Happy Path

Restless

When I hit the six month mark, I was officially restless. It was springtime, a time for renewal, and I was at the point where I felt like I could perform my job as required. I knew where to find things, who to talk to and the flow of responsibilities. That meant it was time for one of two things to happen. Either I stepped forward, deeper into the waters of FinTech, and learned a bunch of new stuff like project management, testing and more about IT as it related to ABMs. Or, I said Thanks for inviting me to the party, but it's time for me to go home now. The choice was obvious. I was ready to go home.

I'd been anticipating this moment since November. I felt all along that I'd know when it was time to leave. Also, there were developments that made me nervous. I'd been added to some training and given some access that indicated forward progression and building momentum. It made me want to flee! My job was low-level and people naturally assumed I'd want to progress, move up, make more money. It was only natural to try and build my experience. Charles was the only one who knew I saw the job as a temporary, transitional placeholder. He was supportive of whatever I wanted, but also hoped I would come around to the idea of staying with the group. I had my end date in mind, but the push to move forward and take on more responsibility made me want to adjust that date. To my surprise, I didn't mind learning more about the numbers and administration side of the job. Those were practical skills I could use beyond a PCO FinTech position. But learning more about the tech stuff or becoming an ABM tester? No, thanks. I wanted to be inspired by my work, not enraged by it.

One newly-added responsibility was something called the Estimation Council. Richard had either volunteered or been designated to be the director who would represent the areas working under our Senior VP. Richard, in turn, designated me as point person on this pilot project. The idea was simple enough: use a standard form to estimate the effort, translated into a dollar amount, needed to complete a proposed project. However, the "logic" used to design and implement this form could be best described as misguided. Maybe it could also be described as asinine? Among other ridiculous attributes, it used more of The Bank and project management methodology and jargon that was unfamiliar to me. "T-shirt size" referred to the amount of effort involved in executing a task. Choices: very simple, simple, medium, high. Is it so difficult to just say it's high or low effort? And if you're going to use "t-shirt size", at least follow through with the metaphor and make the choices Small, Medium or Large! This program also performed some kind of internal calculations that skewed all the numbers entered. From the first time I was subjected to the tool, I hated it with every fiber of my being. As a bonus, I also had the privilege of trying to explain the system to other confused directors and their team members, while simultaneously demanding they submit weekly forms. The poor BA who was leading the council got numerous irate phone calls from me while I grappled with the project. He also told me that the tool was proposed and designed by someone who had been laid off before it was ever implemented. Meaning that its only advocate, and probably the only person who could truly explain its inner workings, wasn't even around! I can't remember whether that information caused me to hang up the phone without further comment or repeatedly bang my head on the desk. Probably both.

Although I'd grown accustomed to 2201, I was still reminded daily that I was out of my element. I was no stranger to technical innovation. I'd started my career in broadcasting as a shooter and editor. I'd kept up with advancements in the industry and was well familiar with the equipment used to run a tv station. But the cameras, playback machines, sound boards and edit suites had been replaced by labs full of laptops and ABMs. Tape ops and master control operators were now testers and coders. Any parallels I could draw were superficial, but my mind still tried to relate the banking world to one I already knew: the world of television.