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We have taken project management from the building industry where 90% is a known factor and 10% is unknown.
And introduced it into an industry where 90% is unknown and 10 % is known.
In the building industry, there is a project manager who has all the knowledge, setting schedules and committing to the client
In the software business the project manager has the least knowledge of what it takes setting schedules and committing to the client
So 90% of software development projects are over time and over budget.
One thing I like most about France is the freedom of showing your affection.
Much to my surprise when I went to reception to enquire about something small, and was greeted by the receptionist with a kiss on both cheeks. I’ve only met her once.
This surprised, but didnt entirely shock.
What intrigued me is just exactly how run-of-the-mill this simple practice is.
Sitting on a bench, waiting for the train, I notice teenagers all around me, signalling the end of a day.
Two girls sit to my right. They look pretty standard, as teenagers come. Pony tails, skinny jeans, the statement t-shirt, big hoop earrings, makeup, chewing gum… and they’re either playing with their phones, or showing each other their latest nail-do.
As more and more people start to fill the train station, so do more and more teenagers, on their way into or out of town.
Many know each other, obviously go to the same school.
Most teenagers that pass, and recognise my two friends on the right, greet them each with the proverbial kiss on the cheek.
Girls and boys alike.
What looks like ordinarily shy, gawky teens – it comes as second nature to them and dont hesitate in offering a cheek.
I smile.
There’s no pretense. Just a simple way of life.
I should BE there, I keep thinking to myself.
I watch BBC news, and their feature items are about South Africa. How bizarre it is to be watching news about my country, and about my history, but from an outsider looking in.
The stories are pitched in the same way that the sorrowful stories are pitched about the Holocaust, or about North Korea, or about American Slavery… and at once I feel almost hypocritical about feeling annoyed at the news of the past and the way it is presented by some news agencies.
I would like to see the giant Vuvuzela, and I would like to see the huge wheel at the waterfront.
I would like to have SA flag socks on my car mirrors, and I should be wearing the football jersey on Fridays. I feel neglected at how the international arena is getting on-board with football fury, while I, a local to this phenomenon, sits and watches.
In my own way, I’ll celebrate. And for now, I’ll join the happiness of an amazing country. And I’ll join the happiness of a great event. And I’ll celebrate.
Albeit with a twinge of sadness.
Feel it, its there.
You can imagine my excitement at finding my way successfully to the greatest chanteuse of all time, Edith Piaf. Having been laid to rest at La Pere Lechaise cemetry in Paris, I searched many cobbled alleys, and dusty sepulchres to find her rather ordinary looking tombstone… with one single vase on top, 2 red roses and a huge EP carved into the vase.
Feeling almost as if I was standing on Holy Ground, I noticed a little inscription at the foot of the tombstone which read
dieu reunite ceux qui s’aiment
(God reunites those that love each other)
And my mind flashes back to her life story displayed in the move La Mome, where this song rings out just after she discovered that the love of her life, had been killed in an airplane crash.
I find a little bench to sit on and rest for a while, and spend some time with Edith.
I notice that her daughter of only 2 years old, Marcelle, is also buried here with her.
Edith taught me a lot about life. And I felt it necessary to pay due respect now at her final resting place.
Non, rien de rien. No, je ne regrette rien.
Merci, Edith.
Been spending the past couple of weeks in Europe. First stop was a beautiful little town of Villingen, on the edge of the Black Forest in Germany. A beautiful little medieval town, I was amazed that it showed relatively little damage from the wars it has experienced.
Mother Goose being who she is, I leapt at the chance to explore the little town in any spare time that I did have. Cobbled streets and tiny little stores, you start to develop an appreciation for the usual faces you meet along the way, when you are on a search for things like… headache tablets, bottled water and something yummy for lunch.
My personal favourite was the slightly balding chap I met at the coffee house around the corner from the hotel. Very eager to practice his (non-existent) English, he always understood my order a 1-scooped-Nutella in when the time came.
On the weekends, we had the chance to visit some of the tourist attractions in the area – which naturally included many many cuckoo clock shops (we thought we’d hit the jackpot when we found our first one… little did we know that this was the start of the Cuckoo Clock mile… where these shops came hard and fast – and eventually had us not even noticing them anymore). Sigh… tourist trap 1, Mother Goose 0.
Rain and cold had us wrapped up for most of the time, but when we needed a little bit of home, we made our way to our favourite little pub, a couple of streets away from our Hotel. The locals at the pub, who didnt speak a word of English, invited these two foreigners into their coccoon as if we were lifelong friends. To the point that when we had finished our final dinner in Germany, we were sent on our way with hugs and kisses – had Mother Goose quite teary eyed.
But please… dont tell anyone.
FYI: Mother Goose works for MiX Telematics and is currently sharing her expertise in Europe.
I have worked for MIX Telematics for 9 years now and as I so often tell new recruits, the more time passes the more grateful I am to be working for such a great company. Here are some of the cool company facts that jumped out at me today, making me proud and excited to be part of a winning formula:
