I had spent 29 years at Microsoft before they finally laid me off. I spent that entire time in the Operating Systems division. I wish I could try to describe the sheer enormity of a project like this, but I can’t. We had too many moving parts; I doubt anyone understood everything. We built our product from source code at a particular snapshot in time. To put it in perspective, hundreds of engineers may make changes within seconds of each other, and it all had to work.
Some of these engineers had the unenviable task of coordinating these changes from different places. We called this process reverse integration. The best way to describe it is like air traffic control for software changes. They took a snapshot at a specific time, created a distinct version of our product, and then we ran a battery of tests. If the tests passed, they allowed those changes through.
I’m grossly oversimplifying this process. This reverse integration process happened each week for dozens of branches; each day of the week meant that particular teams were on the hook to get their payload through. Another mindbender? This is a multi-layered problem. This entire process described above delivers your code changes from Point B to Point A. We needed to do the same thing to get changes from Point C to Point B. We typically did our work in L3 branches, which meant that we normally worked three layers removed from the main branch.
The hazards of coordinating engineering work
I’ve mentioned this to others outside engineering (or programming). The very nature of engineering is to do something that hasn’t been done before. If you have deep experience, like decades of doing similar things, then you may be able to accurately predict how long something will take and how much work it’ll be. However, we never know what problems will arise. Asking someone when something will be finished is never definitive.
Now, imagine a team (B Team) needs a feature that another team (A Team) is currently working on. The B Team is waiting for one of those code changes (among hundreds) to deliver something that they need. This is a bit like a relay race: you pass the baton so someone else can finish the race.
Let’s imagine what this coordination may look like between members of each team: John for A Team and Taylor for B Team.
Taylor: We’d like to finish our feature by November; we’d need to integrate with your component. That should only take around one week.
John: We’re tracking okay, but one of our programmers had to go on jury duty, so we may need to shuffle some things around.
Taylor: We’d still like to get our work finished by November; when do you think you’ll have your part of the work finished?
This conversation sounds pretty reasonable, right? Taylor advocated for their team and innocently asked when they could expect that work to be done.
The nuance to that conversation
Many years ago, I had a charged conversation with a loved one. She asserted that society evaluates women by different standards than men. I worked at Microsoft at the time and didn’t think this was true. Did I think she was imagining it? I honestly believed she reached that conclusion in one of two ways. First, her workplace must be especially hostile to women. This is plausible; there are always a few bad eggs. Second, she may be overreacting; we all have our sensitivities, right?
However, this conversation piqued my interest. This can’t generally be true, right? I mean… it can’t possibly be true that high-achieving women receive negative feedback at 3800% the rate of high-achieving men, except that it is generally true.
About 76% of top-performing working women received negative feedback from their bosses compared to just 2% of high-achieving men (Fortune).
And here’s the clincher. Women are much more likely to be criticized for doing the same thing as men. Let’s reflect on that situation above with Taylor and the question:
“When do you think you’ll have your part of the work finished?”
If Taylor were a man, he would simply be doing this job. He’s an advocate for his team. If Taylor were a woman, she would be bossy and, dare I say, even ‘bitchy’. She’s drunk with power. Same situation. Same question. Different gender, different feedback.
While we may find even hearing about this profoundly sad, this is often the way it unfolds.
Admitting my biases
I went back and finished that conversation, and I had to eat crow. Yes, it is generally true that we hold women to a different (unfair) standard than men. The shame from my misjudgment gave me a newfound humility.
Consequently, I have told this very story about my misconceptions about workplace standards for women many times. I keep expecting someone to shame me for pushing back initially. That hasn’t happened once. Instead, I’ve been praised for having the initiative to look it up, and for owning that I was wrong about my assumptions. Those who so carefully listened to me tell the story were also generous with their grace. I’m so grateful.
