Well, it appears that I have might have spoken a tad too soon. Truthfully, I’m still not that far off from my original theory, but I’ll adjust it since further evidence compels me. So, after a whole month of advertising, my book Blowing the Bridge (yes, I fully embrace self-promotion and don’t know the meaning of the word ‘shame’) has been advertised on Goodreads for over a month, and it has been viewed over 200,000 times…but it’s only been clicked a few dozen times. So, my fiancée hasn’t been proven wrong: Goodreads is not a site for an audience that wants to read contemporary satire. (Instead, it’s more of a site aimed at escapist literature, especially for middle-aged women.) However, my optimism towards Google Adwords was a tad misplaced. Despite having a higher percentage rate for clicks, my Google Adwords campaign only has 35,000 viewings after several weeks, and despite having hundred of clicks, there’s no indication that any sales can be attributed to it. At least with Goodreads, there have been a few people who have either read it or have marked it as ‘to-read’ for future consumption. So, at the very least, my declaration of Google Adwords as the clear winner…well…that might have been wrong. And that’s the most which you’re going to get from me! So put that in your pipe and smoke it!

In any case, one of my friends provided a suggestion that might be of some assistance. There’s an avid community of reviewers on prominent eBook sites (like Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc.), and their opinions carry a good deal of weight within the site’s community. In fact, some of them have blogs with a significant following. So, if you approach the right reviewers (i.e., ones who might actually appreciate your book), you could get a recommendation which broadcasts to an entire community of possible fans. It’s an idea worth checking out.

On a side note, that same friend from before had another suggestion. Being also of the “old-school” ways, he knew that I would eventually want a physical copy of my own book. He recommended CreateSpace, which is a subsidiary of Amazon. (At this point, what online company isn’t a subsidiary of Amazon?) Interestingly, since this company is a tentacle of the Cthulhu beast known as Amazon, I don’t know why this option wasn’t already integrated into the KDP publishing process…Nevertheless, it’s an interesting site. The site isn’t entirely straightforward, and there are some confusing parts to their submission process…but in the end, you supposedly get an affordable way to print your own book in bulk. I went ahead and ordered 5 proof copies, in order to check out the material. So far so good. However, I’ve learned already to be more cautious about making any pronouncements with only scant evidence. I still have the taste of crow in my mouth.

During one typical morning on the way to work, I approached my usual guy in the coffee cart, in the plan of obtaining my daily order.  Since it’s usually the same on every morning, there’s a nearly silent transaction which occurs between the two of us, as I stare curiously into the dangling blue nazar while he fills my cup of coffee.  On this day, it started like any other morning…but in the midst of pouring my cup of coffee, he suddenly stopped and looked up at me.  I raised a surprised eyebrow back at him, awaiting some joke or amusing comment.  “She’s dead,” he said.  “My wife.  She died in a car accident last night.  She’s gone.” My eyes widened in surprise and shock.  Even though I didn’t know her all that well, I had been at the cart on many occasions when his wife had been there, assisting her husband.  She wasn’t a stranger; she was a familiar face that indicated kindness.  Looking into his, I could see the desperation behind his eyes. I felt immediate sorrow for his loss.

I had no idea how to respond. What can anyone say in the face of utter despair which doesn’t sound contrived and banal? What can you even do to help comfort someone who is obviously trying to reach out, even to someone who is a customer but mostly still a stranger? I muttered something about being so sorry, and since I knew a scant few facts about his children in college, I told him that they could take comfort in each other. I walked away in a mental disarray, and when I sat down at my desk, I continued to reevaluate my reaction. To this day, I still can’t come to any conclusion as to the choice of my words. However, I’m not critical of myself since I didn’t bring myself to such a situation; he put me in it.

Recently, I found myself in a similar situation at work. If you’ve ever worked in software (or in any field which has requires a certain amount of technical expertise), you’re aware of the necessity to keep abreast of the latest methods and techniques, if you have any hope of staying competitive. Some people like myself are acutely aware of that condition, and especially in my case, I’m at an age where you’re paranoid of that fact. Others, though, either are not aware of that fact or simply don’t believe that it will affect them. These older workers, these Drifters retain and utilize the skills that got them hired in the first place ages ago…but they never improve themselves in terms of their chosen career. Their time becomes consumed by outside interests (community, family, etc.), and as the decades slip past, they become the personified versions of fax machines and dial-up modems.

