Saturday, November 5, 2011
Traumatic Transitions and Architectures
Like a lot of marriages "made in heaven" (but broken/enabled by Social Network (as in Facebook, LinkedIn, MySpace..) reunions of onetime boyfriends or girlfriends), a distant friend of mine recently lost his bride to a former boyfriend from twenty years ago, that she renewed acquaintances with, on Facebook.
After going through the five classic stages of grief - Anger, Denial, Frustration, Acceptance and Healing - all in one week, my friend was faced with the inevitable division of assets: Where does one begin to start?
Well, he figured, divvying up the cash would be a good first step - after staunching further hemorrhage from the accounts and credit cards. Easy, huh? And after that was done he could go after the home, the mortgage, the cars, the furniture and the utensils.
The cash and liquid funds were easy - if only he could remember where he put his money and which accounts he had closed out. The credit cards were another matter. A number of them were still open in both their names and he was looking at a blank checkbook and months of free entertainment for his ex-wife and her lover at his expense if he did not shut them down. After frantically calling all the banks - he was hunting for phone numbers, contacts, bank timings, anything to speed up the process.
Two months later he was still not sure that he had them all but his anxiety attacks had turned into resignation and tiredness. He next took on the investments in brokerage accounts, mutual funds and the dreaded 401K and retirement savings accounts. He found that suspending them was easy but there were no distributions coming from those accounts. Four weeks later he was still wrestling with them.
In the meantime he had to deal with the photographs from twenty years of marriage and the joint memories of the children during happier times. It was time to make two piles: His and Hers. He painstakingly went through several thousands of photographs carefully separating them into either the Keep or Give up pile.
Of course the relentless pace of asset divestiture never slowed up. There was the furniture, the pictures on the wall, the knickknacks in the curio cabinet, the stamp collections, the collection of beer steins from his many business trips. Then there were the house payments, the mortgage, the equity in the house to deal with and the cost of repairs and modifications for a shrinking household.
In the midst of all this was also the emotional loss of losing his wife and child to, literally, a creation of the Internet. Maybe the marriage was already lost and Facebook simply delivered the coup de grace.
My friend does not want to remember how those crucial six months went, but somehow everything was completed and a divorce was granted. He is now on the prowl for the next spouse to fill his heart, his bed and the later years of his life on the planet.
Enterprises also go through marriages and divorces. They are called Mergers and Acquisitions and Divestitures. As much planned as opportunistic or as fait accompli, these events are seldom planned for. After the five classic stages of grief, comes the time for the enterprise to divide up the assets (Divestiture) or consolidate assets (M&A).
An enterprise architecture is essential to ease the transitioning that must follow. As my friend found out the hard way, those lists of accounts, credit cards, inventories of furniture and belongings, those catalogs of stamp collections and photographs are invaluable in performing the duties of transition.
After going through the five classic stages of grief - Anger, Denial, Frustration, Acceptance and Healing - all in one week, my friend was faced with the inevitable division of assets: Where does one begin to start?
Well, he figured, divvying up the cash would be a good first step - after staunching further hemorrhage from the accounts and credit cards. Easy, huh? And after that was done he could go after the home, the mortgage, the cars, the furniture and the utensils.
The cash and liquid funds were easy - if only he could remember where he put his money and which accounts he had closed out. The credit cards were another matter. A number of them were still open in both their names and he was looking at a blank checkbook and months of free entertainment for his ex-wife and her lover at his expense if he did not shut them down. After frantically calling all the banks - he was hunting for phone numbers, contacts, bank timings, anything to speed up the process.
Two months later he was still not sure that he had them all but his anxiety attacks had turned into resignation and tiredness. He next took on the investments in brokerage accounts, mutual funds and the dreaded 401K and retirement savings accounts. He found that suspending them was easy but there were no distributions coming from those accounts. Four weeks later he was still wrestling with them.
In the meantime he had to deal with the photographs from twenty years of marriage and the joint memories of the children during happier times. It was time to make two piles: His and Hers. He painstakingly went through several thousands of photographs carefully separating them into either the Keep or Give up pile.
