Personal

Hey! I’m famous!

Dave Farquhar Personal, Software, Viruses , , , ,

I got mentioned in a post about Adblock Plus on Lifehacker.

In a comment about something else, I mentioned that you should install Adblock Plus and turn on the Malware Domains subscription to give yourself protection beyond what your antivirus software does. If intercepting bad-guy software is good, not even downloading it in the first place is better.

I guess someone liked the advice.

I wanna blow bubbles!

Dave Farquhar Parenting, Personal, Saving money ,

My oldest son’s obsession is blowing bubbles. If he’s awake, it’s what he wants to do. If he doesn’t want to do something, offering to let him blow bubbles if he does that something often works.

The trouble is that an 8 ounce bottle lasts him about an hour and costs between 75 cents and a dollar. That can make for an expensive 3-day weekend, unless you make it yourself.I’ve seen a number of recipes. The recipe I tried may not be the best, but it’s better than any of the commercial formulations we’ve tried.

I took 1/4 cup of Costco dish detergent (it was what I had), 1/2 cup of water, and a tablespoon of sugar, which I stirred and poured into his used bubble bottle.

Most recipes suggest Dawn or Joy. For these purposes, I’m sure concentration matters a lot more than brand. Some recipes call for glycerin or corn syrup instead of sugar. Corn syrup and glycerin aren’t things I have any other reason to keep around, so I used sugar.

The concoction left enough room in his 8-ounce bottle to make it easier to use.

Google says a gallon of Dawn costs $15 at warehouse stores. That would make 64 refills, cutting the cost to about 25 cents a pop. I don’t remember what the Costco brand costs, but it’s probably less than that.

Where I am

Dave Farquhar Music, Personal ,

I’ve been trying to keep a lower profile online the last couple of weeks. But telling everyone where you are seems to be the rage these days.

I’m in my living room. I’m here a lot.Earlier tonight, I was making toy cars with my oldest son ("Daddy, make more school buses!"). We have a routine. I make them, he plays with them until he gets bored. Sometimes he lets me play too. Once he gets bored with that, he takes them apart. Sometimes he brings me the pieces, which I reassemble into something a little different. As the night goes on, the cars get weirder and weirder.

The game will probably change when he gets a little older and discovers, like my cousin and I did, that you can crash the cars into each other.

After both sons went to bed, I wound down by watching old Guadalcanal Diary videos on Youtube. Guadalcanal Diary was an indie rock band that came up around the same time and place as R.E.M. They were a little weirder, immensely talented, and a lot less successful. The DJ who used to play alternative music on Sunday nights on one of the Top 40 stations in St. Louis in the late 1980s and early 1990s would mix them in very occasionally. I’m pretty sure by the time I’d heard of them, they’d already broken up.

I think their singer, Murray Attaway, could croon with almost anybody. The single off their final album, "Always Saturday," shows off those abilities. But their songs tended to be a little too cerebral, and maybe a little too dark, for mass audiences.

I won’t be posting another update like this one. The routine will be about the same tomorrow. And probably in a couple of weeks, though by then, I might be listening to some other forgotten band.

The best boss I ever worked for

Dave Farquhar Personal

I had a brief conversation with my former boss’ widow today.

A few weeks before I was hired, he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. By the time I started, he was only working a few hours a week. In February I went on the road to work offsite for a week, and the week after I came back, he died.He had been a Marine Staff Sergeant and an Air Force Major. Out of respect, I will just refer to him as "The Major."

The Major’s accomplishments in the Air Force were the stuff of legend. He had a pattern of coming in and accomplishing superhuman things in mind-boggling periods of time. Doing more with less wasn’t a mantra with him. It was a gift.

I know his secret.

The Major wasn’t able to drive himself for any of the time I knew him, due to the pain medications he was taking. One day The Major needed to run an errand. It was a slow day, so he asked me if I would drive him. I agreed, of course.

I was parked about a half mile away (don’t ask), so I offered to pick him up at the door. He wouldn’t have any of that. He wanted to talk.

So we walked. I walk fast–the result of having too many classes in college back-to-back that were across campus–but he didn’t have to ask me to slow down very many times.

He told me a little about his career. About going into the Marines, working for a tape factory, going back to school, then becoming an officer in the Air Force. Then he stopped.

"What’s your background?"

He knew my resume, so I concentrated on the types of work I’d done, zeroing in on the parts I thought were relevant, based on the work we did.

I don’t remember what we talked about after that. Not much, I don’t think. His mind was turning.

I dropped him off where he needed to go, and waited for him. He wasn’t long. He didn’t get what he needed there.

But he did come back with a question. An exceptionally good question. In fact, I heard the question from our customers several times in the weeks that followed. But he was the first to ask it.

It was a simple question, but the answer wasn’t so simple. It begged for a repeatable process. I gave him the superficial answer that politeness demanded, then added, "but it really needs a documented process." He asked me to do that, and the result was that initial answer got a lot more refinement.

And eventually, the reason he was successful dawned on me.

He’d asked me to do things before. He’d handed me things to read and comment on before. But those were little things, mostly. This was a bigger-picture thing.

I’m sure he had an agenda. Managers always have agendas. But he didn’t let the last phone call he’d taken or the last meeting he’d attended drive his questions.

He set that aside for a minute in favor of another question. "What’s one question I have that this new guy would be able to answer?"

Unfortunately, he never got a chance to ask me a second one.

After he died, I heard some more stories, including stories about things he’d accomplished in the Air Force while stationed overseas. I imagined him having similar conversations with the people who worked for him, dividing up the work ahead into pieces of a puzzle, and determining who he had who could take each piece of it.

He likes ’em young

Dave Farquhar Personal

My two-year-old got a hand-addressed letter in the mail today from his bank. He has a kids’ club account there. They give kids some ridiculous interest rate (7% or so) on balances up to $500, up until age 13. It’s an effective tactic to get parents in the door so they can sell them other accounts and services.

The contents of the letter weren’t exactly what I expected. My wife couldn’t figure out why I was laughing uncontrollably.The letter, you see, was from the senior loan officer. It was offering him a mortgage, and offering to get him pre-approved at no charge.

I have visions of a red Radio Flyer pedal car and a red tricycle parked in the driveway of the house for sale down the street. My two year old getting his own crib, if you know what I mean. A place he can call his own, and draw on the walls with crayons all he wants.

But wait, there’s more! What if he already has a mortgage? Hey, it’s not unfathomable. Perhaps some rival bank beat them to the punch–they’ve had two years to do it, after all. In that event, they’re prepared to offer him a home equity line of credit.

I can’t tell you how badly I want to get an application form, fill it out in crayon, and send it in.

After my two year old gets a chance to scribble on it, of course.

Carousel.

Dave Farquhar Parenting, Personal

On Sunday, we took our son to the Indianapolis Children’s Museum, the oldest and one of the largest–if not the largest–establishment of its kind. I didn’t really know what to expect, so I picked up a brochure and had a look.

The brochure recommended either starting or ending the day on the 4th floor, with a carousel ride.We didn’t do either, but we made our way up there eventually. I’ve only ridden on an antique carousel once, about 25 years ago. There’s a carousel built in 1890 (I looked it up) near my dad’s hometown in Bucks County, Pennsylvania.

The Indianapolis carousel was built in 1917 by Gustav Dentzel, a carousel manufacturer in Philadelphia. Through a series of unfortunate events, eventually the carousel ended up being rebuilt, restored, and installed at the museum. A series of signs tells the story of this particular carousel, along with a brief history of them. Although some 5,000 carousels were built between 1880 and 1930, only about 175 of them remain.

When we arrived, the carousel was pretty much full, with a line waiting to get on. We stood off to the side and watched–both the carousel and our son. He watched the carousel, and lit up as soon as the carousel started moving and the music started playing. He started laughing, and I don’t think he took his eyes off it until it stopped moving.

At first we weren’t so sure about him riding the carousel, since he’s still so young. We definitely ruled out a ride on a moving animal, but after that reaction, not going for a ride would just be cruel.

So once it stopped moving, we got in line. Fortunately we were able to find a bench in a chariot, big enough for the three of us. He sat in the middle, his eyes huge with anticipation. I’ve never seen him sit patiently for anything before–he’s less than 20 months old–but he was perfectly willing to sit for this. After what must have seemed like an eternity to him, the carousel started moving, the colorful wooden animals started pumping up and down, and the old Wurlitzer organ started playing. It moved faster than I expected, but he wasn’t scared. He just held on and enjoyed the ride.

It must have lasted all of five minutes. But what a five minutes it was.

There’s something timeless and almost magical about those old carousels.

