Monthly Archives: April 2007

You can’t believe what you read in the news

You can’t believe what you read in the newsNarratives take such an odd variety of forms.

Some years ago I owned and ran a business, but since those days I have moved on professionally and domestically. This evening I was going through post that I had collected and I found a final demand from a provincial newspaper group for £1600 or so.

The last time I placed an ad in a provincial newspaper would have been over 12 years ago. Cute.

Then a couple of envelopes later I found a notice of Legal Proceedings saying that a court claim would be issued on a certain day a while ago. Ho hum.

I carried on opening my mail, and sure enough, there was an envelope containing the original invoices for however many months before. And finally a credit note, dated almost two weeks after the claim was supposedly issued by the court.

No letter. No apology. No nothing. Just a credit note.

I am trying to remember how long an organisation is allowed to keep information about customers under the Data Protection Act. I am going to ring the provincial newspaper tomorrow and ask them very sweetly if they know. Since I am a nice person most of the time I’ll ring the accounts department not the news desk.

As an odd little coda, there are no individuals’ names on any of the documentation other than the first name of the sales person and the first name of the person who placed the order. Now I am sure that our credit control letters went out over our credit controllers name.

I don’t have the words…

I don’t have the words to comment on this:

“The intimate details of thousands of junior doctors are left wide open on the Internet.” The report showed a spreadsheet displaying the sexual orientation, religion, criminal records, addresses, of MTAS applicants, which was freely available for anyone to see, or for any search-engine or data-trawler to harvest for hours or even days. I felt sick to my stomach as I watched.

“We apologise to any applicants whose details have been improperly accessed. This URL was made available to a strictly limited number of people making checks as part of the employment process”
- Department of Health statement

YOU DON’T FUCKING DO IT LIKE THAT!

Just because you haven’t told many people the URL doesn’t make it safe. The naivete is mind-numbing. My mind is refusing to work when I try to think about the literally criminal incompetence of the IT technical staff involved. I like to hope that they were good techies over-ruled by evil managers. But however it happened, I am breathless with anger about this.

I would show the turd covered in glitter picture again, but this doesn’t include any glitter.

Downstream – Anzac Day, 1995

You are stuck there in my pastlike a fly in amber:
visible,
precious,
protected.
Dead.

The world changed when you left it seven years ago;
and with every day that passes
you are one day farther away from
the reaching fingertips of my remembering mind.

Like a train departing the station
or a river tumbling inevitably down hill,
I am leaving you behind
held fast by a point in time.

All I have to do is lead my life:
I work,
I eat,
I sleep;
and with every task,
with every mouthful,
with every dream
you are farther away from me.

And still I change.

I am no longer the person
who sat beside you as you died,
as you slipped gently into my past,
while I held your hand in mine
and wept
for a time.

9th March 2003

Mental Maps

I need to have a mental map of everything I have to do, in order to be able to get on and do things. Without one, I flounder around and lose track.

If I am going to get on with – say – cleaning the kitchen, I need to know that – yes – I have to clean the living room, but that can wait until tomorrow so long as I remove the dead mouse, and that although I’m going to paint the kitchen, it won’t be before the next free Saturday with dry weather.

All the things I have to do are neatly arranged in relation to each other and to calender dates and other events on my mental map, like squadrons of Spitfires at Bomber Command.

RAF Operations Room - WWII

Sometimes it’s a mind-map, sometimes it’s a project plan, sometimes its a flow-chart, sometimes it’s just a really well internalised list, but if I don’t have that map in one form or another things get forgotten and this has been happening more and more recently. What with having time off, studying, training courses and the like, my mental map has become very disturbed.

We discovered today that we had forgotten about a whole load of things-to-do from last month: the professional equivalent of finding green stuff in coffee mugs which had been put away in the cupboard and left for four weeks.

Through an accident of scheduling I have two completely clear days tomorrow and Thursday and so I have all the time and mental space I need to rebuild my map. Woo Hoo!

However, when I told my boss about this he looked concerned and issued a warning: “don’t forget that things can change”. He’s normally very trusting but he’s resisted my attempts to introduce mental order before. He seems afraid that structure will introduce inflexibility. I find this really interesting, because it is so different from how I think.

