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.highlight pre { background-color: #efecec; border-color: var(--theme-secondary-background-color); border-radius: 10px; } The firehose of data is turned on In the beginning, the Internet was a small, cozy place. Most people weren’t online, and most businesses weren’t really online. The old Internet was for nerds willing to suffer through the less-than-straightforward technical setup, before the soul-scraping screech of a 28K baud modem resulted in a successful connection to the interwebs. Finally - we could now slowly download, bar by bar, images of Cindy Margolis. It was an innocent time, with tacky page view counters, guestbooks, “dancing baby” animated gifs, scrolling marquees, and just terrible background color choices. Back then we discovered things on the Web through an array of search engines - AltaVista, Excite, Lycos, Yahoo… None of them particularly stood out on their own. Yahoo was a more thorough, actual directory of websites maintained by fellow life...
10 months ago

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A Lannister Always Pays His Technical Debts

A tale of two rewrites Jamie Zawinski is kind of a tech legend. He came up with the name “Mozilla”, invented that whole thing where you can send HTML in emails, and more. In his harrowing work diary of how Mosaic/Netscape came to be, Jamie described the burnout rodeo that was the Mosaic development (the top disclaimer has its own history — ignore it): I slept at work again last night; two and a half hours curled up in a quilt underneath my desk, from 11am to 1:30pm or so. That was when I woke up with a start, realizing that I was late for a meeting we were scheduled to have to argue about colormaps and dithering, and how we should deal with all the nefarious 8-bit color management issues. But it was no big deal, we just had the meeting later. It’s hard for someone to hold it against you when you miss a meeting because you’ve been at work so long that you’ve passed out from exhaustion. Netscape’s wild ride is well-depicted in the dramatized Discovery mini-series Valley of the Boom, and the company eventually collapsed with the death march rewrite of what seemed to be just seriously unmaintainable code. It was the subject of one of the more famous articles by ex-Microsoft engineer and then entrepreneur Joel Spolsky - Things You Should Never Do. While the infamous Netscape codebase is long gone, the people that it enriched are still shaping the world to this day. There have been big, successful rewrites. Twitter moved away from Ruby-on-Rails to JVM over a decade ago but the first, year-long full rewrite effort completely failed. Following architecture by fiat from the top, the engineering team said nothing, speaking out only days before the launch. The whole thing would crash out of the gate, they claimed, so Twitter had to go back to the drawing board and rewrite again. I'd love to hear from you. What didn’t work for Netscape worked for Twitter. Why? Netscape had major heat coming from ruthless Microsoft competition, very little time for major moves, and a team aleady exhausted from “office heroics”. Twitter, however, is a unique product that is incredibly hard to dislodge, even with the almost purposefully incompetent and reckless management. It’s hard to abandon your social media account after accumulating algorithmic reputation and followers for years, and yet one can switch browsers faster than they can switch socks. Companies often do not survive this kind of adventure without having an almost unfair moat. Those that do survive, they probably caught some battle scars. Friendly Fire: Notify in Slack directly Skip reviewers who are not available File pattern matching Individual code review reminders No access to your codebase needed The road to hell is paved with TODO comments All of this is to say that you should probably never let your system rot so badly until a code rewrite is even discussed. It never just happens. Your code doesn’t just become unmaintainable overnight. It gets there by the constant cutting of corners, hard-coding things, and crop-dusting your work with long-forgotten //FIXME comments. Fix who? We used to call it technical debt - a term that is now being frowned upon. The concept of “technical debt” got popular around the time when we were getting obsessed with “proh-cess” and Agile, as we got tired of death march projects, arbitrary deadlines, and general lack of structure and visibility into our work. Every software project felt like a tour — you came up for air and then went back into the 💩 for months. Agile meant that the stakeholders could be present in our planning meetings. We had to explain to them - somehow - that it took time to upgrade the web framework from v1 to v5 because no one has been using v1 for years, and in general, it slowed everyone down. Since we didn’t know how to explain this to a non-coder, someone came up with the condescending “technical debt” — “those spreadsheet monkeys wouldn’t understand what we do here!” While “technical debt” has most likely run its course as a manipulative verbal device, it is absolutely the right term to use amongst ourselves to reason about risks and to properly triage them. The three type of technical debt The word “debt” has negative connotations for sure, but just like with actual monetary debt, it’s never great but not always horrible. To mutilate the famous saying - you have to spend code to make code. I would categorize technical debt into three types — Aesthetic, Deferrable, and Toxic. A mark of a good engineer is knowing when to create technical debt, what kind of debt, and when to repay it. Aesthetic debt This is the kind of stuff that triggers your OCD but does not really affect your users or your velocity in any way. Maybe the imports are not sorted the way you want, and maybe there is a naming convention that is grinding your gears. It’s something that can be addressed with relatively low effort when you are good and ready, in many cases with proper automated code analysis and tools. Deferrable debt Deferrable debt is what should be refactored at some point, but it’s fairly contained and will not be a problem in the immediate future. The kind of debt that you need to minimize by methodically striking it off your list, and as long as it seeps through into your sprint work, you can probably avoid a scenario where it all gets out of control. Sometimes this sort of thing is really contained - a lone hacky file, written in the Mesozoic Era by a sleep-deprived Jamie Zawinski because someone was breathing down his neck. No one really understands what the code does, but it’s been humming along for the last 7 years, so why take your chances by waking the sleeping dragons? Slap the Safety Pig on it, claim a victory, and go shake down a vending machine. Toxic debt This is the kind of debt that needs to be addressed before it’s too late. How do you identify “toxic” debt? It’s that thing that you did half-way and now it’s become a workaround magnet. “We have to do it like this now until we fix it - someday”. The workarounds then become the foundation of new features, creating new and exciting debugging side quests. The future work required grows bigger with every new feature and a line of code. This is the toxic debt. Lack of tests is toxic debt Not having automated tests, or insufficient testing of critical paths, is tech debt in its own right. The more untested code you are adding, the more miserable your life is going to get over time. Tests are important to fight the debt itself. It’s much easier to take a sledgehammer to your codebase when a solid integration test suite’s got your back. We don’t like it, it’s upfront work that slows us down, but at some point after your Minimal Viable Prototype starts running away from you, you need to switch into Test Mode and tie it all down — before things get really nasty. Lack of documentation is toxic debt I am not talking about a War & Peace sized manual or detailed and severely out of date architecture diagrams in your Google Docs. Just a a set of critical READMEs and runbooks on how to start the system locally and perform basic tasks. What variables and secrets do I need? What else do I need installed? If there is a bug report, how do I configure my local environment to reproduce it, and so on. The time taken to reverse-engineer a system every time has an actual dollar value attached to it, plus the opportunity cost of not doing useful work. Put. It. In. A. Card. I have been guilty of this myself. I love TODOs. They are easy to add without breaking the flow, and they are configured in my IDE to be bright and loud. It’s a TODO — I will do it someday. During the Annual TODO Week, obviously. Let’s be frank — marking items as “TODO” is saying to yourself that you should really do this thing, but probably never will. This is relevant because TODO items can represent any level of technical debt described above, and so you should really make these actual stories on your Kanban/Agile boards. Mark technical debt as such You should be able to easily scan your “debt stories” and figure out which ones have payment due. This can be either a tag in your issue-tracking system or a column in your Kanban-style board like Trello. An approach like this will let you gauge better the ratio of new feature stories vs the growing technical debt. Your debt column will never be empty — that goal is as futile as Zero Inbox, but it should never grow out of control either. // TODO: conclusion