If you’re ever in Indianapolis, go. If there’s an authentic, pre-1930 carousel somewhere near you, go. You’ll never regret it, and they really don’t make ’em like that anymore.

Wendy’s

Dave Farquhar Personal

On Saturday night we stopped at Wendy’s for dinner. It wasn’t an intentional choice–we would have preferred something more distinctly Indianapolis, but the St. Louis area Wendy’s franchisee went bankrupt, so there are only a couple of Wendy’s left in St. Louis, none anywhere near our house.We ordered a chicken nuggets kids meal for our son. One of the workers must have been new, because he just put the nuggets and fries on the tray–no bag, no nothing. The manager walked up, looked at the tray, and said, "What are you thinking?" They pulled the fries and nuggets back, and my son started crying and screaming.

He knows what’s his. And he knows when he’s hungry.

Into a bag they went, and the bag appeared on the tray again while I tried to console my son.

"You made that baby cry," they said behind the counter as we walked to a table.

They put two toys in his kid’s meal though. I guess that was to make up for the mistake.

One of the toys was a carousel. He loves carousels, but on Saturday night he didn’t know that yet. That’s another story.

My last day at Initech

Dave Farquhar Personal

OK, so I didn’t work for Initech. I couldn’t resist the Office Space reference. But as of 4:08PM CST yesterday, I am unemployed. Fortunately this time it’s only until 8:00AM CST on Monday.

I pretty much intended to just go in, clean out my desk, work as much as possible like I would any other day, and stay until someone came and told me it was time to leave.

But of course it wasn’t quite that simple.I did a lot of mundane stuff that morning, mostly because I’d been putting it off as long as possible. I signed in and took care of a couple of things. I answered a couple of questions (verbally) about some really old Microsoft patches and whether they were deployed. They were.

Around noon, I sent out a farewell e-mail message. A lot of people respond to those, as it turns out, so I’m glad I didn’t wait until later to send it. One of my managers wrote back and said, “We always knew if Dave was taking care of something, it would be done right and we didn’t have to worry about it.”

That was nice to read. In this job, I tried to be as unassuming as possible. I think when your job is primarily security, the less notice you get, the better job you’re doing. One might think that a security guy who catches a hacker is a hero, but I think if you catch a hacker, that means you failed. The hacker should just bounce off the security measures you put up, and never get in in the first place.

Those Microsoft questions prompted more e-mail from me, a sort of final “state of the network” address if you will. Some questions will come up after I’m gone, and some of them could very well be in a year or two. Hopefully when that time comes, someone will remember that memo.

The morning came and went, as did part of the afternoon, before I knew what I was supposed to do to outprocess.

At 3 PM my boss called. I packed up my stuff one last time and met him in the parking lot. I handed over two of my badges, and he drove me to another building so I could turn in my laptop. I answered a question from a high-ranking manager about SecureCRT. He thanked me and assured me there were no hard feelings. A better opportunity came along and I took it. He said it’s happened to everyone.

From there I had to make one more trip to another office, in the next town over, to sign some papers and turn in the last of my ID badges.

The HR representative apologized for a couple of snags that happened in outprocessing. I shrugged. “At least I didn’t get a mysterious meeting request with only one other invitee, then walk in the door and find out I didn’t have a job anymore,” I said. She gave an absolutely horrified look. “Happened to me a few years ago,” I said.

It was pretty much the opposite of that Office Space scene. No being escorted out of the building. No suspicion. The funny thing was, until about 3 PM, I was nearly alone in the office. Most of my other coworkers hit the 40-hour mark early in the day, so they split around noon.

It wasn’t quite a matter of deleting my own accounts and then turning out the lights and locking the door behind myself, but it was the next closest thing.

It’s good to be trusted.

So on a crisp Friday afternoon in October, I hopped in my car, rolled the window down a little, and pulled onto I-64. Monday would come soon enough, but in this case, it would be a lot more than just the start of a new work week.

Barfy.

Dave Farquhar Personal, Servers and Networking, War Stories , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I started my professional career doing network administration at the University of Missouri. (I generally don’t count my stint selling low-quality PCs at the last surviving national consumer electronics chain towards my professional experience anymore.)

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Why I quit my job

Dave Farquhar Personal , ,

Today, some 10 years and 11 months since the last time I did it, I left a job on my own terms. I called my boss, asked to see him, and walked to his office with a single-page letter in hand.

