Post-project Depression? Maybe later...

Last week my main research project, which has taken a sizeable part of my working time (and my thinking time outside work) for seven years is officially out of research, and now it is just development. The product is mature enough, and the main customer (Michelin Tyres) as well as the secondary customer (Nokian Tyres) are satisfied with it as it is.

That was the 20th. I had planned to take a week of holidays, starting the 23, to really mark the point and to wallow, even if only briefly, in the project equivalent of post-coital depression.

After all, it has taken me six years, three R&D managers and countless arguments (mainly with the production manager). If all goes as planned the company will triple its output and more than triple its turnover (after the biggest expansion in the history of the company). Directly or indirectly some new 50 million green tyres will be made thanks to this development. That means, assuming a 4 year lifespan for the tyres, yearly fuel savings of one million two hundred thousand tons. Our own energy footprint (something many people forget when announcing carbon savings) is roughly one percent of that (and smaller than the carbon black we will be replacing).

Unfortunately I work for a small company. Very small. So small that for effective purposes I only have one level under me (lab technicians) and two over me (general manager and CEO). What that means is that when we started making our first full truckload, there is nobody I can delegate on to do my work (actually, there is one person at my same level, and we usually fill each other duties when necessary, but she has just had a precious baby girl, Celia, born the 6th of November, so she will be on leave till February). So, while we automatize the decision tree for the process and check several sensor alternatives to minimize human dependency, someone who knows how things should go has to be there. And the only other person who knows it should be writing his Ph. D. dissertation and a few research articles, so although he is willing to help, I am the one on call.

That should not have affected my holidays, as I had very deliberately scheduled the production run from the 21 to the 23 (it ended the 24, later than planned). However on Monday management had decided to repeat the run, to get more material so we could choose what we got in the truck, and to prepare a container for Finland. It has to arrive there on January, but the trip takes on average 22 days, and we are not sure when will it actually leave.

So here I am, exhausted, with some of the project wrapping glow still left, though fading quickly, and staying till late fighting reluctant pumps, headstrong valves and moody driers. Not to mention a production personnel that hate this material (too sensitive and "high tech") and what it means as future workload for next year.

Then the small catastrophes pile up. The filters that do not filter so well, so we may have lost 2 tons of material down the drain. Or the hundreds of kilograms spewed by the faulty chimney filter... Or a defective batch, victim of over eager new personnel and unconcerned veterans.

Next week it will be technical discussions with shoe sole customers, which means good food and little rest. The following one, a trip to Italy to discuss tyres with Pirelli, more of the same... No time to seriously unwind, except in small, hot bath doses, or short strong drink draughts before going to sleep.

It may be crass and materialistic, but I am really looking forward to the end of the year bonus. That will be both pleasurable and depressive (we will be unable to get such a big project going for years, so this may be my biggest bonus ever) at the same time, just at the best time of the year for joy and despair. Christmas.  ¶ 3:50 PM

  Guns

Last week a young man in Finland killed eight people, after putting up a video on Youtube announcing his plans. Maybe it was because I was in Finland when it happened, or how shocked my Finnish hosts were, but I could see how a lot of intelligent people tried to explain such a random occurrence. My impressions come from the people I was interacting with, rather than the media, politicians or a balanced slice of Finninsh society. They were mostly well off profesionals, with a technical bent, from a middle class, well educated background. They all live in Tampere, the second biggest city in the country and the heartlands of the whole Nokia spirit (the meetings were at the town of Nokia). All but one of them had children, and a few had kids of the same age as the killer.

They all blamed a broad thread of Internet, American TV and movies and videogames as the usual suspects. His upbringing was only very slightly questioned, with more people worrying about how badly the killer’s family would have it rather than what did they do that brought up this circumstance. His depression was mentioned, as well as the general feeling that it should have been spotted, either by his medic or his teachers (what about his family, I wonder?).

None of them questioned how a troubled youth had access to a gun, mostly because guns are an integral part of the Finnish way of life. Half the households, roughly, have some guns, whether a remnant of the Winter War spirit, the strong militia commitment, or the plentiful hunting culture. When I mentioned it, they did not think weapons could be blamed, because they had had weapons “forever” and yet nothing like this used to happen. An understandable feeling, but precisely what they are blaming are the main agents for social change in their culture, even if indirectly. The shift from a rural culture to an urban one, with 25% of the country population concentrated in the Helsinki area, as both the comforts and the economics favor cities over small towns. The keeping of some of those rural traditions in inappropiate suburban environments (such as buying a gun for “signaling” in a densely (for Finland) populated area, which is still a valid justification for gun acquisition). The killer bought a .22LR handgun just by joining a shooting club one month before the killings (estimated to be when he started skipping his medication) and then going shopping with his club card. Not the deadliest of weapons, but good enough for his purposes. Gun purchase is allowed to 15 year old and older people, with just that kind of justification. The decision is made by the local constabulary, which is a good idea when you are in a town where everyone knows each other, but fails when population increases and suddenly there are thousands of people within the decision area for a policeman.