a year ago 39 votes
Code Lab - Job queues in Postgres

Introduction Friendly Fire needs to periodically execute scheduled jobs - to remind Slack users to review GitHub pull requests. Instead of bolting on a new system just for this, I decided to leverage Postgres instead. The must-have requirement was the ability to schedule a job to run in the future, with workers polling for “ripe” jobs, executing them and retrying on failure, with exponential backoff. With SKIP LOCKED, Postgres has the needed functionality, allowing a single worker to atomically pull a job from the job queue without another worker pulling the same one. This project is a demo of this system, slightly simplified. This example, available on GitHub is a playground for the following: How to set up a base Quart web app with Postgres using Poetry How to process a queue of immediate and delayed jobs using only the database How to retry failed jobs with exponential backoff How to use custom decorators to ensure atomic HTTP requests (success - commit, failure - rollback) How to use Pydantic for stricter Python models How to use asyncpg and asynchronously query Postgres with connection pooling How to test asyncio code using pytest and unittest.IsolatedAsyncioTestCase How to manipulate the clock in tests using freezegun How to use mypy, flake8, isort, and black to format and lint the code How to use Make to simplify local commands ALTER MODE SKIP COMPLEXITY Postgres introduced SKIP LOCKED years ago, but recently there was a noticeable uptick in the interest around this feature. In particular regarding its obvious use for simpler queuing systems, allowing us to bypass libraries or maintenance-hungry third-party messaging systems. Why now? It’s hard to say, but my guess is that the tech sector is adjusting to the leaner times, looking for more efficient and cheaper ways of achieving the same goals at common-scale but with fewer resources. Or shall we say - reasonable resources. What’s Quart? Quart is the asynchronous version of Flask. If you know about the g - the global request context - you will be right at home. Multiple quality frameworks have entered Python-scape in recent years - FastAPI, Sanic, Falcon, Litestar. There is also Bottle and Carafe. Apparently naming Python frameworks after liquid containers is now a running joke. Seeing that both Flask and Quart are now part of the Pallets project, Quart has been curiously devoid of hype. These two are in the process of being merged and at some point will become one framework - classic synchronous Flask and asynchronous Quart in one. How it works Writing about SKIP LOCKED is going to be redundant as this has been covered plenty elsewhere. For example, in this article. Even more in-depth are these slides from 2016 PGCON. The central query looks like this: DELETE FROM job WHERE id = ( SELECT id FROM job WHERE ripe_at IS NULL OR [current_time_argument] >= ripe_at FOR UPDATE SKIP LOCKED LIMIT 1 ) RETURNING *, id::text Each worker is added as a background task, periodically querying the database for “ripe” jobs (the ones ready to execute), and then runs the code for that specific job type. A job that does not have the “ripe” time set will be executed whenever a worker is available. A job that fails will be retried with exponential backoff, up to Job.max_retries times: next_retry_minutes = self.base_retry_minutes * pow(self.tries, 2) Creating a job is simple: job: Job = Job( job_type=JobType.MY_JOB_TYPE, arguments={"user_id": user_id}, ).runs_in(hours=1) await jobq.service.job_db.save(job) SKIP LOCKED and DELETE ... SELECT FOR UPDATE tango together to make sure that no worker gets the same job at the same time. To keep things interesting, at the Postgres level we have an MD5-based auto-generated column to make sure that no job of the same type and with the same arguments gets queued up more than once. This project also demonstrates the usage of custom DB transaction decorators in order to have a cleaner transaction notation: @write_transaction @api.put("/user") async def add_user(): # DB write logic @read_transaction @api.get("/user") async def get_user(): # DB read logic A request (or a function) annotated with one of these decorators will be in an atomic transaction until it exits, and rolled back if it fails. At shutdown, the “stop” flag in each worker is set, and the server waits until all the workers complete their sleep cycles, peacing out gracefully. async def stop(self): for worker in self.workers: worker.request_stop() while not all([w.stopped for w in self.workers]): logger.info("Waiting for all workers to stop...") await asyncio.sleep(1) logger.info("All workers have stopped") Testing The test suite leverages unittest.IsolatedAsyncioTestCase (Python 3.8 and up) to grant us access to asyncSetUp() - this way we can call await in our test setup functions: async def asyncSetUp(self) -> None: self.app: Quart = create_app() self.ctx: quart.ctx.AppContext = self.app.app_context() await self.ctx.push() self.conn = await asyncpg.connect(...) db.connection_manager.set_connection(self.conn) self.transaction = self.conn.transaction() await self.transaction.start() async def asyncTearDown(self) -> None: await self.transaction.rollback() await self.conn.close() await self.ctx.pop() Note that we set up the database only once for our test class. At the end of each test, the connection is rolled back, returning the database to its pristine state for the next test. This is a speed trick to make sure we don’t have to run database setup code each single time. In this case it doesn’t really matter, but in a test suite large enough, this is going to add up. For delayed jobs, we simulate the future by freezing the clock at a specific time (relative to now): # jump to the FUTURE with freeze_time(now + datetime.timedelta(hours=2)): ripe_job = await jobq.service.job_db.get_one_ripe_job() assert ripe_job Improvements Batching - pulling more than one job at once would add major dragonforce to this system. This is not part of the example as to not overcomplicate it. You just need to be careful and return the failed jobs back in the queue while deleting the completed ones. With enough workers, a system like this could really be capable of handling serious common-scale workloads. Server exit - there are less than trivial ways of interrupting worker sleep cycles. This could improve the experience of running the service locally. In its current form, you have to wait a few seconds until all worker loops get out of sleep() and read the STOP flag. Renegade Otter is the developer of Friendly Fire - Smarter pull request assignment for GitHub: Connect GitHub users to Slack and notify directly Skip reviewers who are not available File pattern matching Individual code review reminders No access to your codebase needed

a year ago 33 votes
Your database skills are not ‘good to have’

A MySQL war story It’s 2006, and the New York Magazine digital team set out to create a new search experience for its Fashion Week portal. It was one of those projects where technical feasibility was not even discussed with the tech team - a common occurrence back then. Agile was still new, let alone in publishing. It was just a vision, a real friggin’ moonshot, and 10 to 12 weeks to develop the wireframed version of the product. There would be almost no time left for proper QA. Fashion Week does not start slowly but rather goes from zero to sixty in a blink. The vision? Thousands of near-real-time fashion show images, each one with its sub-items categorized: “2006”, “bag”, “red”, “ leather”, and so on. A user will land on the search page and have the ability to “drill down” and narrow the results based on those properties. To make things much harder, all of these properties would come with exact counts. The workflow was going to be intense. Photographers will courier their digital cartridges from downtown NYC to our offices on Madison Avenue, where the images will be processed, tagged by interns, and then indexed every hour by our Perl script, reading the tags from the embedded EXIF information. Failure to build the search product on our side would have collapsed the entire ecosystem already in place, primed and ready to rumble. “Oh! Just use the facets in Solr, dude”. Yeah, not so fast - dude. In 2006 that kind of technology didn’t even exist yet. I sat through multiple enterprise search engine demos with our CTO, and none of the products (which cost a LOT of money) could do a deep faceted search. We already had an Autonomy license and my first try proved that… it just couldn’t do it. It was supposed to be able to, but the counts were all wrong. Endeca (now owned by Oracle), came out of stealth when the design part of the project was already underway. Too new, too raw, too risky. The idea was just a little too ambitious for its time, especially for a tiny team in a non-tech company. So here we were, a team of three, myself and two consultants, writing Perl for the indexing script, query-parsing logic, and modeling the data - in MySQL 4. It was one of those projects where one single insurmountable technical risk would have sunk the whole thing. I will cut the story short and spare you the excitement. We did it, and then we went out to celebrate at a karaoke bar (where I got my very first work-stress-related severe hangover) 🤮 For someone who was in charge of the SQL model and queries, it was days and days of tuning those, timing every query and studying the EXPLAIN output to see what else I could do to squeeze another 50ms out of the database. There were no free nights or weekends. In the end, it was a combination of trial and error, digging deep into MySQL server settings, and crafting GROUP BY queries that would make you nauseous. The MySQL query analyzer was fidgety back then, and sometimes re-arranging the fields in the SELECT clause could change a query’s performance. Imagine if SELECT field1, field2 FROM my_table was faster than SELECT field2, field1 FROM my_table. Why would it do that? I have no idea to this day, and I don’t even want to know. Unfortunately, I lost examples of this work, but the Way Back Machine has proof of our final product. The point here is - if you really know your database, you can do pretty crazy things with it, and with the modern generation of storage technologies and beefier hardware, you don’t even need to push the limits - it should easily handle what I refer to as “common-scale”. Renegade Otter is the developer of Friendly Fire - Smarter pull request assignment for GitHub: Connect GitHub users to Slack and notify directly Skip reviewers who are not available File pattern matching Individual code review reminders No access to your codebase needed The fading art of SQL In the past few years I have been noticing an unsettling trend - software engineers are eager to use exotic “planet-scale” databases for pretty rudimentary problems, while at the same time not having a good grasp of the very powerful relational database engine they are likely already using, let alone understanding the technology’s more advanced and useful capabilities. The SQL layer is buried so deep beneath libraries and too clever by a half ORMs that it all just becomes high-level code. Why is it slow? No idea - let's add Cassandra to it! Modern hardware certainly allows us to go way up from the CPU into the higher abstraction layers, while it wasn’t that uncommon in the past to convert certain functions to assembly code in order to squeeze every bit of performance out of the processor. Now compute and storage is cheaper - it’s true - but abusing this abundance has trained us laziness and complacency. Suddenly, that Cloud bill is a wee too high, and heavens knows how much energy the world is burning by just running billions of these inefficient ORM queries every second against mammoth database instances. The morning of my first job interview in 2004, I was on a subway train memorizing the nine levels of database normalization. Or is it five levels? I don’t remember, and It doesn’t even matter - no one will ever ask you this now in a software engineer interview. Just skimming through the table of contents of your database of choice, say the now freshly in vogue Postgres, you will find an absolute treasure trove of features fit to handle everything but the most gruesome planet-scale computer science problems. Petabyte-sized Postgres boxes, replicated, are effortlessly running now as you are reading this. The trick is to not expect your database or your ORM to read your mind. Speaking of… ORMs are the frenemy I was a new hire at an e-commerce outfit once, and right off the bat I was thrown into fixing serious performance issues with the company’s product catalog pages. Just a straight-forward, paginated grid of product images. How hard could it be? Believe it or not - it be. The pages took over 10 seconds to load, sometimes longer, the database was struggling, and the solution was to “just cache it”. One last datapoint - this was not a high-traffic site. The pages were dead-slow even if there was no traffic at all. That’s a rotten sign that something is seriously off. After looking a bit closer, I realized that I hit the motherlode - all top three major database and coding mistakes in one. ❌ Mistake #1: There is no index The column that was hit in every single mission-critical query had no index. None. After adding the much-needed index in production, you could practically hear MySQL exhaling in relief. Still, the performance was not quite there yet, so I had to dig deeper, now in the code. ❌ Mistake #2: Assuming each ORM call is free Activating the query logs locally and reloading a product listing page, I see… 200, 300, 500 queries fired off just to load one single page. What the shit? Turns out, this was the result of a classic ORM abuse of going through every record in a loop, to the effect of: for product_id in product_ids: product = amazing_orm.products.get(id=product_id) products.append(product) The high number of queries was also due the fact that some of this logic was nested. The obvious solution is to keep the number of queries in each request to a minimum, leveraging SQL to join and combine the data into one single blob. This is what relational databases do - it’s in the name. Each separate query needs to travel to the database, get parsed, transformed, analyzed, planned, executed, and then travel back to the caller. It is one of the most expensive operations you can do, and ORMs will happily do the worst possible thing for you in terms of performance. One wonders what those algorithm and data structure interview questions are good for, considering you are more likely to run into a sluggish database call than a B-tree implementation (common structure used for database indexes). ❌ Mistake #3: Pulling in the world To make matters worse, the amount of data here was relatively small, but there were dozens and dozens of columns. What do ORMs usually do by default in order to make your life “easier”? They send the whole thing, all the columns, clogging your network pipes with the data that you don’t even need. It is a form of toxic technical debt, where the speed of development will eventually start eating into performance. I spent hours within the same project hacking the dark corners of the Dango admin, overriding default ORM queries to be less “eager”. This led to a much better office-facing experience. Performance IS a feature Serious, mission-critical systems have been running on classic and boring relational databases for decades, serving thousands of requests per second. These systems have become more advanced, more capable, and more relevant. They are wonders of computer science, one can claim. You would think that an ancient database like Postgres (in development since 1982) is in some kind of legacy maintenance mode at this point, but the opposite is true. In fact, the work has been only accelerating, with the scale and features becoming pretty impressive. What took multiple queries just a few years ago now takes a single one. Why is this significant? It has been known for a long time, as discovered by Amazon, that every additional 100ms of a user waiting for a page to load loses a business money. We also know now that from a user’s perspective, the maximum target response time for a web page is around 100 milliseconds: A delay of less than 100 milliseconds feels instant to a user, but a delay between 100 and 300 milliseconds is perceptible. A delay between 300 and 1,000 milliseconds makes the user feel like a machine is working, but if the delay is above 1,000 milliseconds, your user will likely start to mentally context-switch. The “just add more CPU and RAM if it’s slow” approach may have worked for a while, but many are finding out the hard way that this kind of laziness is not sustainable in a frugal business environment where costs matter. Database anti-patterns Knowing what not to do is as important as knowing what to do. Some of the below mistakes are all too common: ❌ Anti-pattern #1. Using exotic databases for the wrong reasons Technologies like DynamoDB are designed to handle scale at which Postgres and MySQL begin to fail. This is achieved by denormalizing, duplicating the data aggressively, where the database is not doing much real-time data manipulation or joining. Your data is now modeled after how it is queried, not after how it is related. Regular relational concepts disintegrate at this insane level of scale. Needless to say, if you are resorting to this kind of storage for “common-scale” problems, you are already solving problems you don’t have. ❌ Anti-pattern #2. Caching things unnecessarily Caching is a necessary evil - but it’s not always necessary. There is an entire class of bugs and on-call issues that stem from stale cached data. Read-only database replicas are a classic architecture pattern that is still very much not outdated, and it will buy you insane levels of performance before you have to worry about anything. It should not be a surprise that mature relational databases already have query caching in place - it just has to be tuned for your specific needs. Cache invalidation is hard. It adds more complexity and states of uncertainty to your system. It makes debugging more difficult. I received more emails from content teams than I care for throughout my career that wondered “why is the data not there, I updated it 30 minutes ago?!” Caching should not act as a bandaid for bad architecture and non-performant code. ❌ Anti-pattern #3. Storing everything and a kitchen sink As much punishment as an industry-standard database can take, it’s probably not a good idea to not care at all about what’s going into it, treating it like a data landfill of sorts. Management, querying, backups, migrations - all becomes painful once the DB grows substantially. Even if that is of no concern as you are using a managed cloud DB - the costs should be. An RDBMS is a sophisticated piece of technology, and storing data in it is expensive. Figure out common-scale first It is fairly easy to make a beefy Postgres or a MySQL database grind to a halt if you expect it to do magic without any extra work. “It’s not web-scale, boss. Our 2 million records seem to be too much of a lift. We need DynamoDB, Kafka, and event sourcing!” A relational database is not some antiquated technology that only us tech fossils choose to be experts in, a thing that can be waved off like an annoying insect. “Here we React and GraphQL all the things, old man”. In legal speak, a modern RDBMS is innocent until proven guilty, and the burden of proof should be extremely high - and almost entirely on you. Finally, if I have to figure out “why it’s slow”, my approximate runbook is: Compile a list of unique queries, from logging, slow query log, etc. Look at the most frequent queries first Use EXPLAIN to check slow query plans for index usage Select only the data that needs to travel across the wire If an ORM is doing something silly without a workaround, pop the hood and get dirty with the raw SQL plumbing Most importantly, study your database (and SQL). Learn it, love it, use it, abuse it. Spending a couple of days just leafing through that Postgres manual to see what it can do will probably make you a better engineer than spending more time on the next flavor-of-the-month React hotness. Again. Related posts I am not your Cloud person Renegade Otter is the developer of Friendly Fire - Smarter pull request assignment for GitHub: Connect GitHub users to Slack and notify directly Skip reviewers who are not available File pattern matching Individual code review reminders No access to your codebase needed