Your body and the world at large are more forgiving of mistakes and ignorance when you are young, but when you’ve cruised around the point of middle-age, the winds spare no mercy on your sails. One of my colleagues is such a Drifter, and recently, he stumped our department. After the past few poor reviews regarding his performance, he probably has surmised his own situation, and sensing his lack of relevance, he jumped at an opportunity which was beyond his comprehension and skill. My colleagues, my superiors, and I faced a similar conundrum as I had stared into the visage of that grieving widower. What do you say to someone in that spot, when they’re decades behind the curve? What can you truthfully tell them which wouldn’t crush their spirit? Consequently, nobody said anything, and they allowed him to pursue the project, knowing that it would probably fail in his hands. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m unsure about my own lack of a response…but, in the end, I don’t feel guilty about it. I didn’t bring myself to the situation; he put me in it.

So, of course, the worst part about writing a book has come to pass: promotion. One could accuse me of being conceited, but I hate the prospect of the need to convince anyone of my abilities as a raconteur. In those situations where I must ask for someone’s fleeting attention, I feel like a pauper who has a bowl empty of porridge, begging someone to please give me some more. However, it seems that my reputation has not kept pace with my abilities. So, due to this unfortunate situation, I needed to be proactive and find out how to get the word out about my book Blowing the Bridge. It seemed like going online was the next best step.

I love the idea of experimentation, especially with the idea of comparing a mainline campaign versus a specialized campaign. Of course, I thought GoodReads would be the winner (since GoodReads is a site about books), but I wanted to prove that as the case. So, I started by throwing down $50 on both Google Adwords (starting a few days ago) and GoodReads’ version of the same (starting a few weeks ago). I used the same keywords for both searches, and I used the same bidding price for clicks. When it comes to the ease of use, GoodReads does present a fairly easy interface to promote one’s book. It’s limited in options, but you can get the job done within a few minutes. Google Adwords, on the other hand, is the exact opposite. As an analogy, imagine that GoodReads is Microsoft Photoshop and that Google Adwords is AutoCAD…in Esperanto. The Google Adwords console represents an abstract framework, with various online controls that leverage the power to advertise and the ability to cause an oncoming headache. Google detected my fluctuating EEG and presented me with a link to Aleve, which I naturally clicked without hesitation. I, for one, welcome our heartless online overlords.

After a few weeks of advertising on GoodReads, my ad received 34407 viewings, but I got only 4 clicks. That leads to a click-through rate of 0.02%. That’s fairly dismal, if you ask me. On the other hand, with Google Adwords, I received 28531 viewings after only 4 days, and of that number, there were 80 clicks. That’s a click-through rate of 0.28%, nearly 14 times the amount compared to Goodreads. Curious as to how to interpret these results, I asked for the viewpoint of my fiancée, who is both an avid reader and a student of marketing.

For one, she said that there’s more of an error rate for clicks when people are using Google, enough to significantly reduce the confidence level of its click-through rate (i.e., CTR). So, let’s be safe and assume that half of the clicks were mistakes, leaving the CTR at 0.14%. Still, that’s much better than the results with GoodReads. She also made another interesting observation as one who is very familiar with the GoodReads community. Unbeknownst to me, she told me how GoodReads is more of a haven for erotic literature than anything else. (Translation: it’s a chick site.) Of course, as she explained, there were several other genres whose fans nested there, but that’s the big one. Basically, since most of the site is occupied by several hardcore (pun-intended) demographics, the chances of reaching my audience (i.e., fans of contemporary satire) were greatly reduced.

So, what did I learn? If you’re looking to create a quick-and-dirty advertising campaign for a book and can handle a slight learning curve in order to ramp up, go with Google Adwords. However, if you’re looking to truly find your audience, you’ll need to do some detective work in order to find the right venue. The Web has created a nook and cranny for every different palate, and if you’ve created something a little different, you will have to start looking under rocks to find your initial audience. So, essentially, I’ve learned that I have some more work to do. Plus, I’ve also found the place where I can go to get my literary fix of incest and dino-human porn. Many thanks, GoodReads.

So, after a few months of diligence, I finally wrote my first book Blowing the Bridge. It was nothing extravagant; it’s just a humorous novella that’s mostly autobiographical. However, since I’m normally a lazy bastard, I’m proud of it. Of course, the next step was to actually publish it. Curious about all the platforms of which I should target, I wasn’t surprised when I found the following percentage estimates when it came to eBook market share:

60% Amazon (KDP)
25% Barnes & Noble (NookPress)
10% Apple (iBooks)
5% Other

Since those top 3 cover around 95% of the market, it made sense to only target those top 3. After playing around with all three platforms, I can try to describe each one here:

1.) Amazon (KDP) – Obviously, since it’s the dominant player, you’d be foolish to not consider publishing on this platform. In terms of technical obstacles, the publishing process is fairly straightforward, as long as your book follows a normal format. You do have options if you wish to deviate from the norm and create a funky layout for your book, but you’ll have to follow Amazon’s strict guidelines in order to make that happen. In addition, a great part of the platform is the responsiveness of the service; more than likely, your book will be approved and placed on the store within 12 hours. On the downside, Amazon doesn’t really assist in the creation of your book; it’s strictly going to publish whatever is uploaded in the document which contains your book. On a side note, I did find one thing particularly annoying. As you attempt to publish your book, they will constantly push their KDP Select program, which pays double the royalties of their default program…and which also requires you to publish only within the Kindle store. That part is mentioned only briefly, but they keep flashing those big royalty increases in your face. It’s a tad sneaky.

2.) Barnes & Noble (NookPress) – Since it’s #2, it’s still worth publishing on this platform. For nascent authors, though, NookPress might be the ideal choice. You can forego writing your own document, since the platform has provided an editor within their site. The editor helps you to write pages, organize chapters and material, upload multimedia, and join/collaborate with a community of other online authors (which supposedly assist each other). The option to upload your book from a document on your computer is also available. Formatting options are on the table, but they are more limited than the ones available on KDP. On the downside, the site’s support isn’t exactly quick when it comes to inquiries or troubleshooting. Plus, if you submit a book to be published, don’t expect your book to be put onto the store any sooner than several days. In some cases, it might be a week or more.

3.) Apple (iBooks) – At #3, you might ask yourself if you should even care. However, it’s still a chunk of the market, so it’s worth some attention. In any case, being Apple, they eschew Web applications. Just like everything else, their walled garden only embraces native applications and a specific procedure. In order to publish on their store, you won’t be able to use their web site alone (as with Amazon and Barnes & Noble). First, you will need to create an Apple ID. (Special note: if you already have an Apple ID but it’s used for creating apps, you’re going to need to create a second one for books. As if your life needed more confusion.) Second, you will need to download iTunes Producer, which is an application which enables you to make submissions. I’m midway through this process, but for being #3, you would think that Apple would make this process less cumbersome. In any case, even though I’m not yet finished, I can say that this process will definitely tax your patience. I would only recommend it for those who can’t live with themselves unless their book is 3 for 3 in availability.

Well, there’s a brief overview of the platforms for publishing online. Now, you’re more aware…and knowing is half the battle. Or so a cartoon solder told me one time while I was eating some Doritos.

So, aside from being a while since I’ve written anything on this blog, it has been almost a year since I wrote about my attempts at creating an app on the Microsoft Store. (There have been a good number of blog entries since January, but most of them have been removed and repackaged into a book which I’ve written.) Of course, as most people already know, the Surface and the Surface Pro were an abysmal failure. Who would have thought that you need software to help sell a device? Or that you would need a developer-friendly environment to help create an app ecosystem? Or that not really paying attention to your customers and then being indecisive about your policy regarding the XBox One would make you look incompetent and indecisive? At this point, we can assume that the suits at Microsoft are actually asking these questions of themselves, still not grasping the “why” of these questions.

Now, I’m not one to gloat…okay, yes, I am exactly the type who would gloat, and I am going to do so now. Even though I’m strictly a software engineer, I find life to be far more rewarding (in every way possible) when I endeavor to be as much of a polymath as possible. I try to find the truth under every possible rock and from every possible sane person I can listen to. When you’re a suit, THAT SHOULD BE YOUR FUCKING JOB. In addition to developing your own sophisticated point of view, it behooves you to start listening to other intelligent people, in the hopes that you might actually learn something of merit which may correct your own mistakes. At your level of responsibility, your life should revolve around trying to understand any given topic or situation from every possible angle. That’s why you get paid your high salary. That’s how you can effectively employ a strategy and not have it blow up in your face. I’m just a simple software guy, but aside from me, many other “simple” software guys (including those who work for Microsoft’s suits) probably saw all of this impending doom from miles away, spoke of it, and were promptly dismissed by Ballmer and company. If I were a top suit at Microsoft, I would hang my head in shame. It especially feels good to know that I could do your job, if I actually wanted to.

Now, having said that…how can Microsoft resurrect this dead dog? With Ballmer now heading out, there seems to be some hope. It’s still too early to tell, since the successor(s) could be even worse. However, if the company tries to integrate its own disparate pieces, there could be hope of something down the line. In order for that to work, though, there must be a shared vision. You can’t create a walled garden like Apple unless you have a cohesive plan. More than anything, it takes a different mentality, a competitive determination which comes from being at the bottom of a pile of defeat, much like Apple in 1997. You need to be hungry. For now, it seems that Microsoft still has a full belly and a plate full of goodies, so they’re not too worried…but so was Dell and Blackberry at one point, until they became the victims of their own self-created famine.