The previous paragraph could apply to many parts of the United States of America years ago, including the militia, the hunting, the transition from rural to urban life, the guns. Yet there is a difference. Finland, after some soul seeking, and also my acquaintances there, has changed its minds in this week of shock and sorrow. And as they are probably the best masters in quickly adjusting to changes in their environment, whether political (exploiting their position as “gate to Russia”), technological (mobile phones or the internet) or economic, as can be seen in the high level of living in a not so rich country.

The gun ownership regulations will be seriously limited, and put in line with the general European level of firearm control. In a country with the extremely low crime rate of Finland, that means people will keep their gunts, they just will be more controlled, and young people will no longer be able to get a gun without knowledge of their family. What was more significant, those people who the day after were more concerned about Youtube than licenses, now do no longer blame the internet, and focus on how to track guns and who owns them.

It has taken an incident and nine deaths to change many years of teen gun ownership. I fear the USA lost that train a century ago.  ¶ 8:03 PM

  Random words

While sweating some excess beer, alone and lonely in a hotel room, close to Tampere, thinking of Finnish women while listening to Ute Lemper, Ute made me think of Wraith, Will, the lost Prince. But that is a dangerous trip, full of lost friendships, forsaken acquaintances, betrayed secrets and heartburn, so I quickly switch tracks.

Both Pakistan and the recent shootout in Finland takes me back to the States, and that fits Moby insinuating himself in my headphones. However that is such a big and shallow subject that I quickly leave the States alone.

Finnish language reminds me of Japanese. Crisp consonants, neat vowels, surprising directness. Total lack of understanding, which is possibly the main reason for the similarity, after being used to getting at least a word in ten in most places I go. Words, now that is a safe subject close to my heart. I have been playing interpreter/translator, as my boss does not speak any foreign language. The urge to play in my benefit is strong, but somehow truth tends to come out, and anyway, translating takes up as much mind capacity that I just would not be able to lie convincingly. It is Diana Krall's turn on the wheel, tempting, cajoling...

It's long ago and far away, she sings. That could mean so much and so little. Maybe it is the loneliness rather than being alone what brings some of those memories back, from that departed land. Or it is easier from those far away mistakes, as those closer by can still be revisited, and they hurt rather than just itch pleasantly, a reminder that there is life in the old trunk yet. But tonight I am avoiding scabs to return to old scars and their embellished memories, those consoling stories that nobody is going to dispute now. Those pillars that hold no weight but look nice, if only to our own eyes.

History as written by the survivors, as there are no winners in this tales. I end up with Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah, as good a reminder as any that the ending is predetermined, and it is the path we choose what makes us what we are.  ¶ 11:35 PM

  Armchair General

Last week I took part in an Ancients wargames tournament. I may sound bitter about it. I may actually be a little bitter. But without losing a game, and ending all games in a winning position, I just ended third (because I did not play the final game, letting the place to one of those I had beaten).

My fault? Not being decisive enough. Avoiding risks. Some of my opponents may disagree but I managed that difficult military feat, the key according to Sun Tzu, seize the initiative and hold it. If there had been no time limit (three and a half hours), all would have been decisive victories. I do not want to deny that the fault is mine, as I knew there was a time limit and could see how the result was still unresolved as time passed by.

Of course, when you are disadvantaged, most players will play defensively and wait for the opponent to make a mistake. So that initial advantage became my problem, as I had to keep pressing, rather than a slow methodical build up.

It is, possibly, a character fault for this kind of competitions, a lack of aggresiveness, a distaste for gambles and a certain aversion to putting my troops at risk. Which is bad when your soldiers are made of lead, though it is still a debatable matter in actual war.

My army's nature has also something to say in this matter. The Burgundian Ordonnance is a flexible mercenary (drilled) army, small, hard hitting and very controllable, with few weak points besides its size (elephants, which were actually plentiful in the tournament, are one of those), so unless the enemy is very aggresive he will have troubles coming up with an evident plan. So once again the enemy started on a defensive stance.

To make matters worse, my own perfectionist/obsessive streak played against me. I made few mistakes, but I spent time I did not have moving and pondering what all my units should do, when half of them would have been enough and those three hours are not so much actual movement.

The final concern, and one that I hope I can train myself out of, by attending more tournaments, is that I am too polite. I just cannot crush someone without giving them some time, letting them the opportunity to do something about it.

Then I think about those old soldiers, the kind that are glad when a battle does not take place, who prefer the enemy to surrender rather than to massacre them. And how in many military simulations and wargames, even if they are more serious and detailed than ours, there is as well a time limit, and usually the winner once again is the one that kills more enemies, rather than the one who achieves the objectives losing less troops.

The rush of modern life, taken to the military results. The idea that a good result now beats a great result tomorrow, taken to the utmost.

Because it is not time what we are losing in this, nor small pieces of lead, but human leaves.

Mostly at the same time I decided that two of my youth interests, military life and medicine, were not what I wanted to dedicate my life to. Medicine because I already have trouble being responsible for myself, even less for others. The army because of the same reason, and because I do not want to relinquish that little responsibility I have for myself to somebody else.  ¶ 9:35 PM