would have been fantastic on a second leg. As it was, they were getting the hang of it by the time we ended the trek. Maybe they can carry it into the future and other activities they do. Time will tell :).

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

And Then it's "Go Time"

Two years ago, my Scout Troop put in a submission to trek at Philmont Scout Ranch in Cimarron, New Mexico. We'd submitted before, and due to the lottery system, we'd been unsuccessful in years past. However, in 2014, we got the message we'd been waiting to see for some time.

"Congratulations, your Crew has been selected to trek at Philmont Scout Ranch during Week 7 of the 2016 program year." With that, we all breathed a collective sigh of relief, cheered at our good fortune... and then came face to face with the enormity of what we'd just agreed to do.

For some, backpacking, cooking and camping in the backcountry for twelve days may be a regular occurrence. For many of our scouts, this was absolutely not the truth. We realized we would all have to up our games. We'd need to get new gear. We'd need to consider how much what we would bring would weigh. We'd need to get in shape... oh man, *I'd* need to get in shape!

For the better part of two years, we made sure we had the right group of people to attend. We had fits and starts. We had firm commitments from lots of scouts, only to have several of them fall by the wayside when the enormity of the trip (both in the effort and the cost) became apparent. At points, we feared we might have to cancel the whole thing, but somehow, at the moments of truth along the way (and there were several), we were able to pull it out of the fire and make the trek viable. We raised money by whatever means we could. We advertised a willingness to do jobs no one else would want to do (having to clear out a garage for an estate sale and clean up rodent damage to a large part of the storage will certainly live as one of the more memorable ones). We planned itineraries and booked flights, hired charter buses, made travel plans both before and after the on the mountain trek. We reviewed medical forms over and over. We went to get certified for Wilderness First Aid and CPR. Most of all, though, we strapped on back packs with all of our gear and we hiked. We hiked on flat paved trails. We climbed and descended mountains. We hiked on grass, in dirt, on forest floors littered with pine needles. We practiced cooking as a group. We dealt with the realities of one of our campers being genuinely gluten and dairy intolerant (as in full scale Celiac disease level, and realizing that nothing on the Philmont meal plan was edible for him). We pitched in and bought him a full compliment of gluten and dairy free trail foods so that he could participate with the rest of us.

Shortly, all of the planning, training, dieting, working out, learning, certifying, proofing, and other stuff that has consumed our lives for what feels like forever and no time at all will be set in motion. We will board a plane. We will fly to Albuquerque. We will be met by a shuttle service. We will travel around the small towns in and around the New Mexico Rocky Mountains until our check in time. We will then hit the trail, scale summits, evade bears, explore mines, climb to the top of Mt. Baldy, cover close to seventy miles, perform service and area improvements, and overall see how well we actually prepared for this adventure of ours.

In my day to day life as a tester, this all reminds me of the countless stories, iterations, releases, and other milestones we have met over the years. At some point, you no longer have time to practice, to learn, or to model what you will do. The time comes that you just "must do". In short, it's "Go Time". You are either ready, or you are not. Your solutions work, or they do not. Your learning is sufficient, or it is not. The one difference is that, when I test, there's always another day, another chance to get it right. Out in the wild, if we do something bone-headed or we take on something ill-prepared, the consequences may not be as mild. Though I am not anticipating it, I have to realize that, during these trips, though the numbers are small, people get hurt or die out here. We can do a lot to mitigate those risks, but we can't eliminate them entirely. Now we just have to go out and do our best, and know that we have trained for this. I'm humbled, but I'm also excited.

For the next two and a half weeks, I will effectively be unplugged and off the grid. I'm looking forward to the opportunity to help provide a trek that I hope will be life changing for the participants, and yes, I'm hoping one of the life's changed, in a positive way, will be mine :). Happy trails to you, until we meet again!

Monday, June 13, 2016

The Testing Show Is YOUR Show

Edited: Date changed, see below.

TL;DNR: We have a new podcast at The Testing Show. We need show ideas, questions, your involvement! We are having a Tweetup using hashtag #TestingShowChat on Wednesday, June 22, 2016 from 11:00 a.m. - noon Eastern USA timezone. Join us!!!

And now on to more of the show... so to speak.

For the past several months, a fairly large percentage of my time has been spent on an endeavor that I enjoy. That endeavor has been producing and editing "The Testing Show". Put simply, the Testing Show is a podcast hosted and paid for by Qualitest Group. A few years ago, Matt Heusser and I partnered on a podcast hosted by Software Test Professionals called "This Week in Software Testing" (TWiST). It ran for two and a half years, we produced over 130 episodes, and at the time, we felt like we had said all we really wanted to say, or could say. We took a hiatus from podcast production that lasted longer than either of us thought it would.

