It’s
now the end of January and we’re well and truly into the year even if I personally
(and many others based on some informal conversations I have had) am still
waiting for final confirmation of my objectives for 2013. I’ve spent a fair
amount of this month looking at the Virtual Sales Kick Off (VSKO) videos from
the different business units in our company. We are renowned in the market
place for being a highly customer centric organization especially compared to the likes of other technology firms such as Oracle or NetApp, and this theme is
reiterated in virtually every recording. To this end, I think our customer
support organization is indeed living up to that billing. However when I
reflect on the other parts of the organization, I start to feel the need to draw
a fine line between being client focused and being focused on a specific client
opportunity. Admittedly both are better than some other places I have seen that
are only focused on increasing the number of bodies that are employed by any
given client regardless of the bigger picture or final outcome, but I still
think that customer centric or focused means that you should be trying to
understand who the client is, and the specific challenges they are facing in
their industry at that particular point in time. That is a wider topic that
just working every hour God sends to complete a comprehensive response to a
potentially lucrative RFP that was released four weeks earlier. I don’t
necessarily say that one is inherently more profitable than the other – there is
a lot to be said for a strong sales-driven culture. However I can’t help but
think that one approach gives rise to stronger more sustainable and longer term
relationships.
Thursday, 31 January 2013
Friday, 25 January 2013
Bionic, No, Banal Man – Part 2
When you
grow up playing football at a decent standard, going to a competitive school,
studying at Oxford and then working for Accenture for 10 years, you (or anyone else)
don’t really leave yourself much time to be normal. However I honestly
couldn’t have been happier than when I sat up from the operating table this morning after
my eye surgery and heard Dr. Gauthier-Fournet say to me, “everything has gone
fine, your operation was very banal”. I am banal, ordinary, boring! I can
assure you that when it comes to matters of eyesight, then that suits me just
fine! At that moment, if I hadn’t been so scared that it might have negatively
impacted them, I could probably have even started crying my eyes out. As I sit
here on my computer only a few hours later, wearing my Steve Wonder style
sunglasses with my vision already massively improved (I keep having to remind
myself that I don’t have my contact lens in), I am already confident that
taking the plunge to have my eyes LASIK’d (Laser In Situ Keratomileusis) was the right choice.
Thankfully after I’d taken the decision to have the operation and had had the initial consultation at the start of January, I didn’t think too much about the whole thing. It wasn’t very “real” even when I was putting eye drops in three times a day earlier this week. It still wasn’t very real even as my friend Laetitia (what a super Mother Hen figure she turned out to be today!) picked me up at 8.30, and drove me 30 minutes to the eye hospital. The long wait after checking in just seemed like any other ordinary long wait, as did sitting in the patient’s waiting room after I’d donned yet another hospital night shirt, plastic shoe covers and a rather fetching little plastic shower cap. The sounding of the fire alarm which interrupted the rather annoying “let’s not offend anyone” Tracey Chapman style music in the background, was something of a relief, especially because the pragmatic French just carried on as if nothing had happened. However, shortly afterwards the nerves did indeed strike. Now it had started to get real. That said those nerves were pretty short lived because a young lady who had just had her operation came out and sat down next to us. She seemed to still be alive, and she seemed to still have her sight, indeed it was noticeably better than it had been 10 minutes earlier. When I asked her what had been wrong with her eyesight beforehand, she then proceeded to list a whole plethora of optical impairments. I stopped her after the fourth, my confidence had already been sufficiently buoyed – if they had managed to fix that blind coot then my operation was going to be a stroll in the park. Whilst I still couldn’t describe myself as being blasé by this stage, I did manage to sigh something that resembled relaxed relief. Unfortunately that was also short lived as the nurse came back two minutes later and proceeded to put some final drops in my eyes which stung like mild chilies. Two minutes after that I was then led to the operating theatre which was about 20 meters away. The operation itself was short, but sufficiently uncomfortable to be memorable. There was no arm round the shoulder, let’s look at your papers again before a final “into the breach once more” cup of tea, it was, “hello again, right lie down, O’Brien, Aidan right eye, focus on the flashing green light”. By the time I pointed out to him that I was here for both eyes, he had already inserted the little plastic discs that were to keep my eye lids where they needed to be, and telling me that yes he understood that, but that he was going to start with the right eye. Oh yes, well I’ll just shut up then and hold on for dear life (really nurse, there is no need to pin my arms down – haven’t you seen the nail marks I’ve already left in the handles either side of the bed?). I desperately tried to do everything to focus on that flashing green light although I couldn’t help but be surprised by the continued presence of the doctor. I thought it was “the machine” that did everything rather like when having an x-ray taken? There was however too much stuff going on which prevented me from working out whether or not I was reassured or concerned by the doctor’s continued presence. On reflection I think the biggest difference between this and last week’s operations (both under local anesthetic), was that hands and arms feel and the eyes see. When my arm was under local anesthetic its ability to feel was taken away. However even though the eyes were unable to feel, the anesthetic did not remove its primary sensory purpose of seeing. As a result I was a lot less serene this week – there was definitely no chance of falling asleep as I did last week and not just because of those bloody plastic discs.