I aspire to listen with an inquisitive ear and an open heart. If I should encounter a situation that sounds unfamiliar, I’ll endeavor to learn more. I do not know what it’s like to be a woman, or a black, dyslexic, colorblind, or left-handed person. However, I know that a symptom of dyslexia is transposing letters in words. I know that color-coding using only red and green alienates about 5% of men. Similarly, I’ll advise people to stock left-handed scissors and mice since around 10% of people are left-handed.
“You’re overreacting.”
I remember a large discussion about this very phrase. They asserted that uttering (or even thinking) this phrase may be the most common micro-aggression. On a very basic level, it means you have stopped listening. You’re in the middle of a conversation and concluded that the other person’s assessment of their situation is not as important as they make it out to be. You are, in fact, either:
- Casting doubt on their assessment of the situation.
- Minimizing how they feel about that situation.
And they’re both forms of microaggressions. I won’t tell you that this phrase never crosses my mind. It absolutely does. However, when I hear it now, it’s a warning sign that I’ve mentally started to shut down. It is strictly my failing. I’ll either pause or find some other way to continue the conversation.
I won’t tell you that the other person will always articulate their points effectively. However, conversations occur between two people, and you can do your part to bridge that gap.
To acknowledge the problems
A conservative friend once plainly stated that we have eradicated systemic racism; this was after the US had elected Obama for president. This is the same person who once referred to Michigan’s governor, Gretchen Whitmer, as “Gretchen Halfwit”. My response to that assertion was that studies, like the recent Veil of Darkness study, demonstrate that systemic racism still occurs. To that, I’ll make three observations.
First, to his credit, he didn’t dispute the findings, which spanned millions of observations. Oftentimes, I’ll get a defensive response to mentions of studies like these with hard numbers. Responses may question research bias, how the results were presented, the legitimacy of the data, or how it was collected. The idea that life isn’t precisely what you always imagined can be unsettling. This, in and of itself, doesn’t mean it’s not true.
Second, my friend admitted that this was a problem. He conceded that black people are disproportionately more likely, per capita, to be stopped by the police. How is this not a form of systemic racism? However, I did not loop the conversation back into making the case for systemic racism. I’ll be completely honest. It surprised me that he didn’t challenge any of the studies I mentioned.
Finally, he conceded that this is wrong and that black motorists are disproportionately stopped more frequently than white motorists. This is great. He admits this is wrong; it stands to reason that we should correct it. Here’s the interesting question: If we all agree this instance of systemic racism is something we should correct, then shouldn’t we also collectively agree to speak up and try to fix it?
Well, I can tell you that friend hasn’t spoken up about this particular form of systemic racism… even when he knows that it’s wrong.
Empathy and passivity
Let’s say that as you read this post, you accept that workplaces judge women by different standards than men. Similarly, you understand that police officers generally pull over black motorists at a significantly higher rate than white motorists. You find the numbers and the evidence compelling. You find these facts both unfair and unsettling.
What are you doing to change it? I’ll absolutely shame you if your answer is “nothing”. That woman criticized in their review for asking about a due date? She may be your mother, wife, or daughter. She may be you. Your basketball buddy may be the next George Floyd or Trayvon Martin. Once you realize that systemic racism, misogyny, and homophobia exist, how do you willfully bury your head in the sand and ignore it?
Empathy is not a spectator sport. You don’t need to write a blog as I do. You don’t need to confront loved ones as I do. However, I do encourage you to find your voice. These injustices will gnaw at you, and you need to find a way to resolve them. It may mean you establish boundaries; you are allowed to set boundaries in your life. You may refuse to use sexist terms or even acknowledge them. You may stop joking with your basketball buddy about how frequently he’s pulled over.
You don’t need to rid the world of garbage. Just keep your yard clean. Inspire others to keep their yards clean. If everyone did, the world would be a much cleaner place.
Even if you’re not the one perpetrating these acts, choosing passivity amounts to complicity. I’ll ask you to channel Brené Brown. Today, choose courage over comfort. Be the person in the arena, not the one casting judgment from the cheap seats. Be brave with your life.