A colleague of mine (who we will assign the moniker of Steve), much braver than I, heard about my story of attempting to create an account on the Microsoft App Store (apparently we can all legally use that now), and he decided to take up the quest to which I had yielded. After a couple of weeks, he came back to me and told me the details of his misadventure. Apparently, it was much worse than I could have imagined. Steve became intimately acquainted with the stupidity of their business plan, and it went farther than both of us could have imagined. At the very least, I am comforted to know that I’m not the only victim out there, since misery truly does love company.

So, Steve ran into some of the same problems as I had before, especially the impasse where one has to prove the existence of their company to Symantec. (I still don’t understand why Microsoft outsourced these services to an anti-virus software company, but nothing seems to make sense in this entire process.) In this case, Steve chose the last option: to fill out the forms in front of a notary. Well, let me be correct: that’s what he told them. Now, he used an interesting method to “create” his notarization, and I don’t feel comfortable divulging that level of detail without his consent…but let’s just say that it was a clever trick. In any case, he had his stamped forms, and he informed Symantec that they were complete. How would they like to receive them? By scanning them and sending them via email, they replied. Of course, the impression portion of the stamp couldn’t be detected by a scanner. So, their suggestion was to use the old “rub-the-side-of-a-pencil-against-the-impression” technique in order for it to become visibly detected and then copied by the scanner. I swear on my life that I’m not chewing on peyote right now. They actually said that.

At this point, we have to turn our attention from the stupidity of Microsoft to the stupidity of Symantec. Now, if I’m correct, Symantec is a company known for security. For security! Steve created his notarization with a method that could be employed by children; I think that I saw it once on Yo Gabba Gabba. However, for me, that’s not the most troubling aspect of their validation process. By accepting a simple scan of the stamped forms (with the classic shading technique learned from Encyclopedia Brown), it shows one important thing: that the creator of Symantec’s verification process has apparently never heard of Photoshop or of any other product made by Adobe. Since Symantec doesn’t seem to know anything about security in general, I suppose that everything does seem to fit together.

So, having been validated by the elitist bouncer behind the virtual velvet rope, Steve found himself at the stage where he needed to provide his tax information. Like me, he had created his own LLC, and he had obtained an EIN for his company through the requisite government web sites. (An EIN is the federal identity number that one can use on behalf of a business for tax purposes. Think of it as a Social Security number for your company.) With the app stores of other companies, you can simply use the EIN without any issue…but by merely accepting it here, we would interrupt Microsoft’s nearly-flawless streak of fucking up unto this point. There was no way that they weren’t going to aim for the gold.

So, after attempting to use his EIN, Microsoft informs him that it is invalid. Why? No particular reason; it’s just invalid. (And, no, that’s not infuriating or frustrating in any way.) Undeterred, Steve used his own Social Security number instead, and the subsequent dialog box reported that his tax identity had been accepted…right before he was brought to the main screen of his (now) blocked account, where he is informed that his SSN is actually an invalid tax identity. There is no contact information, no proposed way of resolving the issue…just a screen that implies you have wasted a portion of your life. Admirably, his perseverance remained stolid, and he corresponded with them through emails over a span of days (yes, actual days). Finally, the answer came to him: the EIN was not accepted for some unknown reason (no, they don’t know why), and once tax information has been submitted (even if it ends up being garbage by accident), the account can longer be edited since the tax information becomes read-only. By looking at online forums, he found his resolution: he would need to repeat the process and create a new account, using his Social Security number on the first try.

I have to give it to Microsoft…they have created a masterpiece here. I’ve read of various psychological experiments which were designed to evoke the darker aspects of the human mind and bring them to the surface, to test the limits of human sanity. The Stanford Prison Experiment, the Milgram experiment, Project MKULTRA…when we look back in the future, they will all be mere child’s play compared to the creation of a Microsoft App Store account. On a final note, Steve finally did create his account, but as a form of vengeance, he submitted his problem to their support (along with a few invented curveballs). After weeks of his slight misdirection and due to their own horrible auditing systems, they still have yet to come to any conclusion of any kind, running around in perpetual, concentric circles. Steve could not be more pleased.