At the end of the operation I grasped eagerly at my “banal report card” and tentatively started to believe that the immediate visual improvement I was seeing might actually be real. Obviously the result improves over the coming hours and days, but as I sat down again in the waiting room I quietly completed my little personal mental checklist; blind YES/NO, improved vision YES/NO, and on coming out with one YES and one NO (in the right order of course), I offered up a little prayer of thanks. That was washed down with a complimentary croissant and hot chocolate (yes, this is France still), and then I picked up my now redundant glasses before completing all the necessary administrative papers, and a final check-up to make sure that the flap on the lens that had been cut during the operation was sitting flat and now ready to start the healing process.
Thankfully after I’d taken the decision to have the operation and had had the initial consultation at the start of January, I didn’t think too much about the whole thing. It wasn’t very “real” even when I was putting eye drops in three times a day earlier this week. It still wasn’t very real even as my friend Laetitia (what a super Mother Hen figure she turned out to be today!) picked me up at 8.30, and drove me 30 minutes to the eye hospital. The long wait after checking in just seemed like any other ordinary long wait, as did sitting in the patient’s waiting room after I’d donned yet another hospital night shirt, plastic shoe covers and a rather fetching little plastic shower cap. The sounding of the fire alarm which interrupted the rather annoying “let’s not offend anyone” Tracey Chapman style music in the background, was something of a relief, especially because the pragmatic French just carried on as if nothing had happened. However, shortly afterwards the nerves did indeed strike. Now it had started to get real. That said those nerves were pretty short lived because a young lady who had just had her operation came out and sat down next to us. She seemed to still be alive, and she seemed to still have her sight, indeed it was noticeably better than it had been 10 minutes earlier. When I asked her what had been wrong with her eyesight beforehand, she then proceeded to list a whole plethora of optical impairments. I stopped her after the fourth, my confidence had already been sufficiently buoyed – if they had managed to fix that blind coot then my operation was going to be a stroll in the park. Whilst I still couldn’t describe myself as being blasé by this stage, I did manage to sigh something that resembled relaxed relief. Unfortunately that was also short lived as the nurse came back two minutes later and proceeded to put some final drops in my eyes which stung like mild chilies. Two minutes after that I was then led to the operating theatre which was about 20 meters away. The operation itself was short, but sufficiently uncomfortable to be memorable. There was no arm round the shoulder, let’s look at your papers again before a final “into the breach once more” cup of tea, it was, “hello again, right lie down, O’Brien, Aidan right eye, focus on the flashing green light”. By the time I pointed out to him that I was here for both eyes, he had already inserted the little plastic discs that were to keep my eye lids where they needed to be, and telling me that yes he understood that, but that he was going to start with the right eye. Oh yes, well I’ll just shut up then and hold on for dear life (really nurse, there is no need to pin my arms down – haven’t you seen the nail marks I’ve already left in the handles either side of the bed?). I desperately tried to do everything to focus on that flashing green light although I couldn’t help but be surprised by the continued presence of the doctor. I thought it was “the machine” that did everything rather like when having an x-ray taken? There was however too much stuff going on which prevented me from working out whether or not I was reassured or concerned by the doctor’s continued presence. On reflection I think the biggest difference between this and last week’s operations (both under local anesthetic), was that hands and arms feel and the eyes see. When my arm was under local anesthetic its ability to feel was taken away. However even though the eyes were unable to feel, the anesthetic did not remove its primary sensory purpose of seeing. As a result I was a lot less serene this week – there was definitely no chance of falling asleep as I did last week and not just because of those bloody plastic discs.
At the end of the operation I grasped eagerly at my “banal report card” and tentatively started to believe that the immediate visual improvement I was seeing might actually be real. Obviously the result improves over the coming hours and days, but as I sat down again in the waiting room I quietly completed my little personal mental checklist; blind YES/NO, improved vision YES/NO, and on coming out with one YES and one NO (in the right order of course), I offered up a little prayer of thanks. That was washed down with a complimentary croissant and hot chocolate (yes, this is France still), and then I picked up my now redundant glasses before completing all the necessary administrative papers, and a final check-up to make sure that the flap on the lens that had been cut during the operation was sitting flat and now ready to start the healing process.
