Workstation Hack: Visual Studio on 2 monitors

Having two monitors is an obvious improvement to any development workstation, but are there tricks for really effectively using all that extra acreage? I learned a great strategy from a co-worker for a two-monitor setup for Microsoft Visual Studio.

Hack Summary
Maximize the editor on one screen, and pull out all the floating windows (Solution Explorer, Error List, etc.) onto the second screen—which is great until you want to look at your database or your wiki or your work-in-progress app while also typing code. (If you're typing in the editor, Visual Studio is in front, which means all those little windows are in front of any other app you want to look at while coding.) The solution is to set up some shortcut keys that switch you from "Sprawl across two screens" mode to "Pull everything into one screen, dock the little windows, and make the second monitor available for other stuff" mode, and back.

Export Two Sets of Window Settings
You can save Visual Studio settings (such as window layout) to a file, and later import that settings file. For this hack, we'll export two settings files (one for two-screen, sprawl mode; one for one-screen, compact mode). Then, we can switch from one mode to the other by importing the appropriate settings file.

Get your windows how you like them in one-screen mode. For example, my Solution Explorer is a docked pane on the right, unpinned so that it auto-hides; and so on, for the handy windows I want at my fingertips. So, set those up.

Go to Tools > Import and Export Settings... > select the radio button for Export > click Next > uncheck All Settings > expand General Settings > check Window Layouts > click Next. Name the file (e.g., OneScreen.vssettings) and give it a location. Click Finish.

Now set up your windows in two-screen mode. Unhide a window by hovering over it, pin it, right-click on its title bar, and pick Floating. Drag it where you want. This is the artistic phase.

As above, export those settings, with a different name (e.g., TwoScreens.vssettings).

Create Two Switcher Macros
Add a macro module in the Macros IDE (Tools > Macros > Macros IDE), and create two macros, one to import each settings file. Here's my module, called WindowsSettingsSwitcher, which gets my settings files from C:\VSSettings\.

Imports System.IO
Imports EnvDTE
Imports EnvDTE80
Imports System.Diagnostics

Public Module WindowsSettingsSwitcher
    Public Sub SwitchToWinLayoutTwoScreens()
        DTE.ExecuteCommand("Tools.ImportandExportSettings", "-import:C:\VSSettings\TwoScreens.vssettings")
    End Sub

    Public Sub SwitchToWinLayoutOneScreen()
        DTE.ExecuteCommand("Tools.ImportandExportSettings", "-import:C:\VSSettings\OneScreen.vssettings")
    End Sub
End Module

You can test the macros from the Macro Explorer by double-clicking their names.

Assign Shortcut Keys to the Macros
Create some shortcuts that execute those macros. Tools > Options > expand Environment > click Keyboard. In the "Show commands containing" box, enter some text that will find your macros, e.g., "switchtowin" if you used my names above. Highlight a macro, put your cursor in the "Press shortcut keys" box, and type your shortcut. (Mine are Ctrl+Alt+1 for one-screen, and Ctrl+Alt+2 for two-screen, since those weren't in use by anything else.) I left the "Use new shortcut in" set to "Global." Click OK.

At this point, you can use your shortcut keys to switch modes. I added them to my View menu, too, mostly to give me a visual reminder of the shortcuts.

Add Switcher Commands to the View Menu
Tools > Customize > Commands tab > select the "Macros" category. Click and drag your macro from the Commands list in the dialog up to your toolbar. When you hover over View, the View menu will appear, showing the insertion point for your new command. Drop it in place. Right-click on the command in its new location, click on the Name box, and edit that down to something helpful (e.g., "OneScreen"). Repeat to add the other macro. Close the Customize dialog.


With this hack, you can keep lots of useful Visual Studio bits visible (liberating you from relying on the mouse to hover over auto-hiding windows, and maximizing your editor window), but stow them away quickly when you need the second screen for something else.

So how 'bout you? What are your workstation hacks?

Change your organization, or...

So here's the thing about being in a place that makes you depressed: You're too depressed to make the changes necessary to get out of the place. It can seem insurmountable. In eerily coincidental-sounding but utterly unrelated news (*cough*), I have a new job! You will certainly already know this if you've had occasion to see me bouncing off the walls lately. While some of my friends are content in their jobs, many are not, so I'll share my self-help program, in the hopes that it might console and inspire those who are wishing for a change.