Towards the end of 2015, Matt and I, along with Justin Rohrman and Perze Ababa, discussed the idea of creating another software testing podcast, reminiscent of the old TWiST, but updated and focusing on newer topics and changes that have happened in the testing word since we stopped producing TWiST. The net result of those efforts is The Testing Show.

Twice a month, we bring you news on an issue happening in the world of testing, or something we think is interesting going on in the broader world and how software testing effects the stories we talk about. In previous episodes, we've covered software systems that erroneously released felons, automated trucking, the challenges of accurate Super Bowl predictions, and software updates causing a satellite to fall out of orbit and burn up in earth's atmosphere... hey, who said testing wasn't fun :)?

We've had a great group of guests come and join us on the show to talk about topics related to their areas of expertise, ranging from Test Management (both process and people), being a Trusted Resource, Testing in Scrum, visits to QA or the Highway and the Reinventing Testers workshop, Automation & Tooling, and Measurement & Metrics.

At the end of each episode, I ask listeners to send us their feedback about the shows they have heard, what they would like to hear, and topics we could cover. It's in this aspect that I want to reach out to our listeners, both current and potential, and see if we can do more.

In our minds, we discuss topics that we think would be interesting to our listeners. Comments on Twitter and other social media sites have been positive, and we thank you all for that. We'd like to see if we can do better, both in the way of helping make a show that you would love to listen to, and also make a show that you would love to share.

As producer of the show, I do my best to make each fortnightly episode the best quality it can be. We often talk for an hour plus, but we edit the show to be roughly thirty minutes, give or take a few. We create show notes with complete transcripts of all the conversation presented, as well as references to what we cover and jumping off points where our listeners can learn more. As we do this, we realize that, amongst ourselves and each other, that we have a limited view as to what's most important to you, our listeners. We can make guesses, but we don't know everything you know, we haven't walked everywhere you have walked, and you have ideas and questions we may never think to ask. We'd like to engage with you directly, and get some opportunities to know what you would like to hear on the show, who you would like to hear from... and if one of the people you would like to hear from happens to be "you", hey, we can talk :).

On Wednesday, June 22, 2016 from 11:00 a.m. - noon Eastern, the cast of The Testing Show will be hosting a live event on Twitter. We will answer questions about the show, discuss things we've talked about in previous shows, but more to the point, we want to know things that you would like to hear us discuss in future podcasts. If that interests you, and you'd like to give us some feedback on what we are talking about, or what we could be talking about, we hope you'll join us. Use the hashtag #TestingShowChat to play along with us. If you can't participate at that time, you can always send email to us at thetestingshow@qualitestgroup.com, and we will do follow up in future shows.

Another way that you can help us get the word out is to leave reviews of The Testing Show on iTunes. If you like what you hear, leave us a review. More reviews means better placement in search engines, and more chances of people discovering the show. Share the show with your friends and encourage them to listen as well. We aim to make The Testing Show the best podcast we possibly can, but ultimately, the show belongs to you, our listeners, and our success resides with you. We'd love if you would join us, and help us make your show the best we can make it.

Thursday, May 19, 2016

Aedificamus: Everything Works, Until it Doesn't

I started this little all consuming project on August 14, 2015. At the time, I weighed 263 pounds (yes, posts earlier stated I weighed 260, but the scale I was using at first and the one I use now have a three pound discrepancy. To be consistent, since I'm using the Health-O-Meter LoseIt Scale, I adjusted to keep the numbers consistent). I embarked on an approach that I tinkered with over several months, and for quite some time, felt I had come up with a winning formula. My results certainly seemed to confirm that line of thinking. I did offer a caveat that, what works at one point may stop working or be less effective later on.

That's the reality I'm dealing with today.

First, let's look at the numbers:

My LoseIt graph of bodyweight, current as of May 19, 2016.


Yep, things have been interesting the past few months. In some ways, I feel like I am more active than ever. I'm focused on the food I prepare. I'm getting ready for what will likely be a challenging but fun two week long backpacking trip. I should have had this in the bag a long time ago, and yet...

Not only has progress slowed, at certain points it has stopped completely and reversed. Ups and downs and fluctuations day to day are to be expected, but this is different. Using a moving average, when all is said and done, I have been virtually parked at around 193 for three months. I got down to 190 for a day, and then later I reached 188 for a few days, but then rocketed back to around 194. I blamed it on a weekend at a scouting activity where my prime responsibility was cooking (and yes, cooking the fun stuff :) ). I also bring my culinary skills to a variety of pirate festivals (in addition to being a living history docent, I also act with the Quartermaster crew as galley cook, which, let's face it, is fun). Still, I've been keeping track of my calories, I've been diligent about syncing my Fitbit with my apps, and sure, there are some days I don't make target, but the high majority of the time, I do. 

So what gives?

