Tuesday March 31, 2009 
Tuesday March 31, 2009 I admit it - my original blog today was a rant:
“It stinks. It never gets easier. The fact it's necessary is small comfort. No comfort, in fact, to those who are losing their jobs today.”
But as I read emails from my departing colleagues, I realized that a rant was not appropriate. Because it didn't do honor to the dignity and classiness of the people we said goodbye to today. To give you a taste of what I mean, here are some sample lines from farewell emails I read today:
“Every day I've been at Sun has been a privilege.”
“It's been an honor to work with such an amazing group of people.”
“There have been a multitude of people at Sun who have touched my life and I wish and pray the best for you all.”
These comments are a reflection of our culture of caring. As is the vibrant online community that is hard at work helping each other find jobs, get support, know they're not alone. You'll find us on LinkedIn, on Facebook. You'll find us blogging. You'll find us emailing. Gone but by no means forgotten. We keep in touch with each other. I'm so impressed by the number of us willing to share that most precious of commodities today – job openings. That speaks to a generosity of the spirit that you just don't find everywhere.
When our founders started Sun almost 30 years ago, I know they envisioned a company of extraordinary people creating extraordinary innovation. And of that they – and we – should be proud. But I'm even prouder of the kind of person that Sun has bred. High in integrity, loyal to each other.
Even as we go through these tough times, we all have many reasons to hold our heads up high. I salute my colleagues and thank them for the lesson in professionalism and generosity they've taught me today.
Posted by terrymckenzie ( Mar 31 2009, 03:38:19 PM PDT ) Permalink Comments [1]
Monday March 23, 2009 Although in work-related situations, I have (ahem) a rather big personality, in my personal time, I'm somewhat introverted. Hate big parties. Don't like crowds. Don't like meeting strangers. Don't like asking personal questions. That kind of thing really stresses me out.
And yet, there I was on Saturday morning at All Saints Church in Pasadena, going through training on how to canvass a neighborhood and find out why people voted as they did on last November's Proposition 8. I was nervous and jittery. Not only was I doing something completely outside my comfort zone, but I was doing it with strangers. Nice strangers, mind you. Extremely appreciative and supportive strangers, in fact. But strangers.
During the training, we were taught both key messages and methodologies. We learned how to make sure there wasn't a vicious dog behind the fence, waiting to lunch on our leg. We were reminded that we had three objectives: to identify why people object to gay marriage and try to soften their view, and to entice those who support gay marriage to volunteer. The best weapon, we were told, is our personal story – why we are doing what we're doing.
Mine was easy: I'm a mom with two children, one has the right to marry because she's straight, and the other doesn't, because he's gay. As a mom, I can't live with that.
I was assigned a canvassing partner – we would work the same block on opposite sides of the street (damn... I would have been so much more comfortable if we could have worked the houses together, but we were told that was intimidating). But at least my partner had done this before...
Rob was great – in fact, spending two hours with him was the best part of the experience (you can get to know Rob at his blog, wakingupnow.com). On the ride to our district, Rob told me how hurt he was after the election, and that for awhile, he hated all straight people. That he was so angry at conservative Christians. And that he was canvassing because it was at least something he could do to make a difference. I was inspired - but still scared pea green.
We arrived at our target community (which was in the foothills, so there was lots of huffing and puffing accompanying our efforts), and I rang my first doorbell. A man came out. He became very, very angry when I told him I was there to learn about voters' views on gay marriage. He became intimidatingly angry, in fact. I was polite but got the heck out of there. They told us what to do about mad dogs, but not what to do with frothingly angry voters.
The day got better after that (how could it have gotten worse??). My high point was talking with a 75-year old grandmother who just didn't understand why people cared about gay marriage – why do they want to tell other people how to live? Don't we all deserve love and happiness? I wanted to hug her. My most puzzling conversation was with a mom like me – she also has one straight and one gay child. She raved on and on about her lesbian daughter, how responsible she was, how lovely. But no, she could not support gay marriage. Civil unions? You bet. But marriage brings in a religious piece that she feels is sacred. And, she assured me, her daughter felt the same way. Hmmm, I don't believe that for a minute, but I understood her perspective. She voted for Prop 8 last time, and would do it again.
I was shaking my head when I walked away from the door. But part of me thinks she has a point. As soon as religion enters the picture, toxins join it, and emotions get very high.
