ushered him out. “I’m confident they’ll endorse the next phase.”
As the door closed behind him, David leaned against the wall outside the conference room. The presentation had been more draining than he realized. Then he chuckled. The dating example had been contentious, but it was better to raise it and address it early than leave it as a lingering issue. He was sure the presentation had won them over. The language analysis he ran last night in ELOPe against his presentation predicted a ninety-three percent favorable response.
“Look Gary, you know as well as I do that it doesn’t make sense to optimize until after we’re done.”
While David was at the big presentation with the big wigs, Mike was stuck having to defend their resource utilization with Gary Mitchell. Mike wondered if David had somehow arranged the time of the meeting with Gary to conflict with the executive briefing just so that David wouldn’t have to go. Give him a thorny bug to fix, a new architecture to design, and he’d be happy. Give him a team of developers to motivate, and that would be just fine. But he hated playing organizational politics. David was definitely going to owe him one for this.
“Of course, we’ll only use a fraction of the number of servers after we optimize. However, we’re only going to optimize when the algorithm is done. If we start optimizing now, it’ll hurt our ability to improve the algorithm. This is basic computer science.” It was like talking to a wall, the words just bounced off.
“Mike, Mike, Mike.”
Mike rolled his eyes at Gary’s condescending tone, a safe maneuver since Gary couldn’t even be bothered to look at him. Mike studied Gary across the expansive desk. Gary leaned back in his car, arms stretched behind his head, white dress shirt stretched over his belly, jowls hanging down under his chin. He appeared to be studying the ceiling. Mike thought that Gary would be more at home as the VP at a place like General Motors. Only a big glass ashtray and cigar was missing. He wondered, not for the first time, how Gary had ended up at Avogadro.
“I know your project got special approval from Sean to use production servers. Servers that keep Avogadro’s day to day operations running, I might remind you.” Gary finally heaved himself upright and looked at Mike. He pointed a fat finger at Mike before going on. “You’re eating up so much damn memory and bandwidth on the AvoMail servers that I’ve had to bring in additional capacity. You think your project is mana from Heaven, but that’s what every R&D team thinks. Meanwhile, I gotta keep things running here, and your one measly experiment is making us run critically short of spare capacity.”
“Gary, we…”
Gary ran right over him. “Approval from Sean or not, I’m in charge of Communication Products, and I’ve got ultimate responsibility for ensuring absolutely zero downtime. I’m telling you that you’ve got two weeks to get your project resources down, or I’m bouncing you off our production servers.”
“Listen Gary, we can…” Mike started, but Gary interrupted him again.
“No more ‘Listen Gary’,” he shouted. “We’re done here. I’ve had this discussion with David repeatedly. You’ve got two weeks. You go tell David. Goodbye.” Gary shooed him out of the office with his hand like an errant cat.
Mike left Gary’s office, blew past Gary’s startled admin, and resisting the urge to slam doors, he walked back to the R&D building. He stalked down five floors, across a street and down a block, then up again, and finally through a maze of hallways in his own building, fuming with unspent anger.
As Mike walked, he relaxed again, one benefit of the sprawling site. Avogadro Corp had expanded so much that they now spanned seven city blocks in the Northwest part of Portland, on the site of an old trucking company. A dozen buildings, most new, a few old, and constant construction.
As the company and their profits had grown over the last fifteen years, they put up one new building after another, so fast that even the employees couldn’t keep track of who or what was where. Even Mike had seen three new buildings go up in his few years with the company.
It was an ongoing source of curiosity among the employees to discover what the different buildings contained. While most of the office complex was quite normal, there were some oddball discoveries, like the telescope observatory on top of one of the buildings that could only be opened by certain, apparently randomly chosen, employee access cards. There was a billiard room that apparently changed floors and buildings. Mike had seen that one himself. Whether the trick was managed by having an actual room that moved, or by facilities staff moving the contents of the room, or by duplicating the room, no one knew. Of course the engineers at Avogadro couldn’t resist a puzzle, so they had done everything from hiding wifi nodes to RF encoding the furniture, with random results that just puzzled everyone even more.
There was a half-serious belief among some of the employees that one of the executive team had a Winchester-house complex. Mike had visited the San Jose Winchester house once when he was in college. Built by Sarah Winchester, widow of the gun magnate William Winchester, she had the house under constant construction from 1884 to 1922, under the belief that she would die if the construction ever stopped. The thought that one of the Avogadro executives was plagued by a similar belief, and so was doing the same to the Avogadro campus always brought a smile to Mike’s face. On the whole, however, he thought that the oddball aspects of the site were more likely planned as a kind of game to entertain the engineers. It takes something extra to retain talent when you’re talking about a bunch of brilliant but easily bored geeks.
As he crossed the second floor bridge back to the R&D building, Mike stopped smiling when he thought about telling David about the conversation. He wasn’t going to be happy to hear Gary’s ultimatum.
Their recommendation algorithm, which sounded so simple when David explained it to a nontechnical person, depended on crunching vast quantities of data. Every email thread had to be analyzed and correlated with millions of other emails. Unlike movie recommendation algorithms, which could be analyzed and clustered using less than a hundred characteristics, it was orders of magnitude more complex to do the analysis on emails. It took them a thousand times more computation time, memory, and all important database access. Coming out of that meeting, there was no doubt that Gary had reached the limit of what he was going to allow their team to use.
Unfortunately, Mike had lied to Gary. Mike shrugged, uncomfortable with himself. When had it become necessary to lie in his job? He didn’t like it. The reality was that he, David and other members of the team had been working for months trying to make their algorithm more efficient. Sadly, the current server-consuming behemoth was the best that they could do. No matter what they did, there weren’t going to be any more efficiency gains. Therefore, there was simply no way to meet Gary’s ultimatum.
Nope, David was not going to be happy. Mike sighed. Unlike Mike, who usually took it all in stride, whether good or bad, David would get seriously upset.
A busy morning kept Mike hopping from one urgent issue to the next despite wanting desperately to talk to David. It wasn’t until hours later that Mike freed up. He ran into David’s office before anything else could interrupt either of them.
“Got a minute?” Mike asked in a cautious tone.
“Of course.”
Like his own office next door, David’s office had room for three or four guests, as long as everyone was friendly and had used deodorant. A big whiteboard for collaboration spanned the wall behind Mike, and north facing windows held a view of heavily wooded Forest Park. Mike was sure the six month old office setup was less effective for working together than last year’s setup when everyone on the team was located in one big open space, but Mike enjoyed the change. Besides, it would all be different again next year.
Mike recounted the meeting with Gary Mitchell, and saw David getting angry just listening to the story. “So then he kicked me out of his office without a chance to say anything else,” he concluded. “Besides, what else could I really say? You know there aren’t any efficiency improvements we can reasonably expect.”
David sat at his desk, fingers steepled, staring into his darkened monitor. He hadn’t moved or said anything for the last minute. Mike knew that was always a bad sign. Tux the penguin, the Linux mascot, wobbled over David’s monitor in the ventilation system breeze. Mike remembered when Christine had bought the penguin for David after one of their first dates.
“So two weeks. What do you want to do?” Mike prompted, after a minute of this painful silence.
“Let’s pare down the number of people we have working on fixes and algorithm improvements,” David finally said, clearly having reached some internal conclusion. “How many people can you put full-time on performance?”
“I’ll focus full time on it,” Mike volunteered, starting to count off on his fingers. “Certainly Melanie,” he added, referring to one of their senior software engineers. “Figure two or three other folks. Probably five in all. David,” he