I had been in the old job for 8 years, so even thinking about a change was scary. Here's what I did.

Believe.
You deserve a job that makes you happy.

Really, you do. You probably have a list of reasons why you need to stay at the place you're at, but look critically at those reasons. Put yourself into a five-year-old's mindset and ask "Why? …Why? …Why?" about each one. The reasons on my list, when I started doing some fact-checking out in the real world, turned out to be myths.

Throw rocks at that old adage, "…that's why they call it 'work.'" Pfft, whatever. If you're reading my blog, I'll assume you're a knowledge worker, and probably a programmer, and someone who likes to think about new ways of doing things. Lucky us, there are many lucrative careers for people who like to think. For me, writing software is like play—heck, it is something I do for play—so I didn't need to find a different line of work, just a different job that let me write software. You don't need to suffer to put bread on your table.

Network.
Get out there, walk amongst the people. If you're really sunk in the doldrums, this is probably the most tempting one to blow off, but here are some benefits: meet people with similar interests and challenges; dispel myths about the job market; find inspiration, in people who like their jobs, in people with passion; meet job prospects; become known for your ideas and contributions.

Networking and professional venues I find helpful: door64, AgileAustin, AgileATX, GeekAustin, Austin .NET User Group, classes, and my blog. Yeah, yeah, and LinkedIn.

Define the goal.
I developed a really clear list about what I wanted in an employer. Honed it, you might say. Took it out during meetings and quietly polished it. But this was helpful, because it gave me a concise list of interview questions to ask of my potential employers. The ultimate filter question, the one at the top of the list that immediately let me know whether it was even worth continuing, goes like this: "Do you like your job?"

Look for a yes. There are a ton of answers that are not yeses. I know, because I had years of delivering them myself. "It presents me with a lot of challenges. I get to work with people from all over the world, and I'm part of a great team." Yeah, but that wasn't a yes. I want to work in a place where it's possible to like your job.

Keep it positive.
No matter how bad it is, if you come off as a complainer, you will sour job prospects. Be diplomatic, and steer the conversation to what you're working towards, what you look for in the future.

Seek support.
To keep the gushing to a minimum, I'll simply say: My husband rocks. You've probably got someone, too, whether a sweetie or a best friend, a pen pal or your mom or your dog, someone who knows that you're awesome. This is a good time to trust that person (or dog), to let him or her know that you're embarking on something intimidating and you'd like encouragement through the journey. It helps to have a belayer.

Believe in yourself.
At my lowest, I believed that I had no useful, marketable skills; all I was good at was politicking my way through my employer's byzantine bureaucracy. I had to break out of that if I was going to even begin the process of moving elsewhere. (Or of getting a promotion, for that matter.) I got a big sheet of newsprint and a box of goofy-big crayons, I went into a room by myself and closed the door, and I brainstormed. Crazy, wild, unrelated ideas about what I do, what I'm capable of, and what I am that is awesome. I wrote a lot of things on that paper, and many of them showed up on the next draft of my résumé.

Improve.
And then I thought about what I wanted my résumé to look like. Or, more specifically, what skills I would need in order to get the kind of job I would enjoy. I made a curriculum: books to read, topics to research, and projects to implement. Tuesday is homework night, for writing code. Here's the trick to making this palatable: Every time I worked on a curriculum item, I complimented myself on taking another step towards that new job. When you're in a hole, the very act of climbing up makes you see the sky. That's where I'm going, and I'm making progress towards it. Yay, me.

So there's an overview of how I improved my lot in life. The hardest part was overcoming inertia and getting started. Well, that, and persevering through to the goal. ;-) If you're happy where you are, don't forget to look around and appreciate that from time to time. Every job has its annoyances and challenges I imagine, but it is possible to find one where you feel fulfilled and appreciated, where your skills are useful, and where the challenges are fun. You deserve a job you enjoy.

Lurking Under that Resistance

Some of the topics at the AgileAustin Open Space revolved around a theme. Is Agile appropriate for critical systems (medical, life-supporting software)? Can we use Agile when we have a fixed timeline and a finite budget? Will Agile work when our software supports an always-on manufacturing floor? What about when developing strategic software, breaking new business ground? Are there times when Agile is not appropriate?