a year ago 38 votes
Death by a thousand microservices

The Church of Complexity There is a pretty well-known sketch in which an engineer is explaining to the project manager how an overly complicated maze of microservices works in order to get a user’s birthday - and fails to do so anyway. The scene accurately describes the absurdity of the state of the current tech culture. We laugh, and yet bringing this up in a serious conversation is tantamount to professional heresy, rendering you borderline un-hirable. How did we get here? How did our aim become not addressing the task at hand but instead setting a pile of cash on fire by solving problems we don’t have? Trigger warning: Some people understandably got salty when I name-checked JavaScript and NodeJS as a source of the problem, but my point really was more about the dangers of hermetically sealed software ecosystems that seem hell-bent on re-learning the lessons that we just had finished learning. We ran into the complexity wall before and reset - otherwise we'd still be using CORBA and SOAP. These air-tight developer bubbles are a wrecking ball on the entire industry, and it takes about a full decade to swing. The perfect storm There are a few events in recent history that may have contributed to the current state of things. First, a whole army of developers writing JavaScript for the browser started self-identifying as “full-stack”, diving into server development and asynchronous code. JavaScript is JavaScript, right? What difference does it make what you create using it - user interfaces, servers, games, or embedded systems. Right? Node was still kind of a learning project of one person, and the early JavaScript was a deeply problematic choice for server development. Pointing this out to still green server-side developers usually resulted in a lot of huffing and puffing. This is all they knew, after all. The world outside of Node effectively did not exist, the Node way was the only way, and so this was the genesis of the stubborn, dogmatic thinking that we are dealing with to this day. And then, a steady stream of FAANG veterans started merging into the river of startups, mentoring the newly-minted and highly impressionable young JavaScript server-side engineers. The apostles of the Church of Complexity would assertively claim that “how they did things over at Google” was unquestionable and correct - even if it made no sense with the given context and size. What do you mean you don’t have a separate User Preferences Service? That just will not scale, bro! But, it’s easy to blame the veterans and the newcomers for all of this. What else was happening? Oh yeah - easy money. What do you do when you are flush with venture capital? You don’t go for revenue, surely! On more than one occasion I received an email from management, asking everyone to be in the office, tidy up their desks and look busy, as a clouder of Patagonia vests was about to be paraded through the space. Investors needed to see explosive growth, but not in profitability, no. They just needed to see how quickly the company could hire ultra-expensive software engineers to do … something. And now that you have these developers, what do you do with them? Well, they could build a simpler system that is easier to grow and maintain, or they could conjure up a monstrous constellation of “microservices” that no one really understands. Microservices - the new way of writing scalable software! Are we just going to pretend that the concept of “distributed systems” never existed? (Let’s skip the whole parsing of nuances about microservices not being real distributed systems). Back in the days when the tech industry was not such a bloated farce, distributed systems were respected, feared, and generally avoided - reserved only as the weapon of last resort for particularly gnarly problems. Everything with a distributed system becomes more challenging and time-consuming - development, debugging, deployment, testing, resilience. But I don’t know - maybe it’s all super easy now because toooollling. There is no standard tooling for microservices-based development - there is no common framework. Working on distributed systems has gotten only marginally easier in 2020s. The Dockers and the Kuberneteses of the world did not magically take away the inherent complexity of a distributed setup. I love referring to this summary of 5 years of startup audits, as it is packed with common-sense conclusions: … the startups we audited that are now doing the best usually had an almost brazenly ‘Keep It Simple’ approach to engineering. Cleverness for cleverness sake was abhorred. On the flip side, the companies where we were like ”woah, these folks are smart as hell” for the most part kind of faded. Generally, the major foot-gun that got a lot of places in trouble was the premature move to microservices, architectures that relied on distributed computing, and messaging-heavy designs. Literally - “complexity kills”. The audit revealed an interesting pattern, where many startups experienced a sort of collective imposter syndrome while building straight-forward, simple, performant systems. There is a dogma attached to not starting out with microservices on day one - no matter the problem. “Everyone is doing microservices, yet we have a single Django monolith maintained by just a few engineers, and a MySQL instance - what are we doing wrong?”. The answer is almost always “nothing”. Likewise, it’s very often that seasoned engineers experience hesitation and inadequacy in today’s tech world, and the good news is that, no - it’s probably not you. It’s common for teams to pretend like they are doing “web scale”, hiding behind libraries, ORMs, and cache - confident in their expertise (they crushed that Leetcode!), yet they may not even be aware of database indexing basics. You are operating in a sea of unjustified overconfidence, waste, and Dunning-Kruger, so who is really the imposter here? Renegade Otter is the developer of Friendly Fire - Smarter pull request assignment for GitHub: Slack notifications Out-of-office support File matching Try it now. There is nothing wrong with a monolith The idea that you cannot grow without a system that looks like the infamous slide of Afghanistan war strategy is a myth. Dropbox, Twitter, Netflix, Facebook, GitHub, Instagram, Shopify, StackOverflow - these companies and others started out as monolithic code bases. Many have a monolith at their core to this day. StackOverflow makes it a point of pride how little hardware they need to run the massive site. Shopify is still a Rails monolith, leveraging the tried and true Resque to process billions of tasks. WhatsApp went supernova with their Erlang monolith and a relatively small team. How? WhatsApp consciously keeps the engineering staff small to only about 50 engineers. Individual engineering teams are also small, consisting of 1 - 3 engineers and teams are each given a great deal of autonomy. In terms of servers, WhatsApp prefers to use a smaller number of servers and vertically scale each server to the highest extent possible. Instagram was acquired for billions - with a crew of 12. And do you imagine Threads as an effort involving a whole Meta campus? Nope. They followed the Instagram model, and this is the entire Threads team: Perhaps claiming that your particular problem domain requires a massively complicated distributed system and an open office stuffed to the gills with turbo-geniuses is just crossing over into arrogance rather than brilliance? Don’t solve problems you don’t have It’s a simple question - what problem are you solving? Is it scale? How do you know how to break it all up for scale and performance? Do you have enough data to show what needs to be a separate service and why? Distributed systems are built for size and resilience. Can your system scale and be resilient at the same time? What happens if one of the services goes down or comes to a crawl? Just scale it up? What about the other services that are going to get hit with traffic? Did you war-game the endless permutations of things that can and will go wrong? Is there backpressure? Circuit breakers? Queues? Jitter? Sensible timeouts on every endpoint? Are there fool-proof guards to make sure a simple