So let's do this a different way, and make ALL marriages civil unions. Mine, yours. Make sure we all have the same rights under the law. Then, if you want to be married in God's eyes, do it separately in the church of your choosing. If your church doesn't perform same sex marriages, leave it and go find a church that loves and respects you for who you are.
Live and let live. Love and let love. Equal protection under the law. I don't care much about equal protection under the church – that's not my right nor my problem as a U.S. citizen, where separation of church and state is the law of the land.
Will I canvass again? I don't know. It was a highly emotional experience, and one of the more difficult things I've done in my life. I can't promise I'll be up for it again. But on March 21, 2009, I stood up for my son, my niece, my family, my friends, my colleagues, my fellow human beings. And for that, at least, I can be proud.
Posted by terrymckenzie ( Mar 23 2009, 10:24:20 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [3]
Wednesday March 18, 2009 I know nothing. Nada. Zippo. And if I did? I wouldn't tell you. Not that I don' t love and respect you. Not that I wouldn't love to roll in the rumor hay with you, spinning up scenarios, one juicier than the next. But because there's a reason companies don't comment on rumors and speculation. For one thing, the company may end up spending all its cycles denying or affirming what's out there. And for another, it's illegal.
As a publicly traded company, we live by SEC rules. One of those rules is that we can't tell employees something material before we tell our shareholders. Doing otherwise can lead to insider trading, and let's face it, none of us think we can pull off prison stripes anywhere near as stylishly as Martha Stewart.
This is true if the rumor is correct, misguided, or complete nonsense. Doesn't matter. Officially, our response to rumors is “No comment”. Unsatisfying as that is.
When someone tells us what to think or see, we tend to take it as gospel. For example, consider this still life by Cezanne: ...
What do you see? Rich draperies, luscious fruit, fine crockery, right? Now what if I told you, “Oh, no – this is not a painting of a table setting – it's a painting of a pig in a nun's habit.” What do you see now?
Scroll down
Keeping scrolling...
OK, you can look now:
Did Cezanne paint a pig? Or did he paint a still life? What was his intent? What should we read from his painting?
So, to get back to rumors... Newspapers print stories that point out what some people see as the pig in the painting. Whether it's there or not. Whether its inclusion in the artwork was intentional or just an unintended consequence of certain folds in the drapery.You can read the stories as well as I can. But we each need to draw our own conclusions. It's not up the company to tell us if it's a still life or a whimsical painting of pig. Until such time as we're ready to move beyond the superficialness of an image - be it in paint or print - and on to the reality of the event - be it a dinner party or a meeting with a new habit. Until then? Well, there may not be an “until then...” This rumor could just as easily fade into tomorrow's news.
We'll just have to wait and see.
Posted by terrymckenzie ( Mar 18 2009, 12:49:05 PM PDT ) Permalink Comments [3]
Friday March 13, 2009 I got lost in Guildford. To know how embarrassing this is, you need to have been to Guildford. Which is tiny. A town center (excuse me, town centre*), a train station, and a handful of streets.
I blame the incident on my coffee addiction and my failure to pass this most admirable of all human weaknesses down to my daughter.
Here's the story. I stayed with Carolyn and Juan Carlos in their lovely house in storybook-looking Guildford. Upon arising every morning, I stumbled downstairs in search of my morning caffeine fix. Only to find a complicated, never-used cappuccino machine that I was unable to figure out.
Not a big deal. There are a number of excellent coffee shops in Guildford, just down the road. Put on my sneakers, grab a coat and off I went, every morning. A brisk 20 minutes later, I'd arrive in front of the shop of my choice, order my large brew, and turn around to walk back to the house.
I did this for six days in a row without incident. The seventh day? Well, the Lord rested and so apparently did my brain. I stopped thinking about the route and just went on autopilot, which was clearly a big mistake. Picture this: I'm walking back from town, in fine stride, happily sipping hot coffee as I went. Daydreaming, as usual, paying no attention. Until I glanced to my right and noticed I was walking on a small bridge over train tracks.
Train tracks? Train tracks? I didn't remember any stinkin' train tracks. Ruh roh. (If you're a Brit, this is an Americanism that is worth lowering your standards to learn, as it comes from that great classic of literature, Scooby Doo. However, there is no need to add “stinkin'” to your vocabulary, although it will endear you to Los Angeles natives if you do. After all, I learned what spotted dick pudding is, and let's be honest – what's scarier?)