I believe the conveners are primarily asking these questions as proxies. They're at the conference because they believe in Agile, but they've been asked these questions by stakeholders they need to convince. So they're looking for help in crafting their arguments.

In my experience, resistance to Agile derives from an underlying fear. That fear tends to take some mix of two forms: "I've invested my career in getting good at one way of doing things, and you want to make me obsolete," and "My rear is on the line for a lot of money. I'm not interested in risking my rear while you experiment with your touchy-feely methodology. Just deliver."

When trying to convince someone, first sussing out his concerns and then pitching your argument to address them will make you most effective.

For the fear of obsolescence, convey that, while some ways of doing things may no longer be needed, the person is still valued, and he has skills and experiences that will help the team make the transition. Give that person a clear role, an obvious place of value, and his fears and therefore resistance should relax.

To those who are inherently change-averse, you can still work to improve the feeling of safety, to make the change more palatable. There are some folks, however, whom Agile doesn't suit. Let them find jobs as SOX auditors or something.

For those who seek assurances that this crazy experiment will deliver, on time and on budget, I take two tacks. I show them burndown charts, and explain how you can clearly see, "Does this trend line look like it's going to hit the finish line when you want it to?" Burndowns are very communicative graphics; they're a great tool. Second, I ask permission to try it for a month. Just, give me two sprints. Worst case, you've lost a month, which you would have spent writing half of a Business Requirements Document. Best case, you might have a few high-value, ready-to-ship features. That's a pretty good risk-to-return ratio.

Understand what fears are hiding behind their resistance. Address those fears (usually without making direct mention of them; fear tends to turn defensive if you point out a perceived weakness). Talk in their language, using their own levers, to present your case (e.g., talk numbers to a finance person). Finally, ask for something reasonable: "You don't have to do this forever, just let us try it for a bit, and then you can decide whether to continue or adjust."

Agile Open Space: On Certifications

The AgileAustin Open Space has kicked off. I found the opening session positive, engaging, really fun to be there. I'm chuffed because I felt confident enough to suggest (convene) a few sessions. One responsibility of a convener is to capture notes from the session. This blog post is meeting that responsibility.

Y'see, one of the sessions I proposed was entitled, "Certified ScrumMaster??" I wanted to gauge people's opinions of the CSM certification: Is it valuable, is it real, or is it just résumé-padding fluff?

I got my answer. The groans, grumbles, and rolled eyes around the room confirmed my suspicions. In this crowd at least, it is worse than irrelevant. It is counter to and detrimental to the philosophy of the Agile community.

After the proceedings broke into less formal conversations, I caught up with some community members whom I respect and enjoy. They elaborated on their earlier non-verbal remarks. It is not difficult to get a CSM; you attend a two-day class. That's it. That sounds like just enough knowledge to be really dangerous.

Why do we even need certifications? What does a certificate indicate about my real skills, abilities, and past experience? No, I inherently reject any model that sets up a gate-keeper-style hierarchy to knowledge—a system that says, "We know things; you don't. Your ideas and perspectives are not as good as ours until we bless you and permit you to be one of us (and your check clears)." I don't accept religions that do this, nor governments, nor software project methodologies, for Pete's sake.

The true flaw in the CSM is the name: Certified ScrumMaster. Go to a hiring manager and ask which she'd rather have, someone with 3 years' experience as a Scrum team member, or a Certified Scrum Master [trumpet fanfare]. Those in the know, know that ScrumMaster is the role; you hear it without the space. But to those who are not yet well versed in Scrum, it sounds like Mastery of the Scrum process; they inject a space between the words.

The Training page on the Scrum Alliance website says it plain: "The journey to mastery begins with..." and "These courses [CSM and CSPO] provide a solid foundation to help you make the paradigm shift to managing a project using Scrum." [emphasis added] They state straight up that this is the starting point. But the name of the certification doesn't say that. The opportunity for misinterpretation will get people into trouble.

Why does it get my dander up? Personally, because it threatens to be Another Damn Thing I gotta do to stay in the game. Professionally, because agile projects can be magnificent, and certifications smack of the process-for-process'-sake mindset that turns software development into a tedium. Philosophically, because neophytes will incorrectly elevate the merit of opinions from a Certified ScrumMaster, no matter how little experience he may have, and dilute and muddle the tenets of Agile.