It’s not something I’m especially good at, and, being a fixer by nature, it’s not something I’m usually inclined to do. And while there are several things about this job that I won’t miss at all, my main reason for leaving is health care.At first it was an annoyance. I went to the chiropractor. I go once every six weeks or so. I don’t have horrible problems, but a tuneup every few weeks makes everything work better. My old employer sent me a letter of encouragement when I started going.

My new employer and its insurer didn’t do that. They just denied the claims. Then they told the doctor’s office one thing and told me another. Way to keep the story straight. The insurer actually encouraged me to negotiate with the doctor and see if she would just take cash under the table instead of using insurance.

Nice.

Aside from that, I rarely go to the doctor. I don’t get sick very often. My cholesterol was off-the-charts good the last time I checked it, and I eat healthier now than I did then. I go when I have reason to go. It could be next month, but it could just as easily be years.

My wife and son go more often than I do. He goes because he’s a year and a half old. My wife goes due to a medical condition. It’s not her fault and she manages it well, but it’s something she has to deal with, and doing so requires regular medical attention.

So every time they go to the doctor, after paying the $30 copay, we get a bill a few weeks later for stuff the insurance company decided not to cover. Usually the bill was three figures. The most offensive thing they refused to cover was my son’s vaccinations.

My employer wanted my son to get polio?

Well, probably not, but that’s the message they sent. Message received.

Compare that to the actions of my previous employer. The insurance company was hassling us over an anti-nausea drug that my wife needed when she was pregnant. I complained to the employer. They made some phone calls and my wife got her medicine. Then, at the end of the year, they changed to an insurance company they’d used in the past, citing better coverage.

That sent a message too. A message I like better.

So when I heard of a job at the previous employer, I sent in a resume. The main reason I work in this field, as opposed to being self-employed, is to provide for my family. My job involves some fighting, mostly to get unwilling computers to do what they’re supposed to do, but sometimes there are political battles too.

To do my job effectively, I need to save my fight for the computers. Ensuring that my son doesn’t get polio in 2009 ought to be a simple matter of making a deduction from my paycheck, taking him to the doctor and making a copayment. I shouldn’t have to fight the insurance company for basic, routine coverage.

I got the call today with an offer. They wanted me back. On top of good health care coverage, they also offered me a raise. That helped too, since I had several reasons to believe I wouldn’t be getting one of those next year.

So I turned in the resignation letter. My boss asked if it was just about money. I told him the health care was the clincher, and I told him about the large bills I was receiving for routine doctor visits. He seemed to understand. He even seemed a little offended.

It ran up the chain. I got a phone call from a high-ranking executive today. He wanted to know what would make me stay. He didn’t like my health care story either. I told him about what my previous and soon to be future employer had done in a similar situation.

He said I wasn’t the only one who had had issues. Now that I’ve thought about it, I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.

He asked if I thought this problem might cause the company to lose other employees. I said I didn’t know, but it wouldn’t surprise me. The system works fine for people who don’t use it much, and most of my coworkers don’t use it much.

The problem is probably fixable, and he offered some solutions. But let’s face it: It’s a little late now. Had the coverage been adequate–it didn’t have to be good, just adequate–then chances are I wouldn’t have gone looking. But now that I have looked, someone’s dangling good, proven health care coverage and the biggest raise I’ve ever gotten in my life in front of me.

Why wouldn’t I take that offer?

He said he wanted me to stay, and I believe it. The only way to do my job well is to do it poorly for a time until you know the ropes. Then you get good, then something beyond your control changes and you say hello to mediocrity for a while, and eventually, hopefully, you adjust and get good at it again. And during those low periods, the phone rings a lot. It’s a painful process for the person doing the work, and it’s a painful process for everyone else directly or indirectly involved.

When I signed on earlier this year, I wanted to stay until retirement. The company put on a good show during in-processing, and, theoretically at least, offers a lot of opportunities to continue and advance your career. Having worked for a couple of different places where layoffs and cutbacks were a yearly tradition, I was looking forward to working for a company that was winning a lot of new business and seemed to have its best days still ahead of it.

It didn’t work out that way. I leave knowing I’m probably giving up some future opportunities. I leave a familiar situation for something different and new. And from the company’s perspective, they lose an experienced veteran who gained the bulk of his training on another company’s dime, and who will potentially be very expensive, and almost certainly very painful to replace.

But hey, they saved having to pay out a couple thousand bucks or so in health care expenses.