After weeks of waiting, Bob finally received his long-awaited database access. He logged in with a mix of anticipation and skepticism. The access was only read-only, not the write access he had hoped for, but it was a start. Bob shrugged off the minor disappointment. For now, read access was enough. He wouldn’t need to make any changes or updates; his primary task was to sift through the data and get a clearer picture of what was really going on at Vandelay Trust.
The frustration with DevOps continued to simmer beneath the surface. It seemed the team had a knack for overestimating their timelines and consistently missing deadlines. It wasn’t a major crisis, but it was annoying. Bob was caught in a bureaucratic game where his ability to perform his job was often hampered by delays.
Despite these challenges, Bob was now able to delve into various data sources. He finally had access to Periscope, Metabase, Prometheus, Grafana and the rest of the system. The company’s digital ecosystem also integrated with Salesforce, Twilio, Google Analytics, and several other tools like Mixpanel, HubSpot, and Segment. Each of these platforms collected a different facet of data, from sales figures to user interactions, marketing metrics to customer support insights.
With a newfound sense of purpose, Bob opened Periscope and began exploring the graphs and dashboards. The clean, interactive interface displayed various metrics and visualizations. He started by examining the latest revenue reports, eager to see how the numbers aligned with the company’s claims.
His eyes widened in surprise as he noticed a discrepancy. The revenue graph on Periscope, ominously named “Revenue Adjustment Coefficient: Error Margin,” showed figures that were different than what had been reported by the company. Bob squinted at the screen, scrolling through different time frames and filtering the data, hoping to spot an error or misinterpretation. But the discrepancy persisted. The actual revenue didn’t match what the company had claimed to its employees.
Bob’s curiosity was piqued. He wondered why there was such a pronounced difference and why this particular graph existed. To get some clarity, he approached his junior colleague, Percival, who created the graph.
“Hey Percival,” Bob began, trying to sound casual. “I noticed this graph labeled ‘Revenue Adjustment Coefficient: Error Margin.’ Can you tell me what it’s used for?”
“Oh, that? It’s just a practice graph. Nothing important. We use it to practice rounding errors and stuff.” — said Percival while scratching his nose.
Bob wasn’t convinced. His instincts told him that there was more to this than Percival was letting on. “Okay, I’ll just delete it then,” Bob said, scanning for his junior colleague’s reaction.
Percival’s eyes widened in alarm. “Well, let’s just leave it here.”
He then started fidgeting with his shirt and quickly changed to a commanding tone:
“It’s mine — I’m the owner of that graph, and you don’t have the authority to delete it. I don’t delete your graphs and you shouldn’t delete mine.”
Bob raised an eyebrow. “Actually, yes, I do. It’s redundant, and I’ll be deleting it.”
Bob’s words were a bluff. He had no intention of deleting anything yet. Percival, clearly distressed, left the office in a hurry.
Bob had decided to investigate Percival’s graph more closely. He revisited the query behind the “Revenue Adjustment Coefficient: Error Margin” graph, diving into its structure and calculations. To his growing concern, Bob discovered that the query was not merely a tool for rounding practice as Percival had claimed. Instead, it was computing the discrepancy resulting from rounding up second decimal numbers on transactions.
As Bob worked to understand the implications of this finding, he noticed a new meeting notification on his calendar — a meeting with the CEO. Intrigued and with his concerns mounting, Bob attended the meeting, where the CEO broached an unexpected topic.
“I just wanted to touch base about Percival’s graph,” the CEO began. “I know you’ve been considering deleting it. I should mention that the graph is quite important to him. It’s a sort of trophy for him from his early days of learning SQL. He’s very proud of it, and it’s a symbol of his growth here.”
Bob was taken aback. “He’s still in his early days of learning SQL. Such tests are usually cleaned up as part of regular housekeeping. There are better places for him to save his favorite queries and snippets, like GitHub.”
“Yes,” the CEO continued, his tone carrying a hint of paternalism. “Percival is a bright young man with a lot of potential. The graph represents more than just data; it’s a token of his journey and growth. We’ve always valued his enthusiasm and his willingness to learn, even if the results aren’t always practical. Keeping this graph is a way of acknowledging his contributions and encouraging his development. It’s important for us to support our employees’ morale and show that we value their efforts, no matter how small or symbolic they might be.”
“Even if it is practically useless?” Bob asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes” — the CEO responded. “We need to support his growth and acknowledge his journey, even if it’s more about morale than utility. I have another meeting to attend, so I’ll leave it to you to figure out how best to handle it.”
Bob nodded, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that the graph’s continued presence was more about preserving Percival’s feelings than serving any real purpose. As the CEO left, it became increasingly clear that Percival was receiving special treatment, and the symbolic gesture was taking precedence over practical considerations.
To be continued…