I’m going to put a pin in my map tomorrow to remind me to ask him how he keeps track of what he has to do.

Enron – a case of moral bankruptcy

Enron Logo - “The Crooked E”I’m currently reading a couple of books about Enron and fascinating they are too, if you like that sort of thing, which I do.

What happened with Enron then?

Very briefly: they borrowed from the future to make themselves look profitable in the present, but no-one can do that indefinitely. Astonishingly, for most of the time they were within the letter of the law. Remember, a company’s Annual Accounts are supposed to be an account or an explanation presented to the owners which explains what their officers and employees have been up to during the previous 12 months. However, by the late 1990s there were many different ways of accounting for any given set of facts.

Of course, after a while the actions they took were definitely outside the law. In some cases corporate officers defrauded Enron itself in a complex game of financial cups and peas, in others they defrauded Enron’s owners by lying to Wall Street, and a huge number of senior executives quietly jumped ship during Enron’s last year of trading cashing in tens or hundreds of millions of dollars worth of Enron stock in the process, walking and quacking like insider traders as they pocketed the cash and “retired”.

Reading the various books on the subject, it’s clear that most of those involved either had no sense of right or wrong or let it erode over time. The question always seems to have been “is it legal?” not “is it right?”. These were people who had ferocious intellects but who had no moral sense and no internal breaking systems. Some of them saw laws and lawmakers as opponents to outwit. Others among them didn’t take laws that personally – they just thought the law applied to other people.

Reading the books though, I find myself wondering how such seriously intelligent people could be so stupid. How could they think that they could operate the company on a giant Ponzi scheme forever?

They separated out economics from accounting, and separated cash from profit. The economic reality – the truth of the cashflow – was that they frequently cut unprofitable deals. You see, they booked all the future profits of a deal when it was struck regardless of when or whether the cash flowed in by using what is called “mark to market” accounting. Worse than this: executives were rewarded regardless of how profitable the deal turned out to be because they got their bonuses when the deal was signed.

As time went by, and a deal proved itself to be less profitable than they had said that it would be, Enron should have shown that as a loss. But they were immensely reluctant to do that, and of course the bonuses were long spent.

An example (please skip this bit if your eyes glaze over whenever you see numbers)

Let’s say they built a power-station at a cost of perhaps $1bn and that they struck a 20 year agreement to sell the power at a rate of £100m a year. By normal accounting methods, the power-station would show a cash income from year one, but would take 10 years to pay for itself. What Enron did was to show £1bn as profit in the first year, on the basis that this was how much profit they thought they’d make over the whole 20 years of the deal.

There are lots of problems with this, but here are two to start with:

It is much harder to show an increase in profits if you book all your profits in the first year. Using normal accounting rules, the power station would not clear its building costs until year 11, but from then on if you want to show $2bn profits, you only have to make $1.9bn because you’ve already got $100m coming in from the power station. But using mark-to-market accounting rules you are starting from zero every single year.

This effect is exacerbated if your power station does not in fact have an income of $100m every year. Say it only makes $75m. Then if you are using mark-to-market rules you should actually declare a loss on your your books of $25m every single year even when you’ve cleared your building costs and are actually in profit.

Ok, that was very technical thank you Aphra, but what makes it interesting?

The focus on the here and now, on the deal and not on its fulfilment, was the nub of Enron’s problems. But you cannot run a business not serve your customers, you cannot run a business and ignore the cash.

It seems simple doesn’t it? Simplistic even. And that’s what I find fascinating about Enron: how so many very clever people (and they were very clever – they came from Harvard and McKinsey and Arthur Andersen) how so many very clever people could be so incredibly stupid. If you have no cash income, you’ll have no business.

The second thing I find fascinating about Enron is how many people outside Enron happily pocketed the consultancy fees and commissions that Enron paid them to hold the cups and hide the peas in my previous metaphor. Enron asked the banks and other institutions to “invest” in “assets” which Enron would then “buy back”. That sounds like a securitised loan to me. Doesn’t it sound like a securitised loan to you? But Enron called it a sale, and booked the first half of the deal accordingly though I’ve no idea how they booked the second half. The banks and other investors were paid handsome fees for these transactions. Again, these are very bright boys indeed so it is no surprise that some of them worked out that the deals were not entirely as Enron was painting them, but as Kipling puts it “them that asks no questions isn’t told a lie”. There was money to be made.