Mike Cohn the other night joked about the CSM culminating in a tattoo. I don't know, man, I might put more stock in that, if the tattoo embodied the Agile Manifesto. (Embodied—ha!) It would at least convey the right level of commitment.

Simplest Responsible Thing

Someone on Saturday asked rhetorically, how do you reconcile the agile philosophy of "do the simplest thing possible" with good OO design principles. That apparent conflict stems from misquoting the first part. The more useful version is:

Do the simplest responsible thing that works.

That is, responsible to highly probable future features; responsible to your known performance demands; responsible to your business's security and reliability requirements.

Above all, responsible to your future teammates (and your Future Self) who will have to support and maintain that code. Happily, this last responsibility is nicely supported by the emphasis on "simplest."

Note also that it is "simplest," not "easiest." Your old familiar habits will be easiest, but if those habits were formed in a different paradigm—say... old ASP that you learned by osmosis (Hey, we all had to start somewhere.)—then it will take some dedicated study to turn the responsible thing, the simplest thing, into something you can do easily. Meanwhile, the state of the art in Simple will keep moving, but that just gives us something to keep striving towards. That's what keeps it interesting, right?

Wrangling Rhinoceri

I've been asked to help some teammates become more comfortable with Rhino.Mocks. I'll practice my explanations here, and y'all can offer guidance and ask clarifying questions if you're so inspired. I'll be glad for the help.

Rhino-what? What-mocks? What-what?
The domain we're discussing is unit testing, the code that developers write to verify the logic in their code. Rhino.Mocks is not a testing framework, but a mocking framework, which means it allows you to mock (simulate) parts of your application. You use it along with a testing framework like NUnit or MbUnit.

If you have written code without keeping an eye on testability, it is likely to be witheringly difficult to apply Rhino.Mocks after the fact. Life is simpler if you write the tests first, therefore Rhino.Mocks plays well with Test-Driven Development, which drives you to design your code in a testable way.

As far as what it is, Rhino.Mocks is a dll you include with your test project files. You create a reference to it from your test project, and it gives you some additional classes and methods you can use within your unit tests.

State-based and interaction-based tests
There are two main styles of unit tests, state-based and interaction-based, and each is useful for different things. With state-based, you set up some variables, run them through the methods you want to test, and then verify that their state has become what you expect. You use Assert statements to assert, "The state should be [this]. If not, fail the test." If you're testing an addition method, you can verify the state of the answer, as in, "I assert that 2 plus 2 should be 4."

Rhino.Mocks is used in interaction-based tests. Here you are verifying the interaction between your classes. For example, in a Model-View-Controller architecture, you could test your Controller's interactions with the Model and the View, as in, "I want to verify that, when the Controller is asked to display customers, it gets customers out of the data repository, runs the results through my CustomerFormatter class (I don't know, it's just an example), and sends them to be displayed on the user interface."

You have three interactions there, so you'll probably write three tests. You are not testing what comes out of the data repository, just that the Controller talked to it. In fact, you don't even need a real data repository for this test. If you could just simulate that repository in a way that let you verify it was called... This is what Rhino.Mocks gives you.

What next?
Martin Fowler has written a great article, Mocks Aren't Stubs. If this is your first introduction to Rhino.Mocks and mocking frameworks, perhaps not everything in that article will click with you. It is still worth reading now, and I'll link to it again in my next post. It wouldn't hurt to read Martin's article twice.

My next post will include why you would want to simulate classes instead of using the real thing. I also want to explain why you even want interaction-based tests. I have an intuitive sense of the value, but I am not yet good at articulating it. Feel free to chime in.

Globally distributed scrum

I'm on record as saying that globally distributed scrum teams can work, but sub-optimally. I'd like to retract and revise that position, so that something I'd said doesn't inadvertently lead a team down a poor path.

My team's scrum adventure lasted from March 2007 to April 2008. (Why does it have an end date? Buy me a beer, and we'll talk. But none of the people who were a part of or were affected by our efforts wanted it to end. The project was a success.) We started out with four developers in Austin, six developers in Bangalore, a Test Lead in Austin, and five testers in Hyderabad. I'll call this the Two Parallel Teams period. Team members were moved over time, so that we became two developers in Austin, eight developers in Bangalore, a Test Lead in Austin, and three testers in Hyderabad. This is the One Distributed Team period.