Of course the relentless pace of asset divestiture never slowed up. There was the furniture, the pictures on the wall, the knickknacks in the curio cabinet, the stamp collections, the collection of beer steins from his many business trips. Then there were the house payments, the mortgage, the equity in the house to deal with and the cost of repairs and modifications for a shrinking household.
In the midst of all this was also the emotional loss of losing his wife and child to, literally, a creation of the Internet. Maybe the marriage was already lost and Facebook simply delivered the coup de grace.
My friend does not want to remember how those crucial six months went, but somehow everything was completed and a divorce was granted. He is now on the prowl for the next spouse to fill his heart, his bed and the later years of his life on the planet.
Enterprises also go through marriages and divorces. They are called Mergers and Acquisitions and Divestitures. As much planned as opportunistic or as fait accompli, these events are seldom planned for. After the five classic stages of grief, comes the time for the enterprise to divide up the assets (Divestiture) or consolidate assets (M&A).
An enterprise architecture is essential to ease the transitioning that must follow. As my friend found out the hard way, those lists of accounts, credit cards, inventories of furniture and belongings, those catalogs of stamp collections and photographs are invaluable in performing the duties of transition.
Get on the ball. Start building and maintaining your enterprise architectures!
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
The India Suitcase
Our family generally makes an annual or two yearly trip to the old home country. About two months before our planned day of departure, we open up an “India” suitcase - just an empty suitcase into which we put things to take to India when we remember them as we go.
As time goes on, the India suitcase is filled with miniature Hershey bars for the extended family, clothes for the immediate relatives, spices and saffron for Mom and all the little items of comfort from America that never seems to be available in India such as Cuddle Duds liners for the Bangalore “cold”.
Also going in are the wonderful travel conveniences we plan to carry. There are battery operated handheld fans to beat the heat; neck cushions to make the long journey a sleepy one - it is 21 hours of flying after all. There are voltage converters for the appliances we plan on using - but wait a minute - many of the electronics we carry around like an iPod, iPad or an iSomething all carry voltage sensors and change themselves to fit any international electric supply. We switch to plug adapters instead and throw in adapters for Europe, the UK, Australia and South Africa - just in case.
Then of course comes the decision to figure out what clothes to pack in - remembering that life still goes on and there are at least six more weeks to go. Should it be end of life clothing because of the spare laundry facilities -just take the clothes and leave them behind - or is it stuff that looks great but will probably not survive the stay and may be permanently interred in India? Weighty questions all, but with some magic process of decision making the suitcase does get filled.
More often than not, there is a telephone call or a knock on the door from some dear friends and some not so dear - Can you please take this package to India and give/mail/keep it for my close family members? I have left the package open for inspection (thoughtful friends) or I have sealed it up and left you vulnerable to the question, “Has someone given you something to carry?” (The Nike or Just Do It type of friends). Depending on the mood of the day, the closeness of the friendship and the need for magnanimous gestures, we generally say yes and in goes the package into the India suitcase.
Two days before zero hour we know we have a baggage problem. As we read up and down the airline website looking for crumbs of hope embedded in their baggage regulations, we are faced with the inescapable fact: Our fondly stuffed India suitcase is at least 20 pounds overweight if not more.
The first to go are the packages we have taken from friends. We use the escape clause we gave them when we accepted the package: “Only if there is space”. Luckily requests for mule carriage are presented usually twenty four to forty eight hours before and we can easily provide a tour of the India suitcase to show how physically impossible it is to fit the package amongst all the crowded neighbors in the suitcase.
Suddenly we remember that Indian electricity fluctuates and actually shuts off once a day in Bangalore as part of the power crisis supplying an exploding population. Out go the electronics - God forbid that they forget how to charge when we come back to the US.
The new clothes are next. After all, with the rains in Bangalore and the need to line dry the clothing, maybe the clothes will always remain damp - and smelly. Better to go with the end of life strategy, instead and pack those clothes we were planning to give to Purple Heart and the Salvation Army.
Next comes the candy reductions. Do we really need to carry 4 bags of miniature Hershey Bars? Especially when the baggage has to cross the Middle East and everyone knows how hot it is in the Middle East. Three bags are unceremoniously tossed out.