The drive back home was lit up with street signs that sparkled with
clarity and crisp letters. If there hadn’t been the risk of an exchange of
nasty microbes which might have put the recovery of my eyes at risk, then I could have kissed my friend and chauffeur Laetita who
had offered moral support and waited patiently for me throughout the whole morning. It is
clear to me that the permanent optical improvement massively outweighs the inconvenience
of a weekend of Steve Wonder sunglasses that make me look like the octogenarians
that are everywhere to be seen in Biarritz (in fact I’m almost even looking
forward to going to church on Sunday so I can “be one of them”). And although
the whole operation cost in the region of 2500 euros, roughly half of that will
be reimbursed by French health insurance companies. Amazing really when you
think about it.
Phew, it’s over, job done. We're almost at the end of January and the physical stuff has been sorted out seemingly successfully, now I need to start working out what surgical interventions exist for my various personality disorders…
Phew, it’s over, job done. We're almost at the end of January and the physical stuff has been sorted out seemingly successfully, now I need to start working out what surgical interventions exist for my various personality disorders…
Thursday, 24 January 2013
An Indian Winter?
I think it’s
pretty well known that after having worked for Wipro and travelled there on
numerous occasions, I have a bit of a soft spot for India and Indians – whilst
the country isn’t as pristine as I might like, and without wishing to generalize
about a population of 1 billion, I’ve never met a group of people who are so kind,
welcoming and hard working. I always tend to read the various India related Economist
articles when I find them. However there have been a few articles and a letter
recently which make me wonder about whether or not there is a chill wind
blowing over the country… This article confirms that winters are indeed getting
colder in Northern India, http://www.economist.com/news/asia/21569439-north-indian-winters-are-short-increasingly-bleak-numbed-bones-choked-lungs
However on a more philosophical note, the following article suggested that
India is lacking something of a new political vision which is preventing it
from carrying out the economic reforms that everybody accepts are necessary http://www.economist.com/node/21563720
And the positivity I felt after reading the more upbeat article about the
reaction of middle class Indians to a despicable crime in Delhi recently (http://www.economist.com/news/leaders/21569031-horrible-attack-could-prove-turning-point-indias-women-rape-and-murder-delhi)
was dampened when I read the following letter from Vineet Bewtra in London,
especially the last two lines… “Sir – Your leader on the shocking gang rape in
Delhi placed much hope on India’s emerging middle class to promote women’s
issues. Yet the middle class themselves are just as culpable for the deeply
ingrained gender bias in Indian society. A study published in the Lancet in
2011 by Prabhat Jha et al found that the selective abortion of girls had
increased in the first ten years of this century compared with the 1990s, and
that wealthier families and educated mothers were statistically more likely to
abort girls. To paint the middle class as modernisers because they are better
educated and earn more is naive. Cultural norms in Indian society run deep”. When
you combine this with the general view that outsourcing and offshoring are
going to go into reverse and that we will see more and more “re-shoring” (http://www.economist.com/news/leaders/21569739-outsourcing-jobs-faraway-places-wane-will-not-solve-wests),
it all makes me wonder what the future might hold for India, especially because
the evidence has shown that globalization is not progressing as fast as one
might think http://www.economist.com/news/business/21568753-world-less-connected-it-was-2007-going-backwards).
Has India missed the chance to make enough hay while the sun shone?
Tuesday, 22 January 2013
Cat skinning and reptilian micturition
Maybe I've worked for American companies for too long, but despite my inherent repulsion of corporate jargon, I do have to admit that I've always been a big believer in "win-win" situations, and the idea that there are always "many ways to skin a cat"... However my recent trawling of back editions of the Economist have led me to modify that second phrase. I hereby propose a new version. I now think there are always "many ways to pee if you're a turtle"... http://www.economist.com/node/21564524
Saturday, 19 January 2013
Bionic Man - Part 1
I’m a free
man once again, a “titanium-free” man that is. The 35 minute operation at the
Polyclinic d’Aguilera to remove a two year old metal plate from my left arm went
well yesterday. And a rather nonchalant but business-like surgeon packed me on
my way this morning as I stood in front of him in my throwaway hospital underpants
with my razor in one hand and shaving foam covering half of my face (no fear of
my morning ablutions disrupting his morning round).