So, while doing my monthly check of the latest statement for my credit card, I noted the small amounts which inevitably create a sum that also doubles as a gestalt of financial disbelief, and I came upon the Microsoft charge from the debacle of last month (i.e., Part 1). After the immediate fit of vitriolic glossolalia had passed, I looked over the statement to find the refund which had been promised to me…and I did not find it. As incredulous as it was, after repeated scans over the statement, after multiple denials of the situation, it became clear that they had failed to do the one act of repentance for their stupidity. Knowing myself, I was not going to let this transgression pass without being challenged. I gritted my teeth as I prepared to face the bureaucratic nightmare that surely awaited me. So, I donned whatever armor that I could find, and it was once more unto the breach (of sanity), dear friends.

I started with the official number for Microsoft support, and I was immediately greeted with another voice recognition system that we have all come to despise. Usually, most systems will provide you with the unspoken, default option of pressing ‘0’ if you wish to bypass the monstrosity. Microsoft, though, will not let you off so easily; there’s less fun and amusement to be had without your active participation. After pressing ‘0’ and immediately being disconnected, I called back and proceeded to navigate the maze of options presented to me, much like a good mouse does in a maze…except, in this case, there is no cheese, but if you’re lucky, you may be returned a small sliver of your dignity. Upon completing the options and waiting for a few minutes, a polite woman greeted me, and she asked how she could help me. I briefly explained what had happened a few weeks ago, and I complained about the lack of the promised refund. She apologized to me, but she said that she could not help me. Instead, I would need to call the Microsoft Developer Network (i.e., MSDN) center. And all that I could think of was “And so it begins…”

So, upon being provided with the number for MSDN by the polite lady, I called them instead, and a “dude” (not “The Dude”, but perhaps a distant cousin) answered the phone, sounding as if he had been just woken from a nap. I again explained the situation and the lack of a promised refund. Sounding as if he had just celebrated the recent legalization measure in Washington, he reported to me that he could not help me either. As it turns out, the new Windows App Store initiative falls under the MSDN “umbrella”…but it actually exists as an autonomous entity. Feeling the bile once again percolating, I asked for the phone number of this mysterious shadow organization. Idiot that I happened to be for expecting one, he relayed that it had no phone number; instead, it only had a web site address. When I asked him to explain what was at this address, he verbally shrugged his shoulders.

Third time is the charm, right? Or it just a multiple of 3? I was prepared for either one, and following the provided URL, I made my way to the site of the Windows App Store, where I finally then found the support page of my quest. Strangely, though, there was no phone number, email address, or other suggested way of directly contacting them. Instead, I was allowed to provide a phone number, with which they would then call you. I realized that I was less at a support page and more at an altar, where I could summon spirits and demons with a phone number instead of a sacrificial dead animal. Placing my phone number on the altar, I prayed to the Gang of Four that they would hear my prayers, and after a few tense seconds, a call did come to me. I had made contact with the other world.

This man sounded like he had recovered well from the celebrations in Seattle, and he spoke to me with better clarity. Again, I explained the entire situation, and finally, he told me that I had found my salvation, for he could exorcise the demon that would not leave my credit card. After the kind spirit removed the financial blight from my card’s soul, I thanked him…but before he went back to his ethereal plane, though, he imparted one revelation: I should never have been charged in any case. It seems that if you already have a MSDN account (which I do), you were supposed to automatically receive a Windows App Store developer account, free of charge, as a benefit of being a MSDN member (which, as it turns out, is absolutely true). For some reason, at this point, I couldn’t stop laughing when he told me. This comedy of errors was something to which even Shakespeare would say “Come on, this shit can’t be real.” Yes, Bill…I’m afraid it is.

After disconnecting from my spiritual guide, I looked over my emails a few minutes later, and I discovered another recruiter email which had been sent via LinkedIn. Ever since joining and creating a profile on the LinkedIn site, I have received (along with undoubtedly many others) a steady stream of inquiries from recruiters, and after discovering that most of them are headhunting hacks (one asked me if “I was in the game”, which of course deserves no answer), I have the default reaction of deleting them. Occasionally, though, I will get one that deserves some attention due to being from a particular company or due to having a particular headline. This one, in particular, had both. It was an email from a Microsoft recruiter, and specifically, it asked if I would be interested in becoming a tech evangelist for the Windows App store. It had to be that my recently disconnected spirit had told some deities about what happened, and they had arranged for such an email of ridiculous timing. What else could explain this except for the intervention of gods who amuse themselves by tormenting mortals? So, I did what anybody with a penchant for passive-aggressive behavior would do: I replied along with the link to my first post here. As of yet, I have not received a response from him…and I would be inclined to believe that I never will.

