We all know at least one GUI Jock. That one guy who knows how to, say, run a complex query on the content management system, or export data from the annoying sales database front-end or actually get new data into what qualifies as "the system" where you work. He is a master of tools that appear obscure, but are in fact just a pain in the neck. He is not writing firmware for the space shuttle; he is changing the background gradients in your marketing dashboard.

The GUI Jock is a paradoxical figure. Indispensable and yet undervalued, he owes his livelihood to the ferocity of the beast he tames. The sheer number and complexity of pull-down menus, check-boxes, obscure options, software bugs, and poor user interface choices created by an external software vendor. The GUI Jock conquers them all—he is a human compiler who receives requests in the loose and informal language of the outsider and compiles them to the standards demanded by expensive enterprise software.

But how did he find himself in this position? Ironically, he may have fallen into this unfortunate role by being good at a few ad hoc requests which he likely completed under the assumption that he would soon be moving on to more interesting work. But now he is stuck in a trap that he helped build and of which others are afraid. He is there to fall on the grenade that is lousy software, poor documentation, and bad process so the rest of the organization can go about its job without another hassle. The GUI Jock suffers so we do not.

What can be done?

In my experience the GUI Jock is usually not happy with his lot. If you know him you are probably aware that he can be a grouch and he has probably sighed in your presence more than once (if you don't know him, he might be you). But can we set him free?

A typical response is training. Grab a conference room for a few hours, set up a projector and show the junior staff just how to hold that chair while taming the beast known as the "InsiteDynaMetrix CollaboStream(tm)". The juniors sit and nod, happy to have such a big block of their day accounted for. In my experience, the success rate of this approach is woefully low. It can backfire, basically serving to train attendees to know who exactly the GUI Jock is and that they should funnel all relevant requests directly to his inbox.

To protect itself, the organization demands that the GUI Jock stay in his role. He is the only person who will save himself. He has a few options:

• Sucker a new employee into the role. New employees are eager to please and crave the recognition of value that comes with being a GUI Jock. They are also too naive to see the quicksand.
• Increase the friction for people who lean on him. Ask for forms to be filled out, demand detailed requirements, and delay in delivering results. With enough process, these people may decide to serve themselves.
• Apply to graduate school.

Tasty Research's intern war stories have been doing the rounds at the usual suspect aggregation sites in the past few days. And jolly fine reading they are, too. I'm not sure how I'd handle the insane power of giving away free Xboxen to my pimply-faced peers at the tender age of 17, but it seems like the author has made it through with a modicum of humility still in place.

In my day, it would have been a Commodore 64 or a Spectrum. Which may have been a tad easier to hand out. We were grateful for access to any hardware, as personal computers were a bit thin on the ground. We were young, eager, and didn't give a hoot if low resolution game characters appeared blocky. Who cared if Manic Miner looked like he was painted with the end of a brick?

At this point old codgers usually gaze off into the distance, dab a misty eye, and say something along the lines of "those were the days". Are they nuts? I like it here in the future: tons of RAM, quad processors, snazzy mobile phones, digital cameras, and access to a Series of Tubes. This is much better, thank you.

The people who work at Juice share a similar tech view. And after seeing Tasty's MicroGooHoo perk comparison chart that got me thinking about what we dish out in the way of employee treats. I think we do pretty well for an outfit of our size and market cap (of zero dollars).

I added a couple of columns to the matrix explaining the World of Juice:

0. No onsite chefs, but if you're hungry, we'll feed you from any of the many restaurants near the office.
1. You're never far from natural light. Darkness is fine for mushrooms, but not for people.
2. Count the number of matches at exhibit one, two, and three. I rest my case.
3. This assumes you're sitting at a desk. Wouldn't you rather have a laptop and sit where you want?
4. We're not big enough!
5. See the last point.
6. We're run by humans, too. Everybody fears something.
7. Ah, we'd have to kill you if we told you. Soon, though.

In all seriousness, this is a bit of fun. We count the number of adjoining offices we have rather than buildings (or even floors). But, keeping with the serious theme, we really do pretty well. I've worked with very smart people at all three companies on the chart and I do know we have just as much brain power per capita.

Why not come and join us?

Poor old Mac Excel, it just don't get no respect.

It's different enough from PC Excel to strike uncanny valley fears into the unwitting. The next versions will exclude built-in VBA much to the chagrin of the Mac business faithful. The uproar reminds me of when Lotus announced it would pull LotusScript, a VBA-like language, out of its Notes program. People were openly revolting (although nothing was quite as revolting as Notes development).

So, if you don't have Parallels or the like, it's pretty much the only choice you've got on OS X. Sure, you can use Open Office, but that comes with its own peculiarities and incompatibilities.

One tip I'd like to share is how to silence this much maligned program. If you're using anything other than the built-in speakers on your Mac, you'll find that people in other parts of the office tend to jump out of their chairs when you hit Save. Mac Excel blings, clicks, and whirs with wild abandon.

You're just one click away from the sound of silence and passing this along is almost always met with "oh, you can do that?" squeaks of delight.

There's something rhythmically delicious about the haiku. It's a highbrow equivalent of a 3 frame cartoon as your thought needs to be a tight, right, and an exact fit. Purists like Chris (hokku anybody?) want to work in a reference to a kigo but in the great American spirit of borrowing and localizing ideas, I'll just march off in my own co-opted, local direction.

This morning at Juice HQ we stumbled on Wired's Very Short Stories and immediately fell in love. A lovely change of direction from the Haiku? Yes, the beloved Haiku makes you compose phonetically and maybe drum your fingers at the same time. The Very Short Story pulls your brain in a slightly different direction. How can the geeky amongst us not dig that?

So, which is it to be?

Economy: Controlled by giant balloon men?

or

Giant baloon men

control all the world's money?

Look behind, Japan!

(Original story at Spiegel and inspiration by this infographic.)

Human kind is doomed.

The earth looks like a grapefruit.

Segmented downfall?

(The full article is here.)