change does not bring everything down? The knobs you need to be aware of and tune are endless, and they are all specific to your system’s particular signature of usage and load. The truth is that most companies will never reach the massive size that will actually require building a true distributed system. Your cosplaying Amazon and Google - without their scale, expertise, and endless resources - is very likely just an egregious waste of money and time. Religiously following all the steps from an article called “Ten morning habits of very successful people” is not going to make you a billionaire. The only thing harder than a distributed system is a BAD distributed system. “But each team… but separate… but API” Trying to shove a distributed topology into your company’s structure is a noble effort, but it almost always backfires. It’s a common approach to break up a problem into smaller pieces and then solve those one by one. So, the thinking goes, if you break up one service into multiple ones, everything becomes easier. The theory is sweet and elegant - each microservice is being maintained rigorously by a dedicated team, walled off behind a beautiful, backward-compatible, versioned API. In fact, this is so solid that you rarely even have to communicate with that team - as if the microservice was maintained by a 3rd party vendor. It’s simple! If that doesn’t sound familiar, that’s because this rarely happens. In reality, our Slack channels are flooded with messages from teams communicating about releases, bugs, configuration updates, breaking changes, and PSAs. Everyone needs to be on top of everything, all the time. And if that wasn’t great, it’s normal for one already-slammed team to half-ass multiple microservices instead of doing a great job on a single one, often changing ownership as people come and go. In order to win the race, we don’t build one good race car - we build a fleet of shitty golf carts. What you lose There are multiple pitfalls to building with microservices, and often that minefield is either not fully appreciated or simply ignored. Teams spend months writing highly customized tooling and learning lessons not related at all to the core product. Here are just some often overlooked aspects… Say goodbye to DRY After decades of teaching developers to write Don’t Repeat Yourself code, it seems we just stopped talking about it altogether. Microservices by default are not DRY, with every service stuffed with redundant boilerplate. Very often the overhead of such “plumbing” is so heavy, and the size of the microservices is so small, that the average instance of a service has more “service” than “product”. So what about the common code that can be factored out? Have a common library? How does the common library get updated? Keep different versions everywhere? Force updates regularly, creating dozens of pull requests across all repositories? Keep it all in a monorepo? That comes with its own set of problems. Allow for some code duplication? Forget it, each team gets to reinvent the wheel every time. Each company going this route faces these choices, and there are no good “ergonomic” options - you have to choose your version of the pain. Developer ergonomics will crater “Developer ergonomics” is the friction, the amount of effort a developer must go through in order to get something done, be it working on a new feature or resolving a bug. With microservices, an engineer has to have a mental map of the entire system in order to know what services to bring up for any particular task, what teams to talk to, whom to talk to, and what about. The “you have to know everything before doing anything” principle. How do you keep on top of it? Spotify, a multi-billion dollar company, spent probably not negligible internal resources to build Backstage, software for cataloging its endless systems and services. This should at least give you a clue that this game is not for everyone, and the price of the ride is high. So what about the tooooling? The Not Spotifies of the world are left with MacGyvering their own solutions, robustness and portability of which you can probably guess. And how many teams actually streamline the process of starting a YASS - “yet another stupid service”? This includes: Developer privileges in GitHub/GitLab Default environment variables and configuration CI/CD Code quality checkers Code review settings Branch rules and protections Monitoring and observability Test harness Infrastructure-as-code And of course, multiply this list by the number of programming languages used throughout the company. Maybe you have a usable template or a runbook? Maybe a frictionless, one-click system to launch a new service from scratch? It takes months to iron out all the kinks with this kind of automation. So, you can either work on your product, or you can be working on toooooling. Integration tests - LOL As if the everyday microservices grind was not enough, you also forfeit the peace of mind offered by solid integration tests. Your single-service and unit tests are passing, but are your critical paths still intact after each commit? Who is in charge of the overall integration test suite, in Postman or wherever else? Is there one? Integration testing a distributed setup is a nearly-impossible problem, so we pretty much gave up on that and replaced it with another one - Observability. Just like “microservices” are the new “distributed systems”, “observability” is the new “debugging in production”. Surely, you are not writing real software if you are not doing…. observability! Observability has become its own sector, and you will pay in both pretty penny and in developer time for it. It doesn’t come as plug-and-pay either - you need to understand and implement canary releases, feature flags, etc. Who is doing that? One already overwhelmed engineer? As you can see, breaking up your problem does not make solving it easier - all you get is another set of even harder problems. What about just “services”? Why do your services need to be “micro”? What’s wrong with just services? Some startups have gone as far as create a service for each function, and yes, “isn’t that just like Lambda” is a valid question. This gives you an idea of how far gone this unchecked cargo cult is. So what do we do? Starting with a monolith is one obvious choice. A pattern that could also work in many instances is “trunk & branches”, where the main “meat and potatoes” monolith is helped by “branch” services. A branch service can be one that takes care of a clearly-identifiable and separately-scalable load. A CPU-hungry Image-Resizing Service makes way more sense than a User Registration Service. Or do you get so many registrations per second that it requires independent horizontal scaling? Side note: In version control, back in the days of CVS and Subversion, we rarely used "master" branches. We had "trunk and branches" because, you know - *trees*. "Master" branches appeared somewhere along the way, and when GitHub decided to do away with the rather unfortunate naming convention, the average engineer was too young to remember about "trunk" - and so the generic "main" default came to be. The pendulum is swinging back The hype, however, seems to be dying down. The VC cash faucet is tightening, and so the businesses have been market-corrected into exercising common-sense decisions, recognizing that perhaps splurging on web-scale architectures when they don’t have web-scale problems is not sustainable. Ultimately, when faced with the need to travel from New York to Philadelphia, you have two options. You can either attempt to construct a highly intricate spaceship for an orbital descent to your destination, or you can simply purchase an Amtrak train ticket for a 90-minute ride. That is the problem at hand. Additional reading & listening How to recover from microservices You want modules, not microservices XML is the future Gasp! You might not need microservices Podcast: How we keep Stack Overflow’s codebase clean and modern Goodbye Microservices: From 100s of problem children to 1 superstar It’s the future Renegade Otter is the developer of Friendly Fire - Smarter pull request assignment for GitHub: Slack notifications Out-of-office support File matching Try it now.

