The phrase “convenience shouldn’t trump security” sounds good. It carries the weight of authority, of someone who is taking a stand to do the right thing, and in most cases they are. Problem is, outside of a high security setting, inconveniencing users tends to make things less secure. The classic example: An IT department implements a high complexity password requirement. Numbers, letters, uppercase, lowercase, symbols, all that jazz. Policy in place, IT tells management “We’re more secure” ignoring the fact that most users are now writing their passwords down on sticky notes and putting them under their keyboard.

At last year’s Cisco Live, I sat in a room full of network engineers and architects who were openly hostile to the Cisco marketing person presenting to us. We were talking about control systems, the Internet of Things, and the networking needed to tie modern technologies together. The presentation was basically “just buy more traditional route/switch gear and you’ll be prepped for this brave new world”, to which the audience almost universally responded “Umm, no.

A whisper and the scent of blood woke it. The blood was simple, uncomplicated. The whisper, more complex, spiced with fear, anger, sorrow, acceptance. Both trickled downward into the earth. “Help me.” It was spread thin and pieces of it refused to come when called, empty of life or gone wild in isolation. What returned came slowly. Hours passed as it collected enough of itself to remember what it was. The blood it smelt had long since dried, forming brittle roots and rivers that would be broken and scattered by the wind.

I like VMware. They’re a solid company with lots of good people (With the exception of whoever is responsible for product names – VMware vCloud Air Virtual Private Cloud OnDemand? Seriously, what is wrong with you?) and tech. I’ve been using their products for fifteen years and still remember how magical it felt the first time I loaded VMware Workstation and had Windows running inside of Windows. I remember calling someone over to my desk and telling them “Look how cool this is.

Sometimes people bring me ideas. They say “I have this great idea for an app.” or “I have an idea for a tech business.” Inevitably, both are followed by “…and I just need you to build it for me.” This is nothing special about me – it happens to most tech people. I used to gracefully dodge with self deprecation or whatever else I could use to let the person down easy.

I had a long car trip on Monday, past fields, factories, and construction sites on my way to and from a certification test. I passed semi trucks, delivery vans, and countless other cars with drivers all scooting along just like me, hands on the wheel, headed somewhere. It all made me feel both excited and sad. I thought about each of the businesses I passed and how each was being automated, either by pure software or robotics.

I’ve been writing on the internet since the golden days of Geocities (I was in Area51 Neighborhood if you must know and have any idea what any of those words mean.). That’s where I cut my teeth on HTML, hacking together image maps and making egregious use of the tag. It’s also where I learned not to trust someone else’s platform with my content. Every week GeoCities would try something new to monetize what people were doing on the platform, usually making something worse for the people who hosted sites there (bandwidth limits, more ads, etc).

I hate chaos. I can function within it, but have found there’s usually no reason to. Most chaos is artificially created, the product of Bad Decisions, General Ignorance, and Unchained Whim. Even when chaos is real, it’s rarely a good idea to work inside it. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of chaos in most businesses and IT departments. I’ve found that some people thrive in chaos. They create their own chaos just for fun or to set themselves up as the hero of the day.

Saying “no” is hard. Few people like telling someone else that they can’t have something. At best, the other person is going to be disappointed. They might get angry. They may break down in tears. They may yell, or they may just frown. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.” Ugh, just thinking about it makes me feel guilty. Because saying “no” feels bad, we end up saying “yes” to a lot of stupid things and committing ourselves to a laundry list of regret.

Air curling up from the hollows on either side of the mountain runway shoves against the sides of the plane so that it shudders and jumps as we descend. We bounce once, then a second time before making a solid connection with the tarmac – turboprops roaring, reversed full speed. We wait while the gate agent makes small talk with the stewardess. “Them planes sure are big,” she says, pointing at several military, cargo planes across the runway from us.