Data is interesting. If you focus on just one thing, it can tell you something specific, but it may not tell you the whole story. The image above deals with weight by itself. The following image, which is a graph of my Body Mass Index (BMI) adds another dimension:

My LoseIt graph of BMI, current as of May 19, 2016


I'll be the first to tell you that BMI is a flawed measure. No two people are exactly alike, and I have some unique morphology that messes with the very premise of BMI. I have a classic Viking build. I often joke that my scant Danish heritage is really only represented in my name, as I am basically 1/8 Danish, with a full half of my heritage Italian and Spanish/Mexican, and the rest a mixture in various parts of English, Irish and Welsh. For those who are fans of history, you probably already jumped to the point where you would say "yeah, but there's lots of Danish/Scandinavian in that mix of English, Irish and Welsh... that's who the Saxon's were", and you'd be right. Long story short, classic Viking morphology defines my body. I have broad shoulders. I have a long torso. I have a long neck. Most important, I have stubby legs. I'm 6 feet, 2 inches, but I have a 31" inseam. A typical height for that inseam length is about 5 feet 10 inches, so four inches of my cross section are coming out of my torso. There' a lot more mass in the torso than in the legs, all things considered. My point being, just getting to a green zone BMI may or may not be a proper target, but since hospitals and the insurance industry use it, and pretty heavily, for making health related decisions (and assigning risk factors), I abide by it. I hit 24.9 BMI (the highest I can be and still be in the green zone) on February 27, 2016. The green line in the graph represents that 24.9 goal. 

Do you notice anything interesting? Yes, there are dips, even some significant ones, and there are setbacks (yep, a significant pair of them as you can see), but overall, when averaged out, I'm holding altitude at that 24.9 spot. This is, I assure you, not intentional. I really want to hit that 185 target I made for myself, but my body has been fighting me tooth and nail... or has it?

What's different between now and what I was doing in the Autumn of 2015 and the Winter of 2016? 

One interesting variable change is the addition of the FitBit into the equation. It's a really neat tool in that it tells me my caloric burn for each day, and it tracks steps for me. However, I have noticed something interesting. Back when I was using my phone as my pedometer, it seemed to take me an hour and forty minutes of cumulative walking to get to 10,000 steps. I stopped keeping track time wise or distance wise, but I've had the nagging suspicion that my FitBit may be a little too generous with my step count. It certainly seems I hit that value much sooner. It's also possible that my phone registers the distance differently, and since I started wearing the FitBit, I don't carry my phone with me everywhere all the time, so I can't compare the two values in a meaningful way. 

Additionally, I've been training for a two week backpacking trek, with conditioning hikes covering five to seven miles, with elevation climbs of about 1,000 feet up and down, with a 45 pound backpack. Seems I should be losing weight left and right with that kind of regimen, except... now that I'm doing these long hikes, I have had mornings where my typical physical training sessions, be they yoga or strength training stuff, have diminished. Also, I've been producing a podcast that takes up a fair amount of editing time, so a lot of my previous exercise focus has been shifted. In short, while I want to say I'm doing the same thing I was doing before, the truth is, I'm not. I've changed the load, both physically and cognitively. I may not be getting all of the exercise and calorie burn I think I am getting.

Yeah, but my food regimen has been rock solid, right? 

Well... I can go back and see a whole bunch of things that, if I were to be 100% objective, I thumb ruled and used experience to provide numbers. Did I include the pat of butter that went in to lubricate the pan? How about the salt used in the blanching process? Did I really know the make-up of that rice noodle I used? When I eat out at a Mexican place and get ceviche, do I really know the caloric breakdown of what I have eaten? Have I truly been making my own meals, or have I slowly worked in social lunches at the office to help balance things? Sure, I hit my fruits and vegetable quota religiously, and have for months, but there's a lot in the mix I am probably not accounting for, or I am willfully ignoring. In short, I may be eating more than I am giving myself credit for. Mix that with a changed workout regimen, a possibly overgenerous accounting of my thermal output, and a very real underreporting of my caloric intake, and I think it's very possible that my lack of progress is my own darn fault. 

Additionally, it's also entirely possible that I've biased myself by having hit the BMI target. It's not the weight goal, but it's put me in the green zone for healthy weight, and perhaps my sub-conscious is saying "OK, body, that's enough, we need to overrule this darn fool, by whatever means necessary."

There's one final detail I think may be important, and that's time. Time using a caloric budget. Time planning workouts. Time going out of my way to train. Time avoiding certain foods or food combinations. Time researching alternatives to help me lower sodium or excess sugar. All of this adds up, and results in "Weight Loss Fatigue". Yep, I'll admit it, some days, I just want to say "the hell with all of this!" It manifests itself some times in my going days without weighing myself. I'd been an advocate of daily weighing and found the daily fluctuations to be a wonderful source of daily angst, so I cut them back to once a week. Problem is with once a week, I'm not getting that daily feedback or getting the motivation to course correct. Holding ground isn't so bad, but it also makes me a little complacent. Having a spike in weight makes me less want to weigh daily. Therefore, even though the daily weigh-in irritates me, it really does give me daily input that I can act on, so I'm going back to it, or as daily as I can realistically do.