But back to my tale. I feel those little beads of perspiration popping up on my forehead. And I try to convince myself that maybe I just never noticed the train tracks before. Yeah, that's it. So I keep going. But it's no good. I pass building after building that I could swear I've never seen before. I don't have a map, I don't have my mobile. With no better options in sight I retrace my steps. And now I'm really puzzled. Because for the life of me I can't see what I did wrong. Yep, there's the print shop. There's the Thai restaurant. There's the street crossing where I've almost been run over seven days in a row.
I resort to magical thinking. Like if I do the exact same thing I just did, surely this time it will work. Shockingly? It didn't. I was still crossing that damn bridge with the train tracks. I turn around. Again. But this time I'm desperate enough to stop strangers and ask them. Of course, my asking for directions is somewhat hampered by the fact that while I know the little residential street my daughter and son-in-law live on, I don't remember the main road next to them. But I sort of think it starts with “elm.” And that there's an over-25 nightclub about six blocks from their house. Surely those facts are enough to get me going.
Uh, no. I'm met with blank look after blank look. Thinking that perhaps it's my bad English, I stop at the local high school, accost this nice-looking man in the parking lot, and throw myself on my mercy. This time I started off by explaining, “I'm just a stupid American...” And it worked! He chortled with delight, and said with that British dry wit we so envy, “No, no, I'm sure there's no such thing...” and then proceeded to give me directions. He even figured out that the street that I thought started with “elm” was actually Epsom. Bless his heart.
So I'm flying home back to the U.S., to my own house, my own coffee maker that I can use, and a car that I can drive on the right side of the road (and by that, I mean the correct side!). But watch out, Great Britain, because I'm coming back!
PS: I still don't know what I did wrong but I'm sure I'll have the opportunity to repeat my mistake later this spring.
*Note: Having failed to learn Spanish, I'm doing my best to learn real English, because I was told by a British Sun colleague that my American language is NOT the same language as his. We all remember how well (not) my Spanish lessons went, so I'm not holding out much hope here.
Posted by terrymckenzie ( Mar 13 2009, 08:00:00 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [4]
Wednesday March 04, 2009 From Wild and Wacky to Reality
I spent much of this week in meetings about our emerging new intranet, and by the end of it all, I was so excited about where we are and where we're heading that I (almost) didn't mind the two-hour delay at SFO to get home.
Eighteen months ago, we started out on a mission that was pretty cool – if a little out there – to create a corporate intranet that lives on the edge, that is 90 percent customizable by employees, that can link to any widget or gadget out there, and that is device agnostic. In the airport and need to check something on our website? Enter through your iPhone or Blackberry. Need access from a kiosk? No problem. On your home computer? Welcome.
We wanted to not only say goodbye to firewalls but to the entire idea that a company intranet is primarily an information forcing function. Rather, we wanted our new intranet to be employees' home away from home – for work as well as personal interests. We wanted a place where employees could build communities, share expertise, and – yes – have fun online. So we've figured out a way to keep your Twitter tweets in full view, let you hop over to Facebook, Ning, or whatever social networking pavilion you like. A place where you can quickly take care of business, be it an HR transaction or collaboration on a project. A place where you choose what's important to you, instead of us making that decision for you.
The project has been known as SunWeb Next at times, and other times as Project 90/10, because corporate will control only 10 percent of your home page – employees will personalize the other 90 percent. Lately though, we've started calling it “The Mother of All Aggregators Site.” Or “mother,” but only affectionately, of course!
Our new website will really be an extranet, and we see it as a way to go to where employees are, rather than expecting them to come to us. Pilots begin this month, and with many fingers and toes crossed, we hope for broad rollout in early fall. Our team conversations are shifting from architecture and platforms to risk management, governance, template creation, channel and content migration, change management and communication. And to tell you the truth? What still needs to happen feels overwhelming and scary. But what a privilege to birth this particular baby.
This has been a cross-Sun effort, with so much help from so many groups. Include Clear Ink, our talented and fun partner in this adventure. And while there have been tussles over whose technology to use and what are corporate versus local decisions, they have been fought and resolved with a positively inspiring “Sun First” mindset.
Posted by terrymckenzie ( Mar 04 2009, 02:45:24 PM PST ) Permalink Comments [2]
