Ten Years at Redgate

Congratulations to my friend, Steve Jones, for ten years at Redgate!

Voice of the DBA

This year was my 10th anniversary of working for Redgate. The actual date was a bit ago, but they held off my celebration until I came over. These are nice at Redgate, better than at some companies where I’ve seen someone in management just give a mention during a company meeting and a token gift. At Redgate we get a really nice gift, which was a Garmin Forerunner 645 for me.

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At Redgate, the CEO comes around and does a 5-10 minute speech on the person, with some of his thoughts and memories, and also shares some stories that others in the company have sent in. There is usually a few embarrassing notes, and in my case, I got this picture, which is likely one that everyone thought would generate the most red from me. It didn’t, though I don’t think there are any really embarrassing pictures or video for…

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Reflections, setbacks, and accomplishments

“Here’s to the new year.  May she be a damn sight better than the old one, and may we all be home before she’s over.”
— Col. Sherman T. Potter

“We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we’re curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths.”
— Walt Disney

“All I want from tomorrow is to get it better than today…”
— Bruce Hornsby (or Huey Lewis, depending on which version you prefer…)

It is the week between Christmas and New Year’s.  I have the week off from work as I write this, which gives me plenty of time to think.  Okay, granted, I haven’t been doing a lot of thinking — or very much else, for that matter — during this past week.  Everyone, after all, needs to take some time to rest and relax.  So, I’ll be the first to confess that, while I should probably take advantage of the week to take care of tasks I can’t normally do because of work, a good chunk of it has been spent watching TV, especially old movies, college football, and college basketball.

Nevertheless, now that 2017 is coming to a close, I did take a few moments — well, at least long enough to write this article, anyway — to look upon this past year, and to think about what’s ahead.  Among other things: I celebrated a milestone birthday back in January (hey, I made it to another one!), I lost one job and picked up another (better one!) in a short amount of time, I’m being recognized for accomplishments in my new job, I spoke at four more SQL Saturdays (including a couple of new presentations), I’ve made new friends, I’ve gotten better at CrossFit (among my CrossFit accomplishments, I successfully completed this year’s Holiday Rowing Challenge), and (if you count this article), I’ve written thirty-five ‘blog articles this year.  (That’s almost three a month, for those of you who are keeping count.)

Of course, life is about yin and yang; for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.  I’d be lying if I said this year was all wine and roses; I’ve had my share of setbacks as well.  Nobody enjoys setbacks; they can be painful and embarrassing.  But they’re important as well.  You can’t have good without bad, happiness without sadness, joy without pain.  But setbacks also serve a purpose: they remind us that we are not perfect (hey, nobody’s perfect, and since I’m nobody…!) and that no matter how well we perform, there is always room for improvement.

So now that 2018 is around the corner, keep moving ahead.  Make it better than 2017!

Happy (insert name of your favorite holiday)

There’s a meme that goes around Facebook, usually around the holiday season.  I’ve commented on this on Facebook before, but I thought it was worthwhile to put this into a ‘blog article.

The meme appears in many different ways, but the gist of it goes something like this: “If you’re Christian, feel free to wish me Merry Christmas.  If you’re Jewish, feel free to wish me Happy Chanukah.  If you’re African-American, feel free to wish me Joyous Kwanzaa.  If you’re something else, feel free to wish me holiday greetings in whatever your beliefs or culture allow, or simply wish me Happy Holidays.  I won’t be offended.  I’ll be happy that you took the time to say something nice to me.”

I agree with the sentiment 100%, but I also want to take it a step further.

We are a multicultural world, with many points of view, religions, beliefs, and mores.  What might be strange to one culture might be everyday life in another.  Many of us enjoy traveling to exotic countries and cultures, mostly to experience other worlds that aren’t our own.  As foreign travelers, we want to know what it’s like to be part of that culture.  Visitors to Hawai’i, for example, want to receive leis, eat poi and poke, wear Hawaiian shirts, and learn to play the ukulele.  (By the way, one thing I learned from my Hawai’i trip several years ago is that the correct pronunciation is OO-ku-lay-lay, not YOU-ku-lay-lay.)  I think this is a good and healthy thing; it allows us to understand, experience, and appreciate what it’s like to be part of something that is not our own.  This, in turn, enhances our knowledge and understanding of each other.  And when we’re accepted into the culture, it makes us feel pretty good.