Freshly energized by the baggage carnage, we start cutting into the bone. We really don’t have the time to play tennis with my father in law. After all we will be travelling everywhere and seeing relatives and commuting back and forth from two house-holds - his and hers. Out goes the tennis racket and the gym shoes.
We are now getting close to the limit and are also looking at an austere trip doing the same things we always do with the same baggage we always carry. As we finally hoist the India suitcase on the weighing machine and note with satisfaction that we are under the limit by a pound, we smile. The anticipation of the trip, the landing at Bangalore in the middle of the night, the fast trip through deserted streets and the hot cup of coffee at home suddenly come into focus. The India suitcase has made it through another cycle of India planning.
Seems like software requirements are like the India suitcase.
As time goes on, the India suitcase is filled with miniature Hershey bars for the extended family, clothes for the immediate relatives, spices and saffron for Mom and all the little items of comfort from America that never seems to be available in India such as Cuddle Duds liners for the Bangalore “cold”.
Also going in are the wonderful travel conveniences we plan to carry. There are battery operated handheld fans to beat the heat; neck cushions to make the long journey a sleepy one - it is 21 hours of flying after all. There are voltage converters for the appliances we plan on using - but wait a minute - many of the electronics we carry around like an iPod, iPad or an iSomething all carry voltage sensors and change themselves to fit any international electric supply. We switch to plug adapters instead and throw in adapters for Europe, the UK, Australia and South Africa - just in case.
Then of course comes the decision to figure out what clothes to pack in - remembering that life still goes on and there are at least six more weeks to go. Should it be end of life clothing because of the spare laundry facilities -just take the clothes and leave them behind - or is it stuff that looks great but will probably not survive the stay and may be permanently interred in India? Weighty questions all, but with some magic process of decision making the suitcase does get filled.
More often than not, there is a telephone call or a knock on the door from some dear friends and some not so dear - Can you please take this package to India and give/mail/keep it for my close family members? I have left the package open for inspection (thoughtful friends) or I have sealed it up and left you vulnerable to the question, “Has someone given you something to carry?” (The Nike or Just Do It type of friends). Depending on the mood of the day, the closeness of the friendship and the need for magnanimous gestures, we generally say yes and in goes the package into the India suitcase.
Two days before zero hour we know we have a baggage problem. As we read up and down the airline website looking for crumbs of hope embedded in their baggage regulations, we are faced with the inescapable fact: Our fondly stuffed India suitcase is at least 20 pounds overweight if not more.
The first to go are the packages we have taken from friends. We use the escape clause we gave them when we accepted the package: “Only if there is space”. Luckily requests for mule carriage are presented usually twenty four to forty eight hours before and we can easily provide a tour of the India suitcase to show how physically impossible it is to fit the package amongst all the crowded neighbors in the suitcase.
Suddenly we remember that Indian electricity fluctuates and actually shuts off once a day in Bangalore as part of the power crisis supplying an exploding population. Out go the electronics - God forbid that they forget how to charge when we come back to the US.
The new clothes are next. After all, with the rains in Bangalore and the need to line dry the clothing, maybe the clothes will always remain damp - and smelly. Better to go with the end of life strategy, instead and pack those clothes we were planning to give to Purple Heart and the Salvation Army.
Next comes the candy reductions. Do we really need to carry 4 bags of miniature Hershey Bars? Especially when the baggage has to cross the Middle East and everyone knows how hot it is in the Middle East. Three bags are unceremoniously tossed out.
Freshly energized by the baggage carnage, we start cutting into the bone. We really don’t have the time to play tennis with my father in law. After all we will be travelling everywhere and seeing relatives and commuting back and forth from two house-holds - his and hers. Out goes the tennis racket and the gym shoes.
We are now getting close to the limit and are also looking at an austere trip doing the same things we always do with the same baggage we always carry. As we finally hoist the India suitcase on the weighing machine and note with satisfaction that we are under the limit by a pound, we smile. The anticipation of the trip, the landing at Bangalore in the middle of the night, the fast trip through deserted streets and the hot cup of coffee at home suddenly come into focus. The India suitcase has made it through another cycle of India planning.
Seems like software requirements are like the India suitcase.
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