The third thing that I find fascinating is how many of Enron’s corporate officers came from relatively humble backgrounds. Kenneth Lay (Enron’s long-term CEO) grew up on a mid-western farm. Rebecca Mark (who dashed around the world, riding on elephants, building power stations and running Enron International) was from the Midwest. Jeff Skilling (who was the inside guy to Lay’s outside guy and was briefly CEO) came from a blue-collar background in blue-collar towns. These were not decadent second- third- or fourth-generation American aristos, not Hiltons or Bushes or Kennedeys. The guys that ran Enron liked the part of the American Dream which gets very rich indeed, but ignored the part that learns all it needs to know at kindergarten.

The fourth thing I find fascinating is that every single person involved seemed to think that someone else was checking up on things. Enron blamed its auditors, Arthur Andersen, for letting them get away with it. Andersens blamed Enron’s financial officers for pushing the line too far. Wall Street was told that “Risk Assessment and Control” stopped risky deals from being cut. But the RAC employees claimed that they merely there to advised and could not veto. The fascinating thing is not that everyone blames everyone else, it is that everyone genuinely seems to think that they themselves were not in any way to blame.

And finally, and this is what really gets me, they were a bunch of fucking amateurs. Highly educated amateurs, admittedly, but none of them had actually run anything. Kenneth Lay’s CV comprised academia and a little bit of government work until he got given a company to run. He was a supreme politician and played good cop to Skilling’s bad cop. One cannot call Skilling an amateur: Harvard MBAs and McKinsey consultants are not amateurs, but he was a dangerously brilliant and lop-sided specialist who should never have taken on general management by becoming CEO of various subsidiaries and ultimately of Enron itself. Andrew Fastow, who became CFO, was not even an accountant: his background was financial instruments.

I think it’s the lack of self-awareness that fascinates me; and integrity is the sternest form of self-awareness. Were they venal or just un-reflecting? I don’t know.

So there you go. If you want a quick rattle through Enron’s last 200 days then read “The Anatomy of Greed” which was written by an outsider on the inside, an Enron employee who was kept in the dark and fed the same bullshit as everyone else. If you want to get down and dirty with the detail read “The Smartest Guys in the Room” which is fascinating and dispassionate especially where the authors’ shocked incredulity occasionally breaks through. If you want something online that’s more informative than Wikipedia go to Risk Glossary.

The second book is particularly thought-provoking, and I guess the thought it provokes the most is “just how unusual was Enron?”

The Wonderful World of Pod

iCatMy iPod’s changed my life.

I feel slightly embarrassed about this, because I am such a late adopter and I have been very snooty about them in the past.

But I love it. I love podcasts. They are like Radio 4 on steroids.

What a privilege to be able to spend the morning listening to highly entertaining lectures on the social, historical and religious context of Anglo Saxon literature. Not just any lectures. Lectures from Oxford University. It sure made tidying and cleaning my kitchen easier. (How come I have spent FIVE HOURS on it and it doesn’t look substantially different? How can that be?)

Instead of driving to and from work while listening to and immediately forgetting ephemera like Terry Wogan, or being alternatively depressed and angered by the Today Programme and PM, I listen to and immediately forget ephemera like Dan Carlin’s “Hardcore History”, The FT Digital Business and stuff from the Harvard Business Review and I am entertained by the Now Show, the Reduced Shakespeare Company and Russell Brand. My brain does get a bit slooshy at times and then I revert back to Sir Tel or to Radio 3 if I really don’t want any words at all.

Some podcasters are definitely better than others. Skepticality Magazine’s main female podcaster has an “oh, wow, like, cool!” attitude to science which suggests a lack of any critical thinking ability at all, though maybe its some form of subtle American irony that I fail to appreciate with my literal British mind.

You don’t realise how high the audio standards of the BBC actually are until you listen to interview after interview conducted down bad phone lines. The Harvard Business Review is particularly guilty of this while their interviewees all seem addicted to saying “That’s a GR-r-r-r-R-R-R-EAT question!” as if they are advertising Frosties.