For those who have not had any experience with the naivety of some technological creators and/or researchers, you may not have heard of the term “spherical cow”. In that case, I’ll paste the generic form of the joke that you can find on Wikipedia:

“Milk production at a dairy farm was low, so the farmer wrote to the local university, asking for help from academia. A multidisciplinary team of professors was assembled, headed by a theoretical physicist, and two weeks of intensive on-site investigation took place. The scholars then returned to the university, notebooks crammed with data, where the task of writing the report was left to the team leader. Shortly thereafter the physicist returned to the farm, saying to the farmer ‘I have the solution, but it only works in the case of spherical cows in a vacuum.’ ”

If you’ve ever been in the presence of academia or some suit without a clue, then you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. I’ve tried to circumnavigate around all such stupidity, but I haven’t been able to totally escape it. Even when I ensconce myself with dead animal carcasses, it still uses its superior tracking skills, and it finds me. For example, I’ve changed modes of transportation over the years in an effort to find a more efficient one, switching from bus to train to bus…only to have some bureaucratic idiot follow my every step, using his Pollock-like brush stroke to arbitrarily change the implementation of that route (and, consequently, smear the living shit out of my plans).

Recently, it’s come to my attention that I have developed a habit of snoring. In fact, it comes to my attention fairly often, since it usually comes in the form of being hit with a pillow in the middle of the night. Of course, I don’t mind such a gentle reminder; I’m just glad that the pillow has a cushion in it instead of being filled with nails. However, not wanting to be smacked with nocturnal pillows for eternity, I decided to seek assistance from professionals, and in order to help me, they recommended a sleep study. Then, unknowingly climbing into the spherical cow suit, I ventured forth to my own personal form of hell.

The point of a sleep study is to observe and record your sleep, so that a doctor can create a diagnosis for your particular problem while sleeping. Up until this point, everything makes some sense. The implementation, however, is a whole different animal. Now, I don’t know who designed sleep studies, but I would virtually guarantee that they’ve never actually experienced one, since it actually works against an important goal of the study: to sleep. When my doctor first told me about the sleep study, I envisioned a place which was made entirely of pillows. Yes, even the walls were plush! And you would be fed a full meal with a dessert of marshmallow-flavored sedatives…A place built for sleep. I’ll tell you that it’s quite the opposite. You’re placed in a clean room with minimum furnishings and a hard bed. There are cameras and microphones in every corner, recording your moves and sounds. Just before laying down, sensors with attached wires are glued all over your body and head and into your nose (Wireless? When do you think we are, the 21st…oh right), and those sensors are then wired into a harness (with more wires) wrapped around your body. Finally, as you lay down to sleep, the harness is then plugged into a device next to the bed, which gets pushed and pulled if you move around. So, in order to avoid that and unplugging any wires, just lay still and relax. (And, no, we’re not a pharmacy; we can’t give you anything to sleep. Even NyQuil. It’s a legal thing.) Now, go to sleep, you stupid cow.

Sounds tranquil, doesn’t it? I promise you that it’s every bit as much fun as it sounds and more. So, as I tossed and turned (by only several degrees, since I didn’t to unplug anything) the whole night to a morning devoid of any rest, my anger raced towards the question “how”. How could this have passed as the way of doing this? Who in their right mind would have accepted this form of observation? But, more importantly, who had the conscience to design such a horrible form of torture? I thought about it, and it became clear: probably some of the same people who I went to school with. The same people who build things without relating to their creations and/or users. The people who don’t create or innovate solutions; they only implement them. And that’s the problem: it’s just fun to build things. And it’s so much simpler when you don’t have to really care about them. You just build them and walk away.

After “waking up” (Is it waking up when you start counting down until when the alarm clock goes off?) , dressing myself, and then leaving with a hunger for breakfast and the desire to commit arson/defenestration, I began to grok the nature of bad design and to question myself in the process. Do I build things without some form of attachment and/or emotional involvement? I like to think that I never do that…but that’s not true. Sometimes it is fun to simply build something and then to nonchalantly skip away, sometimes with pigtails. Because I like wigs. But that’s beside the point…In the end, I can still curse out the designers of sleep studies; I’m not forgiving them. Are you crazy? What I can say, though, is that I need to use this lesson to remind myself about being vigilant against distraction, to create things with myself and/or my users in mind, and to make my projects a part of myself. I’ve designed and built things which were both fun to create and which were probably of some use to people…but in the end, it was a halfhearted attempt at creation. I should design things that mean something to me, that I would want to use. In fact, it should be something that I DO want to use! I should build something with the idea in mind that I will use this someday…and I look forward to it. So, thanks, designers of the sleep study…you reminded me to be a better person. Now go back to your favorite activity of engineering a better torture chamber for round bovines.