We had a good collection of team members, and I think we could have worked together very effectively, had the distance between our desks not been so great. I am not criticizing off-shoring; I am criticizing scattering your product owners, developers, and testers across different continents. Note who I included in that list there; if your dev team is co-located, but your product owner is far away, you have a distributed team.

We did not have a choice about where our teammates should be located, but we had influence over which project methodology we would use. So the choice was not "distributed scrum versus co-located scrum," but instead "distributed scrum versus distributed waterfall."

Do I still think distributed scrum is better than distributed waterfall? Yes, although with less unbridled enthusiasm. It required more meetings from all team members (including product owners) at crazy hours, but it still made it easier for the product owners to get the system they need; it still had us writing more code, more often, which is way more fun than fighting over contracts; and it still enabled productive, visible progress toward our goals.

We were happiest in our Two Parallel Teams mode. The developers in one city worked on one feature, and likewise for the other city. The only people who really suffered here were the product owners and the scrum master, who had to accommodate a ten-and-a-half-hour time difference to have their sprint planning meetings.

We offset our two-week sprints by one week, so that the testers could be shared between the two sets of developers. It worked okay because it did not require the "save state and hand off" process inherent in distributed teams. That process is, at the end of the day, you write an email explaining what you did, where your thoughts are about the work-in-progress, what you want your teammates to pick up, and what you want them to leave alone because it's currently too fragile to explain or share. It's like "hibernating" in Windows--save a snapshot of where you're at--and it takes time.

The more distributed the team, and the more they need to collaborate, then the more time will be spent handing off, and the team will be less efficient. In our One Distributed Team mode, the hand-off process overwhelmed the development process, so that more time was spent saying what you're doing than doing. This is the dangerous mode I want to warn people away from. If multiple people are collaborating on a feature, they have to be able to talk to each other, in person, real time.

There are still dangers lurking in the Two Parallel Teams mode. The most insidious is the way it undermines egalitarian, democratic, self-organizing decision making. For a team to decide things like designs, system architecture, even working practices, they have to be able to discuss and debate as a team. This requires trust, camaraderie, and personal safety. Those things are built in informal, day-to-day interactions--y'know, the way friendships are built. Over email and conference calls, they happen incredibly slowly, if at all.

You have to be comfortable with someone to be able to argue with him. The threads stitching together a global team are tenuous, and we operate with great delicacy to avoid snapping them. The communication channel is so anemic, you have to choose every word carefully, to ensure it does not accidentally offend. This is the opposite of having the confidence to know that, after we argue about this topic, we'll still be a team. Which means a lot of decisions go un-debated; they get made by default instead of by consensus.

Do I recommend globally distributed teams? No. Regardless of the project methodology, and no matter how talented the team members are, you will be dramatically less efficient if the members of your team are scattered over the planet. If you're off-shoring, then off-shore--put developers, testers, product owners, project managers, the whole team in one place. Software development is intrinsically collaborative. Structure your teams so that they may collaborate.

This experience gave me a taste, however, of how fun scrum can be. With a co-located team, you could seriously rock and roll.

Software Development as Manufacturing Metaphor

Alistair Cockburn's talk the other night was inspiring, thought-provoking, and entertaining. If you have the opportunity to hear him speak, I highly recommend it.

I have been wary of the agile community's current enthusiasm for the Lean literature, as applied to software development. I'm hesitant to trust "manufacturing" as a metaphor for "software development," because I work for a large manufacturing firm. My executive management believe they are experts in efficient manufacturing, and therefore apply those lessons to managing software teams. The agile-to-lean trend gives them permission to make this leap.

The problem comes in attending to the wrong part of the metaphor. Incorrectly applied, it overlooks that developers are knowledge workers, and you are led to believe that they are interchangeable laborers who should specialize on a small task. Easily outsourced, among other things.

But Mr. Cockburn made me realize the right part of the metaphor to apply, the useful part. He said, substitute "unverified decisions" for "inventory," and now you can map your team's process, look for bottlenecks, and improve throughput. When unverified decisions pile up, work is not getting done.