It's easy to lament a lack of progress and think "oh, things have just gotten so much harder, I'm doing the same thing and not getting results any longer". It's possible that could be the case; the body is highly adaptable, and I could be developing muscle from all my exertions, but with a reduced calorie load, I'm highly dubious. No, I think the real facts are that I'm not doing the same thing. I've drifted off my course and routine. I'm not as diligent as I was. I'm using the tools to provide a false sense of accomplishment. I'm getting a dose of dopamine each time I meet a goal and see the bar and icons turn green. That in and of itself is its own reward, and it distracts from my ultimate goal. To that effect, it's back to some of my tried and true methods. An hour and forty minutes daily walking time, measured some other way than just letting my FitBit tell me. It's time to get back into those FitStar workouts that I've let become less frequent. It's time to say "no, thank you" to team lunches, or at least go less frequently, and take my cooking and food preparation back. Mostly, I need to really take the time to think about what I ingest (and more importantly, digest), and realize that there may be lots of hidden stuff I'm not accounting for, but I better figure out how.

So there it is, nine months in, almost seventy pounds down, but those last eight pounds are proving to be frustratingly difficult to say goodbye to. Whatever the reason, what I relied on before isn't working the same way, so it's time to pivot. Check back in a couple of months and we'll see how well I do with that ;).



Friday, April 8, 2016

Webinar: Test Estimation Hacks with Matt Heusser

As many of you know I don't do direct advertising on TESTHEAD. At times, though, I do give plugs for things my friends are doing or things I think would be noteworthy and interesting. This would be one of those plugs :).


The folks at QASymphony are having Matt Heusser present a webinar on Test Estimation Hacks, April 21, 2016 from 2:00 p.m. - 3:00 p.m. Eastern time.

First off, this is not a sales presentation. Matt is doing this based on concepts and practical approaches that are tool agnostic. You’ll leave with a half-dozen ways to think about estimating, from “can you finish it by lunch?” to full blown new product development and planning. The techniques themselves can be applied by anyone, and Matt will explore why coming up with time estimates in testing can be so counter intuitive — and what to do about it. It's not an endorsement of QASymphony or a plug for them, either. They are hosting the webinar.

Matt is a thorough presenter, he's engaging, and he does his homework. Anyone who has listened to the "TWiST" podcast or "The Testing Show" knows what I'm talking about.

In short, if you can attend, do so. If you can tell others about it, do that, too :).

Thursday, April 7, 2016

Automation Challenges: Live from #STPCON

One of the things Paul Grizzaffi said as a lead in to his Automation Challenges Roundtable was "this will *NOT* be covering how to use Selenium!" With that, I was sold for where to spend my last session.

What's nice about this session is that it's not a presentation per se, it's a group hug, in the best and nicest way I can say that. Since this is a open mic flow, we'll take it as a question at a time approach:

How Do I Communicate the Value of Our Automation?

I'm fortunate in that I work for a company that has a robust and long serving automation platform. IT's not very modern, and its not always pretty, but it works well and has for a long time. Most of the tests pass most of the time, and truth be told, there have been a few times where I wondered if our tests were really valuable... until we actually caught regressions that saved our butts. To that end, having the automation in place was tremendously valuable, so I'm not sure what I would suggest beyond making sure that you report your results regularly, highlight where the tests helped with finding issues, and encouraging continued work on automating new features as they come.

Different Personalities in the Automation Pipeline

It helps to have people with different experiences and viewpoints, but that opens up some additional challenges. People develop in unique ways, and different people work in ways that may or may not be optimal for others. Short of isolating everyone and having them work alone (i.e. what's the point?), encourage each member to communicate how they like to work. We may not be able to resolve everything, but helping each other understand our best approaches will certainly make it smoother.

Requirements, BDD and Code in One

The desire to have business requirements, BDD language and code in one place is doable, but it's tricky. Test Rail is an approach that can front end the business language, yet still minimize the duplication. Bigger question is "how can we get the group to work together with a minimum of duplication?" The unfortunate truth is that the more specific we make something, the less flexible it becomes. Seems a good potential product :).

Helping Teams Not Go Rogue

Everyone has their favorite framework or methodology. What happens when there are several tools in use and different technological requirements? One suggestion was that everyone knew how to run the tests, regardless of the tools required. Spreading the knowledge helps encourage looking for synergies. We may not always be able to pick a unifier, but over time, learning from each group can help either draw projects together or at least determine which areas must be separate for technical reasons.

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...and with that, we bid adieu to STP-CON. Thank you all for a terrific week, and thanks for bringing the conference to me this time :).