After spending nearly two decades in software development, I like to think that I have a credible viewpoint.   My projects have run the gamut, from Windows platforms to UNIX platforms, from desktop programs to server daemons, from C++ builds to PHP pages, from PC applications to mobile apps.   The latter has been a hobby of mine in the last few years, as mobile apps have become a booming industry with the advent of smartphones.   Since I strive to reach my lofty and unattainable goals of being the uber polymath (or, in this case, a “polytechie”), I have dabbled with a few of the mobile platforms available, and I have participated in the submission of various apps (iOS, Android, etc.) for various different stores.  I won’t say different “app stores” since Apple might dispatch one of its iMinions to rip out my tongue for “blasphemy”.  In any case, as I have gained experience with these various “storefronts” (or whatever term Apple will permit of me), I have noticed a certain normalcy when it comes to how they are executed; in effect, without any intention, these storefronts almost operate according to a certain kind of standard.  Standards, even if loosely adhered to, are a wonderful source of comfort for any developer…which is why, when I tried to create a developer account on the Microsoft storefront, my expectations placated me into a sense of false security, leaving my sensibilities unprotected for the ass-raping which was about to happen.

Before coming to the Microsoft storefront, I had seen the commercials as many others had.  I saw the various adverts which featured the new Surface device and Windows 8.  The device appeared innovative and different, and after playing with Windows 8, I was impressed by its performance and easy usability.  Since I have always been agnostic when it comes to platforms, I had never been one of those developers who were automatically detractors when it came to anything by Microsoft.  I knew that unlike a decade ago, Microsoft was no longer the alpha gorilla;  in fact, more and more, it’s starting to look like a cute chimpanzee.  Of course, as in the case with Microsoft, we all know that chimpanzees can bite your face off if you drop your guard, but for some reason, you can never really take them too seriously.  They’re just so damn cute!  Seriously, if you don’t think chimpanzees are cute, you are a fucking asshole.  But I digress…In any case, for the last few years, I’ve started to think of them as the underdog, and after watching their noticeable progress during the past year, I started to pull for them.  I really, really did.  I had my fingers crossed…right before it became just my middle one.

So, when I first came to the Microsoft storefront, I was required to register and provide the basic information that every storefront asks of a prospective app developer.  After spending the first few minutes of filling out forms by rote (much like you do at every doctor visit in your life), I came upon the step within the process which asks for your form of payment.  Since Apple requires a fee of $99 in order to participate in their developer program (and to hold your app hostage by threatening to decapitate it without payment), I wasn’t surprised by this one initially…until we got to the exact method of how I would be paying them.   (Unbeknownst to me, I was now participating in a complex financial transaction which had been engineered by a lunatic.)  After providing them with my credit card, they informed me that I would need to prove that I was indeed the owner of this card.  My immediate thought, in reaction, was “Is there a market for developers who want to buy stolen credit cards?”  After all, I thought that people who used stolen credit cards purchased perishables and the latest Nike shoes.  What do I know, though…maybe there’s a gangsta-developer culture out there that I don’t know about.  “My dick is gonna be recursive in yo’ ass, motherfucka!  I’m the O(N-word), bitch!”   Okay, I’m done for now…So, I went with it.  They told me that I would receive a micropayment and that I would need to verify that amount by reporting it back to them.   Fine…I’m annoyed…but fine…

So, I log onto the Web site of my credit card, and I discover that my credit overlords are overly protective, in that they have rejected the micropayment.  “Who is this strange company called ‘Microsoft’?  Nope…I don’t trust ’em.”   Strangely, though, I noticed something more important: almost immediately after the micropayment had been rejected, I had been billed by Microsoft for $99.  At that moment, I knew that I was going to have a bad day.  As planets can align to form a special kind of eclipse, the poor execution of two companies had lined up to form the perfect halo of stupid, which was now destined to burn a hole through my brain if I dared to look at it.  I should have looked away…but I couldn’t.  (By the way, if you’re looking to steal from me, you should know only two important things.  One, if you’re looking to charge my account in order to get cash, remember to go big; my credit card company only rejects small amounts.  Two, if you do steal my card, you can create as many Windows developer accounts as you can possibly want.)

Even though I was now weighed down by the sadness of disappointment and sticky with stupid on the soles of my feet, I decided to trudge onward.  I’m not one to simply retire in the face of adversity…that, and I’m a stubborn, stupid bastard.   I dismissed the financial aspect of this tragedy, optimistic that the remainder of this experience would be more positive.   Convinced that I could resolve the credit card issue in the near future, I looked to complete the account where it was possible to do so.  So, I proceeded to the following step.  Next hurdle: the validation of me and my company.

