Posts from July 13, 2006

Look at this gentlemans very amusing profile on LinkedIn.

Look at his modest, self-deprecating description - 'I hate it when our friends become successful'. Such a refreshing change from some of the pretentiousness you usually find.

This is the title of one of my favourite Morrissey songs. If only space had permitted the author to add 'especially when they're Northern'.

Now look at his employment record and the impressive list of high powered job roles he has fulfilled for major blue chips in an exciting and varied career spanning over 20 years in IT:

• Junior Programmer (AmberPoint)
• Dogsbody (Kenamea)
• Ringleader (Sun)
• Plumber (Forte)
• Fitter (Sybase)
• Jack of All Trades (Ingres)

Now take a look at the same gentleman's blog and profile picture. At last, you have encountered an American with a sense of humour.

Until you realise he's another music and football loving Brit who crossed the water.

Many years ago, my horrid manager refused me a wonderful opportunity to go on an all expenses paid training course all about data warehousing in some exotic location.

I was moaning about this to a colleague over lunch. She was an ex-teacher and happened to work in the prestigious data warehousing consultancy group. 'There, there Norman. Don't cry. Tell me exactly what you wanted to learn from this course ?'

'Well Sue, I just feel so stupid. I don't even know what a fact table is, or a slowly moving dimension let alone a star schema - all that fancy data warehousing terminology'.

'Shut up and listen. You buy a sandwich in Tesco. The sandwich costs 2.55 GBP. You have a table called TRANSACTION with a column called PRICE. There are other tables called PRODUCT, REGION, STORE, DATE and CAMPAIGN. There are a load of foreign keys from the fact table to the dimensions and the data model is highly normalised.'

'The TRANSACTION table is a fact table because it records a fact - an event that actually happened. Fact tables tend to be large. Just think of all those massive queues for all the the checkouts at all the Tesco stores.'

The other tables are called dimensions - these tables tend to be smaller and describe elements of the business and allow managers to report on sales by product/region/store/campaign/month/year/quarter.

'Oh I see but what about a star schema ?'

'Draw a picture with the fact table in the middle and the dimension tables around the edges. Connect the tables together. What do you see ?'

'Oh I see. A pretty star. OK then. What about a snowflake ?'

'Draw 7 stars and join them up. What do you see ?'

'Oh I see. A lovely snowflake. Thanks a lot, Sue. That really has been very useful.'

'No problem. Data warehousing isn't actually that hard.'

'Now what is the Pareto Principle ?'

Unfortunately, my helpful teacher suddenly remembered she had an urgent meeting to go to and the '30 second Guide to CRM' was postponed.

Prizegiving ceremonies at school are a similar experience when you are a parent as when you were a child.

The event seems to last a long time. The tedium is punctuated by the odd, brief moment of excitement when little Norma (or someone loosely known to you) walks up to receive her book token.

Your mind starts to wander asking such important questions as: 'What exactly did Christine Baverstock-Davis do to merit the award of "Outstanding effort in 'resistant materials" ?'. Did she spend countless hours after school bashing iron, steel and rocks with hammers, mallets and pickaxes ?' You start to wonder why your wife neglected to attend this years 3 hour marathon in stifling heat. Must remind her that it's her turn next year.

Of course, as a parent, you feel immensely proud when your child steps up for their book tokens on three separate occasions (Exceptional Student, Effort in Food Technology and Surrey Schools Trampolining). In fact, you are so proud, you nudge your two immediate neighbours urging them to clap a little bit louder.

You furtively reach for those humorous red and white inflatable hands with England flags on and raise them aloft. As your offspring is carefully marshalled back though the aisles by a prefect to their assigned seat, they look absolutely mortified, go beetroot red and whisper 'Dad - put those down - NOW'.

Two hours later, just as the keynote speaker (first ever Head Girl from 1964) nervously steps up for the main speech, there is a kerfuffle outside as some ruffian runs past the open double-doors singing 'Ole - Ole - Ole - Ole. Eng-LAND. Eng-LAND'. You smile to yourself as six teachers simultaneously arise from their seats and run menacingly (while skilfully appearing to be walking fast) to identify and silence the culprit (using force).

You decide to seek the individual out later, give him a lift to hospital and reward him with the inflatable England gloves.

After the event, you are once again immensely proud when your child tells you:

'Dad - when Alistair Barnstormworth did that stupid singing outside, I started to laugh. When I looked round. you were the only mum or dad in the whole hall of 700 people who was also laughing.'

Occasionally, I have had the odd dig at the parochial, inward looking nature of the US TV and printed media.

However, last week, the UK media commemorated the first anniversary of the July bombings in London with endless pages of words and pictures together with and hours of footage, analysis, interviews, documentaries and coverage of yet another two minute silence.

Since August 1997, a nation that was once renown for a 'stiff upper lip' and dignity has somehow been transformed into 60 million professional grievers and bereavement counsellors.

This week, four times as many people lose their lives in Mumbai in a set of horrendous train bombings by terrorists. Curiously enough, this story is buried on page 13 after important updates on corrupt politicians, corrupt businessman and corrupt footballers.

I presume all the people affected by this tragedy in India also have mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons and daughters, so put down your paper, turn the radio off and spare a thought for them. May all the victims rest in peace.