Mr. Cockburn said that different types of bottlenecks mean you need different solutions. He also flouts the strictest adherence to Lean, which would have you remove all waste, and instead suggests spending efficiency to increase throughput. You have too many developers and too few db designers? Let the devs iterate through a bunch of designs and code until they have it really baked, before handing it over to the db designer. Too many analysts and not enough devs? Get the requirements solid, signed off, and thoroughly detailed before giving them to the devs. Too few product owners to tell you which route to build? Build both and let them choose.

Spend your excess efficiency in order to increase the speed of the overall team.

Back to my beef with the manufacturing metaphor. Incorrectly applied, it lets you think waterfall software development makes sense: They give us the specs for a computer, we build it, it gets tested. But the scale is wrong. What a waterfall project actually does is give you the entire order for the DoD's workstation upgrade initiative, and you build 1000 computers before any of them get tested. (A huge backlog of unverified decisions.) Rapid iterations bring you back to building one computer at a time. And Scrum makes the deciding and the verifying nigh simultaneous...
Developer: Purple or green?
Product Owner: Purple.
Developer: 2gigs or 4?
Product Owner: Ooh, 4!
Tester: Oops, hold it, you actually grabbed the 2.
Developer: Whew, good catch.

What I learned from Mr. Cockburn is that the Lean philosophy holds useful lessons for the agile practitioner. Drawing an analogy between writing software and installing chips on a motherboard does not help you, but thinking of your software team as a process comprising different roles, each with their own decisions to verify, can help you increase your team's productivity.

Computer as Brain Metaphor

I have been splitting my reading lately between finite automata and metaphors that shape thought and action. My husband Jonathan and I have an on-going debate about the appropriateness of using the computer as a metaphor for the human brain. I find it useful for describing all sorts of events; he feels it undervalues the capabilities and elegance of the brain.

I probably don't need to pitch my side of the argument to y'all. You've likely said things like...

• I wish I could install more RAM.
• Dude, that guy totally overclocked his processor.
• I can only hold x things in memory.
• Core dump!

But it bothers Jon, and he takes me to task whenever I say something that betrays my underlying metaphor. I've been trying to understand why we have different emotional stances on this, and I've hit on the following. As a programmer, I think of my computer as the outlet of my creativity, the tool by which I express my craft. A user tends to think of his computer as an annoying appliance that would give him access to all this great stuff (entertainment, social contact, information, pr0n), if it would just freakin' work. You've seen how users treat their laptops: bang, pound, whack! Given how Jon and I view our brains (as valuable, precision tools), I can see why he does not want to think of his brain the way a user thinks of his computer.

Beyond that, I see Jon's side: This metaphor leads you to think of intelligence in terms of processor speed or amount of RAM, which leads you to believe you can quantitatively compare the intelligence of one human to another, and that leads to a very narrow definition of human intelligence. There is more to intelligence than number of instructions per second. To satisfy me, a metaphor for intelligence has to accommodate empathy and personality and intuition. From these spring creativity, and society, and humanity.

At least, that's what the wetware wants me to believe.

Runs in the Family

I'm a language geek, but I try not to be a nit about it. I like the subtle nuances in choosing the "right" word for a situation, but not at the expense of connecting and communicating with real human beings. However, sometimes a small change in word choice can have a large impact on clarity.

In JP's Nothin' But .NET class last week, we had an object called "criteria." (He was creating a DSL for generating SQL statements. Neat stuff.) My brain kept tripping over the example, until I realized, "Oh! Your criteria is a single thing, and I'm expecting it to be a collection. Ah ha!" So I suggested a name-change to "criterion," not to be pedantic (I swear), but just to improve clarity.

A little time passed, and then a student raised the objection I was expecting. "Well, actually, Merriam-Webster's says..." I know this objection well; I've explored it, and I've read Merriam-Webster's editorial philosophy (Did you know your dictionary has an Introduction?). M-W has a descriptive focus, not prescriptive; their intent is to capture and document language usage in the wild. It's a good resource, but not when you want to know the "proper" use of a word.

Knowing this did not improve my image in the class.

Ah, well, I gotta be me. Teasing me, one student said, "Hey, you know so much about dictionaries. Do you have strong opinions on hash tables?" No... that's my dad!