I had already formed a single-member LLC just for app development, and I had no problem with providing its credentials.  The validation of my company…okay…so, what does that entail?  It seems that it required a conversation and/or an online chat with Symantec.  Up until this point, the red flag had been flying near the middle of the mast, but with this step, it went right to the top.  I gritted my teeth as my thoughts raced toward anger.  “Really, Microsoft?  Have you done any homework at all and simply exposed yourselves to the storefronts of other companies?  Because NOBODY requires this nonsense.   Can’t you just validate the existence of a company by requiring an EIN, like everybody else does?  What the fuck are you…”  Okay, I told myself…okay…calm down.  This will just take a few minutes.  In that moment (and especially since I abhor analog conversations), I chose the online chat.

Despite the sensation of bile percolating somewhere in my depths, I started an online chat session with Symantec.  They politely greeted me, and after I explained my situation, they proceeded to validate me.  I’ll paraphrase our conversation, but for all intents and purposes, the following is what transpired during our chat:

Symantec: “Okay, let’s get that going for you.  Okay, I just looked at your email address.   You’re gonna need to change that.”

Me: “Huh?”

Symantec: “Yes, you will need to have a domain with the same name as your company.”

Me: “Really?!?”

Symantec: “Yes.  And you’ll need to create several email accounts under this new domain.”

Seething, I went to my host provider, bought the domain, and created the required email accounts under it.  (For a brief moment, I had thought about buying “www.mycompanyname-wants-to-donkey-punch-microsoft.com”, but I had a feeling that it would only be rejected due to being too long for their table’s column.)   Afterwards, I went back to Symantec and tried to continue:

Me:  Okay, I bought the domain.  So, we’re good now?

Symantec: Okay, we’re definitely getting there.  Now, let me see…hmm…I can’t find you in the Yellow Pages.

(In the Yellow Pages?  Are those still around?  And what if there had been another company with the same name…would you still have validated me?  You stupid assholes…)

Me:  Uh…no…I definitely wouldn’t want that, anyway.  My company is just me…and I’m not going to put my number in the Yellow Pages.

Symantec:  Oh, I see.  Well, there are other options to validate your company.  One, we can assign you to Company X, who will profile your company and produce a report based on it.  For a fee, of course.

(Wait…so the company who was going to validate me is outsourcing themselves?  And I have to pay more money?  Is there a deed to the Brooklyn Bridge involved in this transaction somewhere?)

Me:  Uh…no.  That doesn’t work either.

Symantec:  Okay, no problem.  We’ll just send you some forms that you’ll need to fill out…

Me: Oh, okay.  Yeah, no problem.  You can send them to this email address…

Symantec: …within the presence of a public notary, so that he can stamp them.

Me: Are you serious?

Symantec: Yes.

I don’t remember exactly what happened in the few moments afterwards.  There was a cavalcade of explosions in my brain as it struggled to hold onto reality.  What moron had created this process which would virtually guarantee that independent developers would want to spit venom?  What idiot still didn’t understand that the idea of storefronts was to welcome software developers, big and small?  What asshole had not bothered to study the existing storefronts of today and warn prospective developers that “Hey, we are really super serious about this credentials stuff.  Be prepared to send us your semen and blood in some plastic bags if we ask for it.”?  At that point, I couldn’t take it anymore.  After having a heated discussion with support, I got a full refund of the money which shouldn’t have been taken in the first place…but that would have required something during this whole process which wasn’t a fuck-up.

As I closed my stillborn account, I dwelled on the thoughts before this valiant attempt with Microsoft, and I sadly shook my head.  Despite any progress that has been made there, Microsoft is still the old-guy-with-the-monocle in the room.    They were still a relic of the past, a dinosaur that didn’t understand its new role in being a paragon of anachronism and in being the punchline of so many jokes.  Was part of the problem letting a bald, arrogant math major (with no experience in software development) run the world’s most powerful software company, even after a decade of horrible decisions?   Yeah, I could see that being part of the problem.  Could it be a problem with the public’s perception of the company, especially after having the worst portfolio of commercials amassed by a single company?  I would agree with that one, too.  (What the hell was that Seinfeld commercial about anyway?  And why did Gates look like he had been kidnapped and forced to do it?)  It could be those reasons and many others.  Even though I know that it stems from the prepubescent side of me, I’ve always rooted for the underdog, and, yes, they’re the underdog these days…but maybe people are right.  Maybe you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.