About 15 years ago I met Stuart 'Aq' Langridge when he walked into the new Wolverhampton Linux Users Group I had just started with his trademark bombastic personality and humor. Ever since those first interactions we have become really close friends. Today Stuart turns 40 and I just wanted to share a few words about how remarkable a human being he is. Many of you who have listened to Stuart on Bad Voltage, seen him speak, worked with him, or socialized with him will know him for his larger than life personality. He is funny, warm, and passionate about his family, friends, and technology. He is opinionated, and many of you will know him for the amusing, insightful, and tremendously articulate way in which he expresses his views. He is remarkably talented and has an incredible level of insight and perspective. He is not just a brilliant programmer and software architect, but he has a deft knowledge and understanding of people, how they work together, and the driving forces behind human interaction. What I have always admired is that while bombastic in his views, he is always open to fresh ideas and new perspectives. For him life is a journey and new ways of looking at the road are truly thrilling for him. As I have grown as a person in my career, with my family, and particularly when moving to America, he has always supported yet challenged me. He is one of those rare friends that can enthusiastically validate great steps forward yet, with the same enthusiasm, illustrate mistakes too. I love the fact that we have a relationship that can be so open and honest, yet underlined with respect. It is his personality, understanding, humor, thoughtfulness, care, and mentorship that will always make him one of my favorite people in the world. How does the author feel about Stuart? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - he looks down on him - he admires him - not enough information - he doesn't trust him
he admires him
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The address I had been given was a flophouse called Casa Salvador in the scummy side of downtown, the part where the city's redevelopment (read: "gentrification") efforts hadn't yet managed to drive out the sundry undesirable elements. I walked inside past the front lobby. I could tell the desk manager wanted to hassle me, but he was too busy arguing with a middle-aged peroxide-blonde woman in a leopard-print top. Her skin was leathery and weather beaten, and I guessed she was the type who was actually a good ten years younger than she looked. I made my way up the narrow staircase that smelled of urine and bleach, going all the way to the third floor. I continued down the dimly lit hallway, past a series of closed doors that muffled the sounds of women faking moans of pleasure. Room 313 was down at the far end of the hall, and its door was already slightly ajar. I knocked anyways, but there was no answer. Pushing the door open just enough to poke my head in, I called, "Hello? Is anybody in there?" There was no response, so I went in and felt along the wall for the light switch. A single weak bulb came on, lighting up the tiny, sparse room with a dim yellow glow. The room was about 8 feet by 8 feet, and the only furniture was a dingy, unmade bed and a metal foot locker. There were no windows, no closet, and no bathroom. As I stepped all the way in, I noticed a wooden baseball bat propped up beside the door. My watch said 6:20 - twenty minutes late for the interview. I sat on the edge of the bed to wait, hoping that maybe my contact had just stepped out momentarily. After a few minutes, a phone started ringing out in the hallway. I let it ring six times with no one answering before I decided to get it - partly in the off chance it was my contact, but mostly out of morbid curiosity as to what kind of business someone would have calling this dump. How did he feel when he saw the bat? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - Disgusted. - not enough information - Concerned. - Curious.
Concerned.
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SHE moved through the crowded streets like she owned the place. Hell, if things went as planned in the coming months, she might in fact own the place. Or some other place if that's what she wanted. If things went as planned, there was no limit to what she could have. She smiled to herself as a crowd of sunburned, middle-aged men broke ranks to let her pass on her way toward Mallory Square. They had no idea who she was, but she liked to think that they could sense her strength and that it intimidated them. Not enough to stop them from staring openly at her chest of course, but what did she expect? They were still men. Duval Street, Key West's main tourist drag, buzzed with early evening activity. The sun had set less than an hour ago, and the throngs moving up from the nightly sunset ritual in Mallory Square now wandered about, trying to choose between the dozens of bars and restaurants vying for their attention. She moved against the general flow and seemed to know exactly where she was going. She knew these streets well and had planned out her route ahead of time. But something bothered her. That nagging feeling in the back of her brain that she'd long ago learned to heed even though it was wrong as often as it was right. You couldn't survive in her world without learning to pay attention to such feelings, and she'd more than survived - she'd prospered beyond the dreams of any young hacker or con artist. Heeding the subliminal warning, she changed plans and stepped out into the crawling Duval Street traffic. A purple taxi honked angrily but she just smiled as she strode across the street and stared intently at a display of cheap, tasteless T-shirts in a storefront window. What does narrator feel? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - There's no limit to what she can have. - not enough information - She can get any man in the bar to buy her a drink. - Any shirt she wants from the storefront window.
There's no limit to what she can have.
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I picked up this Sporf in Amsterdam Schipol airport. A spork I'd seen before, but the addition of a simple serration on the side of the fork end makes this a genuine "three-in-one" implement for eating one's full three-course takeaway meal on the plane. The sporf is no innovation; back in 1940 the "sporf" was born. It took me until 2015 to notice this one thanks to its rather pleasant design. The sporf is a little like most strategy documents that I come across. It is one implement designed to serve a multitude of goals, but with one fatal flaw: you can only ever use one part of the sporf / strategy at any one time. With the sporf, things would get messy trying to use the spoon and knife and the same time. The knife and fork work quite well in sequence but physics prevents me using both at the same time as I can with the older technologies of knife and fork. In strategy formation, we can develop a multitude of potential purposes within one document, killer vision statement or mission. But it's important to recognise that the teams around us will only ever be able to do one thing really well at any one time. This is a lesson oft ignored by schools, in particular, as they attempt to ask educators to create an ever-more creative curriculum without having first tackled attitudes towards summative assessments throughout the year. It is also a challenge in some of the world's most successful, but now stagnating, big businesses: they've spent decades or centuries building a reputation across a large array of devices, technologies, components or clothing, but the real strategy is working out which of the current array needs killed off to enable teams in their quest to develop something totally new, properly innovative. The author probably believes that: Pick the correct answer from the following options: - strategy formation helps develop multiple purposes within one singularity - strategy formation is useless - not enough information - strategy formation does not help big business
strategy formation helps develop multiple purposes within one singularity
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