a year ago 10 votes

More in programming

My friend, JT

I’ve had a cat for almost a third of my life.

16 hours ago 5 votes
[Course Launch] Hands-on Introduction to X86 Assembly

A Live, Interactive Course for Systems Engineers

19 hours ago 3 votes
Diagnosis in engineering strategy.

Once you’ve written your strategy’s exploration, the next step is working on its diagnosis. Diagnosis is understanding the constraints and challenges your strategy needs to address. In particular, it’s about doing that understanding while slowing yourself down from deciding how to solve the problem at hand before you know the problem’s nuances and constraints. If you ever find yourself wanting to skip the diagnosis phase–let’s get to the solution already!–then maybe it’s worth acknowledging that every strategy that I’ve seen fail, did so due to a lazy or inaccurate diagnosis. It’s very challenging to fail with a proper diagnosis, and almost impossible to succeed without one. The topics this chapter will cover are: Why diagnosis is the foundation of effective strategy, on which effective policy depends. Conversely, how skipping the diagnosis phase consistently ruins strategies A step-by-step approach to diagnosing your strategy’s circumstances How to incorporate data into your diagnosis effectively, and where to focus on adding data Dealing with controversial elements of your diagnosis, such as pointing out that your own executive is one of the challenges to solve Why it’s more effective to view difficulties as part of the problem to be solved, rather than a blocking issue that prevents making forward progress The near impossibility of an effective diagnosis if you don’t bring humility and self-awareness to the process Into the details we go! This is an exploratory, draft chapter for a book on engineering strategy that I’m brainstorming in #eng-strategy-book. As such, some of the links go to other draft chapters, both published drafts and very early, unpublished drafts. Diagnosis is strategy’s foundation One of the challenges in evaluating strategy is that, after the fact, many effective strategies are so obvious that they’re pretty boring. Similarly, most ineffective strategies are so clearly flawed that their authors look lazy. That’s because, as a strategy is operated, the reality around it becomes clear. When you’re writing your strategy, you don’t know if you can convince your colleagues to adopt a new approach to specifying APIs, but a year later you know very definitively whether it’s possible. Building your strategy’s diagnosis is your attempt to correctly recognize the context that the strategy needs to solve before deciding on the policies to address that context. Done well, the subsequent steps of writing strategy often feel like an afterthought, which is why I think of diagnosis as strategy’s foundation. Where exploration was an evaluation-free activity, diagnosis is all about evaluation. How do teams feel today? Why did that project fail? Why did the last strategy go poorly? What will be the distractions to overcome to make this new strategy successful? That said, not all evaluation is equal. If you state your judgment directly, it’s easy to dispute. An effective diagnosis is hard to argue against, because it’s a web of interconnected observations, facts, and data. Even for folks who dislike your conclusions, the weight of evidence should be hard to shift. Strategy testing, explored in the Refinement section, takes advantage of the reality that it’s easier to diagnose by doing than by speculating. It proposes a recursive diagnosis process until you have real-world evidence that the strategy is working. How to develop your diagnosis Your strategy is almost certain to fail unless you start from an effective diagnosis, but how to build a diagnosis is often left unspecified. That’s because, for most folks, building the diagnosis is indeed a dark art: unspecified, undiscussion, and uncontrollable. I’ve been guilty of this as well, with The Engineering Executive’s Primer’s chapter on strategy staying silent on the details of how to diagnose for your strategy. So, yes, there is some truth to the idea that forming your diagnosis is an emergent, organic process rather than a structured, mechanical one. However, over time I’ve come to adopt a fairly structured approach: Braindump, starting from a blank sheet of paper, write down your best understanding of the circumstances that inform your current strategy. Then set that piece of paper aside for the moment. Summarize exploration on a new piece of paper, review the contents of your exploration. Pull in every piece of diagnosis from similar situations that resonates with you. This is true for both internal and external works! For each diagnosis, tag whether it fits perfectly, or needs to be adjusted for your current circumstances. Then, once again, set the piece of paper aside. Mine for distinct perspectives on yet another blank page, talking to different stakeholders and colleagues who you know are likely to disagree with your early thinking. Your goal is not to agree with this feedback. Instead, it’s to understand their view. The Crux by Richard Rumelt anchors diagnosis in this approach, emphasizing the importance of “testing, adjusting, and changing the frame, or point of view.” Synthesize views into one internally consistent perspective. Sometimes the different perspectives you’ve gathered don’t mesh well. They might well explicitly differ in what they believe the underlying problem is, as is typical in tension between platform and product engineering teams. The goal is to competently represent each of these perspectives in the diagnosis, even the ones you disagree with, so that later on you can evaluate your proposed approach against each of them. When synthesizing feedback goes poorly, it tends to fail in one of two ways. First, the author’s opinion shines through so strongly that it renders the author suspect. Your goal is never to agree with every team’s perspective, just as your diagnosis should typically avoid crowning any perspective as correct: a reader should generally be appraised of the details and unaware of the author. The second common issue is when a group tries to jointly own the synthesis, but create a fractured perspective rather than a unified one. I generally find that having one author who is accountable for representing all views works best to address both of these issues. Test drafts across perspectives. Once you’ve written your initial diagnosis, you want to sit down with the people who you expect to disagree most fervently. Iterate with them until they agree that you’ve accurately captured their perspective. It might be that they disagree with some other view points, but they should be able to agree that others hold those views. They might argue that the data you’ve included doesn’t capture their full reality, in which case you can caveat the data by saying that their team disagrees that it’s a comprehensive lens. Don’t worry about getting the details perfectly right in your initial diagnosis. You’re trying to get the right crumbs to feed into the next phase, strategy refinement. Allowing yourself to be directionally correct, rather than perfectly correct, makes it possible to cover a broad territory quickly. Getting caught up in perfecting details is an easy way to anchor yourself into one perspective prematurely. At this point, I hope you’re starting to predict how I’ll conclude any recipe for strategy creation: if these steps feel overly mechanical to you, adjust them to something that feels more natural and authentic. There’s no perfect way to understand complex problems. That said, if you feel uncertain, or are skeptical of your own track record, I do encourage you to start with the above approach as a launching point. Incorporating data into your diagnosis The strategy for Navigating Private Equity ownership’s diagnosis includes a number of details to help readers understand the status quo. For example the section on headcount growth explains headcount growth, how it compares to the prior year, and providing a mental model for readers to translate engineering headcount into engineering headcount costs: Our Engineering headcount costs have grown