I regularly say, “feel free to wish me a Happy (whatever your preferred holiday is).  Not only will I not be offended, I will actually be flattered that you think enough of me to wish me well from the standpoint of your culture, religion, more, or belief.”

I’ve had deeply religious people tell me they’d “pray for me” (and I do NOT mean in a spiteful or sarcastic way) or ask me if “I would pray with them.”  Granted, I am not a religious person; although I do attend church, I consider myself more spiritual than religious.  But when I get asked this, I have absolutely no problem with it (in fact, I’ll join them more often than not).  Even though my beliefs are not necessarily the same as theirs, being invited to join them makes me feel pretty good.  And taking part acknowledges that I respect their belief.

So if you happen to see me around the holidays, feel free to wish me a Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Joyous Kwanzaa, Happy Diwali, Ramadan Kareem, Peace to You, Live Long and Prosper, Happy Holidays, or whatever you prefer.  I will thank you for it!  After all, sending happy greetings and best wishes to another person is what it’s all about, regardless of what you believe.

Throwing out memories

Yesterday, I got into a conversation with someone about getting rid of stuff.  (I have no idea how we got into that conversation.)  I told her that I was a self-admitted pack rat, and (like many other people, I’m sure) I had a tough time with getting rid of things.  How many of you have tried to clean out your closet, your attic, or your basement, come across an item, and have said either “oh that holds fond memories” or “I might need that later”?  I’d bet that if I asked that question in a crowded room, almost every hand would be raised.

She said something profound: “Everything has a story.  When I get rid of something, if, say, I’m giving something away, I’ll tell that person the story behind it.  For example, let’s say I’m getting rid of a dress.  I’ll say, ‘oh, I wore that dress for a friend’s wedding,’ or whatever the story is behind it.  Once I tell the story, I can let it go.”

She gave me some advice: “If you’re getting rid of something, tell someone about it — even if all you do is write it down somewhere.  Even if no one ever reads it, at least the memory is preserved.”

It’s hard to let go.  We place a lot of value in things, whether they’re people, relationships, or inanimate objects.  If something is valuable to you, you gain an attachment to it.  The stronger the attachment, the more difficult it is to let it go.

So the next time you’re getting rid of stuff, tell someone about it — even if you just write it down.  You might find it easier to part ways.

The power of positive thought

I know what you’re thinking.  “Here we go again with another article espousing the power of positive thought.  Just what I need.”

But here’s the funny thing: it’s true.  I know this because I’ve experienced it.

For me, the eye-opener happened years ago when I took a Dale Carnegie course.  We did a demonstration where I stood up and held my arm out while the trainer tried to push down on it.  But here was the caveat: he did this exercise twice.  The first time, he told me to say aloud, “I am weak and worthless.”  He told me to say it and believe it.  And he also told me to fight him as he pressed down on my arm.  I fought him as best I could, but he pressed my arm down fairly easily.

The second time, he told me to say — and believe — the words, “I am strong and worthy” (or something like that — it’s been years, so I don’t remember the exact words).  He repeated the exercise.  This time, I was able to keep my arm straight and stiff.

I sure became a believer that day.

Examples of this abound everywhere, especially in CrossFit.  I wrote in a previous article that, at best, I could only stick with a fitness program for a few months.  I’ve been going to CrossFit for almost two and a half years (28 months as of this article, to be exact, and counting).  The primary reason why I’ve stuck with it is the support system.  CrossFitters want you to succeed.  They continually push you to be better.  I remember watching the CrossFit games where the announcer said, “CrossFit is probably the only sport where the person who comes in last gets the loudest cheers.”  I have made a number of friends through CrossFit, and I absolutely love the community.

During my junior year in college, I was struggling with something — I don’t remember what it was — and a classmate sent me his favorite poem, hoping it would pick me up.  It did.  It has since become one of my favorite poems as well.  I have a small plaque with this poem hanging on the wall of my home office.  I’ll look at it occasionally, whenever I feel the need.