As ever, it was an interesting 36 hours in the hands of the world renowned French health service. The quality of the medical care was clearly very high (from reception staff to nurses to anaesthetist to surgeon), although neither the food, nor the 1980s style décor of the two bedroom unit where I slept were in the same league. In fact it’s really quite interesting to see how the hospital has changed over the six year since they repaired my arm after the first break… In short: food worse (or have my standards just increased?), medical care much improved (e.g. local rather than general anaesthetic for the same operation, and a more aesthetically pleasing scar after the fourth operation), nursing staff – the same, literally – when the nurse this morning said that he recognized me from before, I suddenly thought I should probably stop breaking things (that’s not true, I actually through I’m glad I’ve bought an air jacket which means I have significantly reduced the chance of serious injury when riding horses). On reflection, maybe the nursing staff isn’t exactly the same – this is the first time that one of the (female) nurses offered to help wash me in the shower. They were never so forward in the past, or was it just because I’m now older and more wrinkled? At any rate, it’s just a shame it was the wrong one…
A couple of other things also dominated this latest stay with the infirmières. The first is that after my recent Facebook clean up, the social networking site along with Frankie Boyle on Twitter, really helped me pass the time and keep family and friends up to date with events. Hopefully I wasn’t guilty of the TMI (too much information) syndrome… On balance, I think that next time I won’t have any requirement to spend the additional seven euros which grants one access to very poor French daytime television. The second thing that struck me is, in these austere times in a country which hasn’t balanced its books for over thirty years, is the amount of waste and inefficiency; why, if one is required to use 60ml of disinfectant for a pre-operation shower, is it supplied in 250 ml bottles? I really need to be buying shares in whichever company makes Betadine rouge 4% scrub. The other thing which shocked me was the grey-green form that was handed to me as I left which officially gives me the right to remain off work on virtually full pay until February 10th (even despite the fact I told the doctor yesterday that I had no intention of stopping work). If you don’t fancy working in this country unfortunately it’s all too easy… Anyway, all’s well that ends well… now to do some babysitting (I have had a whole day off you realize; surely you don’t think Sandie has planned any time for convalescence in my schedule do you?!) and prepare for next operation on my eyes next Friday.
As ever, it was an interesting 36 hours in the hands of the world renowned French health service. The quality of the medical care was clearly very high (from reception staff to nurses to anaesthetist to surgeon), although neither the food, nor the 1980s style décor of the two bedroom unit where I slept were in the same league. In fact it’s really quite interesting to see how the hospital has changed over the six year since they repaired my arm after the first break… In short: food worse (or have my standards just increased?), medical care much improved (e.g. local rather than general anaesthetic for the same operation, and a more aesthetically pleasing scar after the fourth operation), nursing staff – the same, literally – when the nurse this morning said that he recognized me from before, I suddenly thought I should probably stop breaking things (that’s not true, I actually through I’m glad I’ve bought an air jacket which means I have significantly reduced the chance of serious injury when riding horses). On reflection, maybe the nursing staff isn’t exactly the same – this is the first time that one of the (female) nurses offered to help wash me in the shower. They were never so forward in the past, or was it just because I’m now older and more wrinkled? At any rate, it’s just a shame it was the wrong one…
A couple of other things also dominated this latest stay with the infirmières. The first is that after my recent Facebook clean up, the social networking site along with Frankie Boyle on Twitter, really helped me pass the time and keep family and friends up to date with events. Hopefully I wasn’t guilty of the TMI (too much information) syndrome… On balance, I think that next time I won’t have any requirement to spend the additional seven euros which grants one access to very poor French daytime television. The second thing that struck me is, in these austere times in a country which hasn’t balanced its books for over thirty years, is the amount of waste and inefficiency; why, if one is required to use 60ml of disinfectant for a pre-operation shower, is it supplied in 250 ml bottles? I really need to be buying shares in whichever company makes Betadine rouge 4% scrub. The other thing which shocked me was the grey-green form that was handed to me as I left which officially gives me the right to remain off work on virtually full pay until February 10th (even despite the fact I told the doctor yesterday that I had no intention of stopping work). If you don’t fancy working in this country unfortunately it’s all too easy… Anyway, all’s well that ends well… now to do some babysitting (I have had a whole day off you realize; surely you don’t think Sandie has planned any time for convalescence in my schedule do you?!) and prepare for next operation on my eyes next Friday.
Wednesday, 16 January 2013
Bob the Genius
On the subject of doing or not doing things yourself, check this story out. Top marks for originality... http://www.theregister.co.uk/2013/01/16/developer_oursources_job_china/
Tuesday, 15 January 2013
Bring On Film On
If I thought the Nebraskan and the Chinese had changed my life, then my old friend Neville has probably just rocked the worlds of both me and Maxime... www.filmon.com - finally Maxime can get cbeebies on the internet in France. As for me, not only can I get all my favourite UK programmes such as MOTD, X-Factor, the Inbetweeners etc... I also discovered that Film On also offers not one, but two, "bikini channels". From the sublime to the ridiculous, but at any rate, Maxime and I have many hours of Makka Pakka and Gary Lineker on the large screen Apple Mac ahead of us...(although surely having Channel 4's "The Undateables" on in the background whilst I do Facebook updates and work emails is absolutely unnecessary).
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