by 15% YoY this year, and 18% YoY the prior year. Headcount grew 7% and 9% respectively, with the difference between headcount and headcount costs explained by salary band adjustments (4%), a focus on hiring senior roles (3%), and increased hiring in higher cost geographic regions (1%). If everyone evaluating a strategy shares the same foundational data, then evaluating the strategy becomes vastly simpler. Data is also your mechanism for supporting or critiquing the various views that you’ve gathered when drafting your diagnosis; to an impartial reader, data will speak louder than passion. If you’re confident that a perspective is true, then include a data narrative that supports it. If you believe another perspective is overstated, then include data that the reader will require to come to the same conclusion. Do your best to include data analysis with a link out to the full data, rather than requiring readers to interpret the data themselves while they are reading. As your strategy document travels further, there will be inevitable requests for different cuts of data to help readers understand your thinking, and this is somewhat preventable by linking to your original sources. If much of the data you want doesn’t exist today, that’s a fairly common scenario for strategy work: if the data to make the decision easy already existed, you probably would have already made a decision rather than needing to run a structured thinking process. The next chapter on refining strategy covers a number of tools that are useful for building confidence in low-data environments. Whisper the controversial parts At one time, the company I worked at rolled out a bar raiser program styled after Amazon’s, where there was an interviewer from outside the team that had to approve every hire. I spent some time arguing against adding this additional step as I didn’t understand what we were solving for, and I was surprised at how disinterested management was about knowing if the new process actually improved outcomes. What I didn’t realize until much later was that most of the senior leadership distrusted one of their peers, and had rolled out the bar raiser program solely to create a mechanism to control that manager’s hiring bar when the CTO was disinterested holding that leader accountable. (I also learned that these leaders didn’t care much about implementing this policy, resulting in bar raiser rejections being frequently ignored, but that’s a discussion for the Operations for strategy chapter.) This is a good example of a strategy that does make sense with the full diagnosis, but makes little sense without it, and where stating part of the diagnosis out loud is nearly impossible. Even senior leaders are not generally allowed to write a document that says, “The Director of Product Engineering is a bad hiring manager.” When you’re writing a strategy, you’ll often find yourself trying to choose between two awkward options: Say something awkward or uncomfortable about your company or someone working within it Omit a critical piece of your diagnosis that’s necessary to understand the wider thinking Whenever you encounter this sort of debate, my advice is to find a way to include the diagnosis, but to reframe it into a palatable statement that avoids casting blame too narrowly. I think it’s helpful to discuss a few concrete examples of this, starting with the strategy for navigating private equity, whose diagnosis includes: Based on general practice, it seems likely that our new Private Equity ownership will expect us to reduce R&D headcount costs through a reduction. However, we don’t have any concrete details to make a structured decision on this, and our approach would vary significantly depending on the size of the reduction. There are many things the authors of this strategy likely feel about their state of reality. First, they are probably upset about the fact that their new private equity ownership is likely to eliminate colleagues. Second, they are likely upset that there is no clear plan around what they need to do, so they are stuck preparing for a wide range of potential outcomes. However they feel, they don’t say any of that, they stick to precise, factual statements. For a second example, we can look to the Uber service migration strategy: Within infrastructure engineering, there is a team of four engineers responsible for service provisioning today. While our organization is growing at a similar rate as product engineering, none of that additional headcount is being allocated directly to the team working on service provisioning. We do not anticipate this changing. The team didn’t agree that their headcount should not be growing, but it was the reality they were operating in. They acknowledged their reality as a factual statement, without any additional commentary about that statement. In both of these examples, they found a professional, non-judgmental way to acknowledge the circumstances they were solving. The authors would have preferred that the leaders behind those decisions take explicit accountability for them, but it would have undermined the strategy work had they attempted to do it within their strategy writeup. Excluding critical parts of your diagnosis makes your strategies particularly hard to evaluate, copy or recreate. Find a way to say things politely to make the strategy effective. As always, strategies are much more about realities than ideals. Reframe blockers as part of diagnosis When I work on strategy with early-career leaders, an idea that comes up a lot is that an identified problem means that strategy is not possible. For example, they might argue that doing strategy work is impossible at their current company because the executive team changes their mind too often. That core insight is almost certainly true, but it’s much more powerful to reframe that as a diagnosis: if we don’t find a way to show concrete progress quickly, and use that to excite the executive team, our strategy is likely to fail. This transforms the thing preventing your strategy into a condition your strategy needs to address. Whenever you run into a reason why your strategy seems unlikely to work, or why strategy overall seems difficult, you’ve found an important piece of your diagnosis to include. There are never reasons why strategy simply cannot succeed, only diagnoses you’ve failed to recognize. For example, we knew in our work on Uber’s service provisioning strategy that we weren’t getting more headcount for the team, the product engineering team was going to continue growing rapidly, and that engineering leadership was unwilling to constrain how product engineering worked. Rather than preventing us from implementing a strategy, those components clarified what sort of approach could actually succeed. The role of self-awareness Every problem of today is partially rooted in the decisions of yesterday. If you’ve been with your organization for any duration at all, this means that you are directly or indirectly responsible for a portion of the problems that your diagnosis ought to recognize. This means that recognizing the impact of your prior actions in your diagnosis is a powerful demonstration of self-awareness. It also suggests that your next strategy’s success is rooted in your self-awareness about your prior choices. Don’t be afraid to recognize the failures in your past work. While changing your mind without new data is a sign of chaotic leadership, changing your mind with new data is a sign of thoughtful leadership. Summary Because diagnosis is the foundation of effective strategy, I’ve always found it the most intimidating phase of strategy work. While I think that’s a somewhat unavoidable reality, my hope is that this chapter has somewhat prepared you for that challenge. The four most important things to remember are simply: form your diagnosis before deciding how to solve it, try especially hard to capture perspectives you initially disagree with, supplement intuition with data where you can, and accept that sometimes you’re missing the data you need to fully understand. The last piece in particular, is why many good strategies never get shared, and the topic we’ll address in the next chapter on strategy refinement.