Yeah, I realize “anti” or “uninspirational” quotes or memes are amusing, and I will admit that I do my fair share of dishing them out.  But whenever I feel like I’m coming out on the losing end of something, I’ll try to put a positive spin on it.  Don’t let negativity suck you into a black hole.  As the poem says, “it’s when things seem worst that you must not quit.”

Memories of 9/11

(Photo image courtesy of Wikipedia)

I still remember the morning of September 11, 2001 (15 years ago today) like it was yesterday.  It was an ordinary Tuesday morning.  At the time, I lived in a townhouse in Clifton Park, about 15 miles north of Albany.  I got up, showered, got dressed, kissed my then-girlfriend (now wife) good day, stopped at the local convenience store to pick up the day’s New York Times, and drove to work.

My company had an office in the World Trade Center.  Although I was based out of the Albany, NY office, I regularly made business trips to the World Trade Center roughly about once every couple of months; in fact, I had been in the World Trade Center only a couple of weeks earlier.  I had been down there often enough to become well-acquainted with the area; I knew the hotels (including a Marriott right between the two towers) where I regularly stayed on business, I knew some of the restaurants in the area, I’d become familiar with the subway lines that went in and out of the area, and I’d become accustomed to taking walks in Battery Park.  While I am a lifelong upstate New Yorker and not an actual resident of New York City, I’d been to the City often enough that, to me, it felt like a second home.

Likewise, I knew the thirtieth floor of Tower 1 — where one of our offices was located — very well.  One of our large data centers, a server room (in which I spent a lot of time when I was there), was on that floor.  I made sure our server room maps and information were up-to-date.  I had come up with a map grid system (identical to the letter-number grid combinations that you’d find on road maps) to identify and label server racks.  Whenever we added a new server rack, I’d create a label for it, record the servers within the rack, and make sure it was updated on the map.  Years later, I would eventually come up with an online system, including a SQL Server database back-end, that automated most of the data that I gathered from my regular server surveys, but in those days before automation, I had to do the work manually.  No matter.  I enjoyed working in the World Trade Center, and I always looked forward to my excursions down to the southern tip of Manhattan.  Those trips always made the mundane work worthwhile.

At first, there was nothing out of the ordinary (from my perspective, anyway) when I arrived at the office in Albany and went upstairs to my desk.  Someone told me that a plane had hit the World Trade Center.  I didn’t think anything of it at first.  My first thought was that a small single-engine Cessna had hit one of the towers.  How tragic, I thought, and I told myself to check the web for any news about it later that morning.  I dropped off my briefcase and my newspaper at my desk — again, another normal, typical morning for me — went downstairs to the cafeteria to get myself some coffee and some breakfast, and went back upstairs to my desk.

At this point, the office was abuzz.  I checked a few news websites for information.  That’s when I discovered that the plane that had hit wasn’t a small private plane; it was a Boeing 767.

I called my house immediately.  I told my girlfriend, “turn on the TV right now!”

That’s the last of what I remember clearly from that day.  The rest of the day is a blur.  While my memory of the events from that point forward is hazy, this is what I remember.

No work was done for the rest of that day.

I made my way over to the help desk area where a TV was broadcasting the news.  Other than the news broadcast, the entire area was deathly silent.  I remember one girl on the help desk was sobbing.

My manager had gone down to the City that day; he was there every week.  I remember his wife calling me.  She was understandably in hysterics.  I told her that I had not heard anything from him (the lines were all jammed from the amount of cell traffic, so no calls were getting through), and I promised that I would give her a call once I’d heard any news.

(I did see my manager later that evening; he told me that as he approached the office, a crowd was heading in the other direction.  He was there to see the towers fall.)

I remember Dan Rather broadcasting the events.  I remember the stunned silence as we all watched the towers fall.

I had heard stories from my friends and co-workers who worked in the World Trade Center.  One person was downstairs getting breakfast.  He had only moments earlier gotten out of the elevator — when flames shot out of the elevator.  Another person ignored announcements to stay where they were, and escaped down the stairwell — a decision that likely saved his life.