But the thing that astonishes and delights me are the university lectures one can listen to: Princeton, Berkley, Stamford and Yale. Oxford, Bath, Glasgow. What an amazing privilege. And I’m barely scratching the surface.

Isn’t the future cool?

PS – I apologise for the cuteness of the photo but I didn’t have a 50p piece to hand and I did have a rather small cat. Surprisingly, he didn’t scratch me.

Four impossible things before breakfast

For reasons which escape me completely now, I undertook to provide four entries for the WI Show tomorrow.

I’m not usually nervous about, well, about anything very much, though I do get inarticulate around people who are either famous or powerful because fame and power always seems to be in slightly poor taste, and the prospect of global warming makes me fidget. However, this time I am nervous.

I’ve made some vanilla shortbread based partly on the Sainted Delia’s recipe and partly on the fact I had some vanilla sugar in the cupboard. It looks … adequate. It’s shortbread. It smells nice. But this is the WI for goodness’ sake! There are up to 4 marks for External Appearance (colour, shape, uniformity) another four for Internal Condition (depth of crust, texture, distribution of ingredients) and 12 for Flavour and Aroma. You drop a mark for every aspect of flavour which is missing. 8-9 is “average”. 5 is “not acceptable” and the notes warn sternly that “if it is not acceptable, the exhibit will NOT be marked”. So now you know.

I over-reached myself with the mask, and it is – if I say so myself – extremely disappointing. I wanted this sexy-dangerous thing in dark green velvet, but it just looks like the green man’s come out of the closet. It’s an entry, but one cannot say more than that.

I’ve only ever taken one action photo in my life. You’ve seen my photos. I tend towards scenery shot asymmetrically with strong angles and contrasts. My “action” photo is no exception. It looks like a soviet propaganda poster.

The Worker at Play

My only real WIfely skill is knitting but there I am a one-trick pony. I knit impossible scarves. They are moebius strips cast on in the middle and worked out to the edge. This is a skill I feel smug about. It’s clever.

Now all I need are a pair of moebius mules to go with them.

The site, alas, is down for refurbishment. I worry that they won't be selling them any more.

Still, they’ll all be set up by 10.45 tomorrow and I can come home and do nothing but please myself all weekend. And I am looking forward to that.

Talking to Patsy

Oh look. The word for the day is obviously “access”.

Asking Patsy

It is suprisingly hard to write a question which she cannot answer with “because I said so” or in some other blustering and flanelly way.

I’ve tried “how can 6,000 hours of specialist medical training for a consultant be an improvement on 30,000 hours?” but she will burble on about assessments and better quality of training.

I don’t have adequate details to hand for “why did you lie to the house of commons about MMC” and without the details, she’ll claim she didn’t.

And I’d need details to ask her “why won’t you see constituents who work for the NHS, even if they want to talk to you about matters other than the NHS?”

And all the time I want to say “do you have any idea how much I dislike and dispise you, you self-aggrandising and power-crazed cow?”

But when I have some nice sharp questions, I’ll be emailing them to Patsy.

If I could ask Tony and Gordon…

At the suggestion of Mums 4 Medics, I have just spent a happy 15 minutes asking Tony and Gordon how they feel about being treated by consultants who have had 6,000 hours specialist training instead of 30,000 hours, and other questions relating to MMC and MTAS.

But then I had to stop.

All I wanted to ask was stuff like “how can you look yourself in the mirror?” and “in what world is 1,000,000 people marching to London to say ‘not in my name’? a mandate to start and illegal war?” and “why don’t you just drop dead you complacent piece of shit?”

So I had to stop.

You might have better luck.

Ask Tony and Gordon

As others see us

Aphra BouvierI spent two days last week on a training course learning how to be a leader. I am, it seems, now suitably trained for the reception of any alien delegations.

One of the down-time exercises was learning to draw cartoons and making portraits of our fellow trainees using our new found skill. Here’s the portrait of me. I do feel it has captured my inner Marge Simpson rather well. In fact, it’s a dead-ringer for one of her sisters, isn’t it? Hmmmm.

The other thing I discovered is that – when you are asked what you’ve learned from a communication exercise – do NOT say “Don’t put on a blindfold without agreeing a safe word first”.

Probably better if the aliens are taken to someone else, really.