yesterday 4 votes
It’s cool to care

I’m sitting in a small coffee shop in Brooklyn. I have a warm drink, and it’s just started to snow outside. I’m visiting New York to see Operation Mincemeat on Broadway – I was at the dress rehearsal yesterday, and I’ll be at the opening preview tonight. I’ve seen this show more times than I care to count, and I hope US theater-goers love it as much as Brits. The people who make the show will tell you that it’s about a bunch of misfits who thought they could do something ridiculous, who had the audacity to believe in something unlikely. That’s certainly one way to see it. The musical tells the true story of a group of British spies who tried to fool Hitler with a dead body, fake papers, and an outrageous plan that could easily have failed. Decades later, the show’s creators would mirror that same spirit of unlikely ambition. Four friends, armed with their creativity, determination, and a wardrobe full of hats, created a new musical in a small London theatre. And after a series of transfers, they’re about to open the show under the bright lights of Broadway. But when I watch the show, I see a story about friendship. It’s about how we need our friends to help us, to inspire us, to push us to be the best versions of ourselves. I see the swaggering leader who needs a team to help him truly achieve. The nervous scientist who stands up for himself with the support of his friends. The enthusiastic secretary who learns wisdom and resilience from her elder. And so, I suppose, it’s fitting that I’m not in New York on my own. I’m here with friends – dozens of wonderful people who I met through this ridiculous show. At first, I was just an audience member. I sat in my seat, I watched the show, and I laughed and cried with equal measure. After the show, I waited at stage door to thank the cast. Then I came to see the show a second time. And a third. And a fourth. After a few trips, I started to see familiar faces waiting with me at stage door. So before the cast came out, we started chatting. Those conversations became a Twitter community, then a Discord, then a WhatsApp. We swapped fan art, merch, and stories of our favourite moments. We went to other shows together, and we hung out outside the theatre. I spent New Year’s Eve with a few of these friends, sitting on somebody’s floor and laughing about a bowl of limes like it was the funniest thing in the world. And now we’re together in New York. Meeting this kind, funny, and creative group of people might seem as unlikely as the premise of Mincemeat itself. But I believed it was possible, and here we are. I feel so lucky to have met these people, to take this ridiculous trip, to share these precious days with them. I know what a privilege this is – the time, the money, the ability to say let’s do this and make it happen. How many people can gather a dozen friends for even a single evening, let alone a trip halfway round the world? You might think it’s silly to travel this far for a theatre show, especially one we’ve seen plenty of times in London. Some people would never see the same show twice, and most of us are comfortably into double or triple-figures. Whenever somebody asks why, I don’t have a good answer. Because it’s fun? Because it’s moving? Because I enjoy it? I feel the need to justify it, as if there’s some logical reason that will make all of this okay. But maybe I don’t have to. Maybe joy doesn’t need justification. A theatre show doesn’t happen without people who care. Neither does a friendship. So much of our culture tells us that it’s not cool to care. It’s better to be detached, dismissive, disinterested. Enthusiasm is cringe. Sincerity is weakness. I’ve certainly felt that pressure – the urge to play it cool, to pretend I’m above it all. To act as if I only enjoy something a “normal” amount. Well, fuck that. I don’t know where the drive to be detached comes from. Maybe it’s to protect ourselves, a way to guard against disappointment. Maybe it’s to seem sophisticated, as if having passions makes us childish or less mature. Or perhaps it’s about control – if we stay detached, we never have to depend on others, we never have to trust in something bigger than ourselves. Being detached means you can’t get hurt – but you’ll also miss out on so much joy. I’m a big fan of being a big fan of things. So many of the best things in my life have come from caring, from letting myself be involved, from finding people who are a big fan of the same things as me. If I pretended not to care, I wouldn’t have any of that. Caring – deeply, foolishly, vulnerably – is how I connect with people. My friends and I care about this show, we care about each other, and we care about our joy. That care and love for each other is what brought us together, and without it we wouldn’t be here in this city. I know this is a once-in-a-lifetime trip. So many stars had to align – for us to meet, for the show we love to be successful, for us to be able to travel together. But if we didn’t care, none of those stars would have aligned. I know so many other friends who would have loved to be here but can’t be, for all kinds of reasons. Their absence isn’t for lack of caring, and they want the show to do well whether or not they’re here. I know they care, and that’s the important thing. To butcher Tennyson: I think it’s better to care about something you cannot affect, than to care about nothing at all. In a world that’s full of cynicism and spite and hatred, I feel that now more than ever. I’d recommend you go to the show if you haven’t already, but that’s not really the point of this post. Maybe you’ve already seen Operation Mincemeat, and it wasn’t for you. Maybe you’re not a theatre kid. Maybe you aren’t into musicals, or history, or war stories. That’s okay. I don’t mind if you care about different things to me. (Imagine how boring the world would be if we all cared about the same things!) But I want you to care about something. I want you to find it, find people who care about it too, and hold on to them. Because right now, in this city, with these people, at this show? I’m so glad I did. And I hope you find that sort of happiness too. Some of the people who made this trip special. Photo by Chloe, and taken from her Twitter. Timing note: I wrote this on February 15th, but I delayed posting it because I didn’t want to highlight the fact I was away from home. [If the formatting of this post looks odd in your feed reader, visit the original article]

2 days ago 4 votes
Stick with the customer

One of the biggest mistakes that new startup founders make is trying to get away from the customer-facing roles too early. Whether it's customer support or it's sales, it's an incredible advantage to have the founders doing that work directly, and for much longer than they find comfortable. The absolute worst thing you can do is hire a sales person or a customer service agent too early. You'll miss all the golden nuggets that customers throw at you for free when they're rejecting your pitch or complaining about the product. Seeing these reasons paraphrased or summarized destroy all the nutrients in their insights. You want that whole-grain feedback straight from the customers' mouth!  When we launched Basecamp in 2004, Jason was doing all the customer service himself. And he kept doing it like that for three years!! By the time we hired our first customer service agent, Jason was doing 150 emails/day. The business was doing millions of dollars in ARR. And Basecamp got infinitely, better both as a market proposition and as a product, because Jason could funnel all that feedback into decisions and positioning. For a long time after that, we did "Everyone on Support". Frequently rotating programmers, designers, and founders through a day of answering emails directly to customers. The dividends of doing this were almost as high as having Jason run it all in the early years. We fixed an incredible number of minor niggles and annoying bugs because programmers found it easier to solve the problem than to apologize for why it was there. It's not easy doing this! Customers often offer their valuable insights wrapped in rude language, unreasonable demands, and bad suggestions. That's why many founders quit the business of dealing with them at the first opportunity. That's why few companies ever do "Everyone On Support". That's why there's such eagerness to reduce support to an AI-only interaction. But quitting dealing with customers early, not just in support but also in sales, is an incredible handicap for any startup. You don't have to do everything that every customer demands of you, but you should certainly listen to them. And you can't listen well if the sound is being muffled by early layers of indirection.

2 days ago 4 votes