The Grumpy Scrum Master

September 17, 2014

grumpy dwarf

“Going against men, I have heard at times a deep harmony
thrumming in the mixture, and when they ask me what
I say I don’t know. It is not the only or the easiest
way to come to the truth. It is one way.” – Wendell Berry

I looked in the mirror the other day and guess what I saw? The grumpy scrum master. He comes by sometimes and pays me a visit. Old grumpy looked at me and I looked at him and together we agreed that perhaps, just this one time, he just might be right.

We sat down and had a talk. It turns out he’s tired and cranky and seen this all before. I told him I can relate. We agreed that we’ve both done enough stupid to last a couple of lifetimes. No arguments there. He knows what he doesn’t like – me too! After a little debate, we both agreed we don’t give a damn what you think.

So we decided it was time to write a manifesto. That is

We grumps have come to value:

Speaking our mind over listening to whiners

Working hard over talking about it

 Getting shit done over following a plan

Disagreeing with you over getting along

That is, while the items are the right are a total waste of time, the stuff on the left is much more gratifying.

 


I’m Helping!

August 22, 2013

Super_Grover_flying_high

I used to race with a really experienced crew on a J120 (a flippin’ nice sailboat). We were all very hardcore about our racing. Many on the crew had been racing sailboats since their childhood. These guys were good – really good. We pushed each other hard and we expected a lot of ourselves and each other when we were out on the race course. So there was plenty of pressure.

I came to sailing relatively late in life compared to some, so I was very self-conscious. I didn’t want to make mistakes. In sailboat racing, there are a million little mistakes you can make that will slow the boat down. However, since it’s a team sport, you can cover for each other too. Not only are you trying to perform well yourself, ideally you are trying to help your teammates perform well too (at least on the successful teams). In sailboat racing you are always trying to anticipate what needs to happen next: clear the deck of loose sheets, make sure the spinnaker is prepped for the next rounding, re-run fouled lines, and Lord knows what other details. I always feel a bit like a bobble head doll when I’m racing – always trying to look in every direction at once.

I remember there was one guy on the boat who was really talented. He’d been sailing since he was in diapers. Things just seemed to come naturally for him. He was always where the help was needed most. He was easygoing and relaxed, learning was easy around him. But even he made mistakes from time to time – just like the rest of us. He’d pull the wrong string, blow the wrong halyard, grab the wrong winch. Whenever he screwed up he would yell,

“I’m helping!”

He would do it in an uncanny imitation of the Sesame Street muppet Grover. Super Grover to the rescue! We’d round a mark on the course and he would miss grabbing a sheet (in all the chaos and madness that we call making a left hand turn in sailing…).

“I’m helping!”

Usually everyone on the boat would bust up at this point. It broke up the tension we all felt when we failed a maneuver. It got us past the “Oh shit!” moment and allowed us to shrug it off and keep focused on our goal. I’ve been on other boats where someone made a mistake that cost the team on the race course without the help of ‘Grover’. Generally, on those boats we experienced something that felt like blame and recrimination. Perhaps we were less experienced, less able to forgive each other our mistakes, less able to cover for each other. Less able to allow for normal human nature to express itself. The problem was, we would struggle to recover our equilibrium for far too long after the event occurred.

A couple years later I was on another boat in a long distance race. It was early evening and the sun was setting over the Olympics on Puget Sound. As is often the case at that time of the evening, the wind died and we were left trying to race in the barest breath of wind. The water was flat and the sunlight was turning a deep shade of orange as it hit the mountains and reflected off the flat water around us. In fickle conditions like this, even the smallest mistake can cost you the race. As we all tacked into the shore to get relief from the current, I watched a nearby boat fail to release a sheet and blow the tack. They came to a stop and as we drifted past I heard,

“I’m helping!”

In the unmistakeable voice of Super Grover.

I remember feeling two things at the time:

  1. Damn, that’s funny
  2. We’re going to get our asses handed to us

Frankly I wish I saw more of Super Grover in the Agile software development community. All too often I see teams that are under tremendous pressure to deliver (is there any other kind?). When someone makes a mistake, it can all too easily turn into a situation where blame and recrimination slow the team down. There is no one there to help them shrug the mistake off. Someone with experience and the respect of the team. Someone who can look at his/her own mistakes and laugh,

“I’m helping!”

Sometimes I think that a team needs someone who can see that even though their efforts were well intended, even skilled – they were mistaken.  It is easier when someone you respect and admire can completely blow it and laugh about it. Suddenly the job doesn’t seem quite so serious. The task doesn’t seem quite so critical and we allow ourselves to get back to doing what we really enjoy.

Or perhaps I’ve got it wrong. Maybe this kind of thing doesn’t really apply to software teams. Maybe there is a better explanation for this kind of behavior. If so, that’s OK,

“I’m helping!”


If You Give An Agilist A Cookie…

January 1, 2010

If you give an Agilist a project, He’s going to ask for some stories.

When you give him the stories, he’ll probably ask you for a sprint.

When he’s finished he’ll probably ask for a retrospective.

Then he will want to reflect on his work and look to improve.

When he reflects on his work he might notice he can do better, so he will probably ask for a pairing session.

When he’s finished with the pairing session, he’ll want some unit tests to validate his work. He might get carried away and write tests for the whole application. He may even end up automating them all as well!

When he’s done, he’ll probably want to collaborate with his peers. You will fix a common work area for him, with a task board and a lava lamp. He’ll crawl in and make himself comfortable and break the build a few times.

He’ll probably ask you to read him a story, so you pull one off the backlog and read it to him, and he’ll ask you to see the tasks. When he looks at the tasks, he’ll get so excited he’ll want to implement one. He’ll ask you for an IDE and a CI server.

He’ll create a build. When the task is finished, he’ll want to review it for acceptance with the PO. Then he’ll want to update the task board. Which means he will need…sticky notes.

He’ll update the taskboard and stand back to look at it. Looking at the task board will remind him that he can do some more cool stuff, so…He’ll ask for another sprint.

And chances are if he asks for another sprint, he’s going to want another story to go with it.

The end.

Paraphrased from the marvelous children’s classic, “If You Give A Mouse A Cookie”, by Laura Joffe Numeroff & Illustrated by Felicia Bond