The next few weeks were hectic.  Our department (we were responsible for supporting the company’s server infrastructure), including employees from New York City, Harrisburg, Syracuse, and Middletown, convened in the Albany office to come up with a recovery plan.  We started with rebuilding critical domain controller servers and went from there.

All that time that I had spent in the World Trade Center documenting the servers proved to be crucial.  Based on the data we had, we were able to recreate the servers we had lost and rebuilt the infrastructure.  We obtained backup data from offsite storage — proving the value of backing up your critical data and storing it offsite — and recovered much of the data stored on the lost servers.  We worked thirteen straight days around the clock, working in shifts.  A server engineer would rebuild a server; if it wasn’t finished by the end of his or her shift, another engineer coming on-shift picked up where the previous person left off.

Everyone wanted to do their part.  I remember one of our colleagues was away on vacation when the planes hit; he was unable to return immediately because all flights were grounded.  He eventually was able to make it back to contribute to the cause.  Even my own manager had to tell me to go home and get some sleep.  He knew I wanted to do my part, but he also knew that it was important for us to get our rest so we could contribute.

I was willing to give up my extracurricular activities to help out.  I was going to skip band practice to help rebuild.  No, I was told.  If you skip things like that, the terrorists win.  Stick to your normal routine.  It’s important that we maintain morale and keep our spirits up.  We were all encouraged to work and to rest when we had to.  Employees from out-of-town were encouraged to take trips home to spend time with their families, then return to Albany to continue with the work (we set up a schedule so that everyone could do so).  Any sense of normalcy and efforts to boost morale were evident.  The company even served us breakfast during those two weeks; I remember eating a lot of pancakes, eggs, sausage, and bacon when I got into the office each morning.

After two weeks, we had rebuilt enough of the server infrastructure that we were able to maintain our business.  We weren’t at 100%, but it was enough to keep it going.

It wasn’t until later that we discovered the aftermath in regards to our company.  We lost nine employees.  Among our lost employees were a man confined to a wheelchair and his friend who wouldn’t leave his side.  Every year, on September 11, I still think about those nine co-workers that I lost.  I didn’t really know them.  (Regarding the man in the wheelchair and his friend: I vaguely remember exchanging a couple of emails with them, and I think I spoke to one of them on the phone a couple of times, but I did not know them that well.)  Nevertheless, I still consider them as I would friends or family members that I lost.

Fifteen years have passed since that fateful day.  It is important for us to remember.  We can and must always remember the lessons of 9/11.  However, it is also important for us to continue with our lives.  Not moving on would be a great disservice to everyone who lost their lives on that tragic day.

Life goes on.

How do you want to be remembered?

Have you ever thought about your own obituary?  (I apologize for the morbid thought.)  Dying is something we’re all going to do someday.  When that day arrives, what kind of a legacy do you want to leave behind?

This week, I had the misfortune of attending two different wakes for two different people.  Interestingly, I did not know either person well; in one case, I was friends with the deceased’s sister, and in the other, the deceased and I had mutual friends.  In both cases, despite not knowing the deceased that well, I felt compelled to go.  Mainly, I went to support my friends in their time of grief.  However, both people had compelling life stories that made me wish that I had known them better in life.

I don’t remember the exact wording of the quote, nor do I remember where I read it, but I remember reading something to the effect of “the way you measure the success of your life is by the number of people who show up for your funeral.”  Okay, granted, after I pass on, I won’t know how many people will show up at mine, but I’d like to think that a large number will show up.

(Side note: my favorite rock band is Kansas.  I’ve told people that I want “Dust In The Wind” performed at my funeral.)

Honestly, I don’t know how I’d want to be remembered (or at least, outside of this article, I’ve never really stopped to think about it).  I suppose I’d like to be remembered as someone who was a good person, someone who cared (sometimes too much), someone who gave it a shot, and someone who gave his all in whatever he did.  (There’s probably more to it than that, but it’s not something I feel like writing now, and to be honest, you probably don’t want to read about it.  I’d rather do my thing and let others be the judge of how I did.)

When it comes down to it, how you live your life and how you treat others will likely be your legacy.  So make the best of it.  As someone once said, live every day like it’ll be your last — someday, you’re going to be right.