Wednesday Jan 24, 2007

My Own Private Idaho

I define a truly successful trip as one in which I learn something from our customers, our partners, or our employees, and frequently, more than one input from that list. So far, this is a good trip.

The primary insight I gleaned was first-hand accounts of how our Try and Buy Program is creating growth opportunities. Digitar, the customer testimonial on our Innovating@Sun story, is based in Boise. Turns out they're not the only customers using the free systems to test out new configurations for Sun in existing applications. One customer told me about using Sun's Opteron servers with VMware and Windows, and feeling much more comfortable getting the hardware through try and buy because they could put whatever stack they wanted on the metal.

Before my own session at the Boise Business and Technolgy Expo, a local Boise hosting company was talking about their choice of platform for web, application and managed network services targetting retail, auto dealers, and the hospitality industry. It's build on Solaris and Sun Opteron servers, and a full-up "SAMP" stack -- Solaris, Apache, MySQL, and PHP, along with their custom network management scripts. And they got the servers through Try and Buy, because it was an easy way to get started quickly, and test out new stacks.

What's the big deal? It's not quite the bottom of the bottomless blue that Fred Schneider sings about, rather, it's an example of a Blue Ocean strategy. However much it pains me to reference anything having to do with Harvard, W. Chan Kim and Renee Mauborgne highlight the ability to grow an existing large business (say, Sun) through non-consumptive markets. You need to find those attributes of a product that are valued more by the customers, and then over-rotate on them. That's what struck me about the two Try and Buy examples -- neither was cannibalizing existing Sun business; it was pure new business.

Apologies to the B-52s, but when in Boise, there's no need to get out of the state you're in. We're spinning round and round, but with opportunity.

Tuesday Jan 23, 2007

Hurry Up and Wait

I'm on my way to Boise, Idaho for some customer and partner meetings, via a pair of early morning flights from Newark through Minneapolis. The early departure gets me to Boise in time for a lunch meeting, and saves Sun the expense of one additional night in a hotel and the fare difference for a more "normal" flight time.

Unfortunately, Starbucks at Newark Airport don't share my love of early departures. The first flights depart Terminal B at 6:00 AM, which means you're in the terminal by 5:00 AM or earlier. Bring your own coffee, because Starbucks isn't open at 5:00 AM. Both coffee stops in this terminal are locked up without any posted hours. The Dunkin' Donuts counters in both Terminals A and C are open 24 hours a day, so passengers and the employees of the Port Authority can get a hot shot at any time. Yet another reason why my loyalties lie with the pink and orange, rather than green and black.

I'd get a coffee in the Northwest Airlines lounge (which honors my Continental club membership), but it doesn't open until 5:30 AM either. If your first flight leaves at 6:00 AM, you should really have your branded lounge open at the TSA recommended lead time before then, or at least by 5:00 AM.

Caffeine levels at quarter-full, I have a plane to catch.

Saturday Nov 25, 2006

Tenth Avenue Freezeout (Kind of)

When the Boss sang about the change made uptown that let the big man join the band, I don't think he meant these two guys.

They're on the corner of 9th Avenue and 50th Street in midtown Manhattan, not quite on Tenth Avenue, and not quite in the freezing weather, but definitely a sign of things to come. It's snowman season, evidenced by frost on the windshield this morning and the fact that "my guy" in my favorite parking lot said he expects to be full up every day until New Year's Eve.

Yes, I took this picture from my car, en route to a meeting in our midtown office, but I was stopped at a light and not attempting to drive, take pictures, and talk on the cell phone at the same time.

Sunday Sep 17, 2006

The MaryMary Mashup

It's mash-up of the former First Lady, the First Lady of Marketing, a few hundred pounds of geek, and two nerds swapping glasses, no AJAX required. All in a Friday morning in the Vienna, VA Sun office.

Monday Aug 28, 2006

Me and Bobby B

I've been confused for many people and many things in my 43 years. I'm frequently approached by people speaking Spanish, believing that I can help them while we're enqueued or otherwise confounded by the public sector. Sadly, the only thing I know how to say is Yo tengo uno lapis amarillo (I have a yellow pencil), which doesn't help when you're at the division of motor vehicles. I've been mistaken for Art Licht, one of our ace storage evangelists and architects, and each time I've resisted accepting additional sales goals on his behalf.

An incident in the hotel pool from last week has me swearing off the Mike & Ikes for good. As I was playing football with my son, a woman on the side of the pool kept looking over at me, and finally asked me "Are you on the Sopranos?" I know that water refracts light, and fish always seem bigger when they're still in the water, but being confused for Steve Schirrapa, AKA Bobby Bacala, was not flattering. It's an early warning sign that I'm almost big enough to have a measurable gravitational field.

Pluto may no longer be a planet, but I'm on my way to taking over that 9th spot.

Friday Jun 30, 2006

Long-Lived Architecture

I love it when live becomes somewhat self-referential, or when life imitates art that is imitating life. Yesterday morning I spoke at EUNIS 2006, an annual conference of European universities that looks at technology issues in education and research. The event was held at the University of Tartu, Estonia.

The University of Tartu was established by King Gustavus of Sweden, however, its campus buildings date back to the 13th century. We held our partner talk in the University Art Museum, formerly the cathedral building, which was completed in the 16th century. The cathedral was damaged during various wars, and fell into disrepair after fires in the late 16th century. One of the university staff lamented that during the decades in which Estonia was part of the Russian confederacy, most funds for reconstruction were devoted to military spending, and only recently has repair of these wonderful buildings begun again.

The cathedral is a great work of engineering. Despite the destruction of buttresses and outside arches in the last few centuries, the walls didn't collapse under their own weight, or collapse inward into the building itself. The building was built for the long haul, to give a place for a community that would long outlive the original builders. During my talk, I made my usual references to the street "architecture" of Boston, drawn from my reading of Stewart Brand's How Buildings Learn. Boston's street layout is accidental architecture overlaid with asphalt and then made permanent by buildings and other infrastructure. My key point is that if you allow messy architecture to become permanent, whatever you build on top attains a rigidity that makes incremental change difficult. You need to be able to change the components in the architecture, down to the level of those arches and supporting walls.

Wednesday Jun 21, 2006

Simple Customer Service

Part of my amusement about frequent flyer status is that I've spent an entire work day stuck in airports, and it's only Wednesday. Monday had me in the nation's capital for a conference on multi-level security, with thunderstorms in both DC and Newark setting back my return by 4 hours. Last night was a trip home from Boston, delayed another half-day by weather, mechanical problems, a tractor stuck at the gate in Newark, and air traffic control.

Many of the problems I experienced in Boston were due to bad communications; the inbound flight was delayed due to weather, but then the engineering crew didn't set an expectation with the airline about when the plane would be ready for departure. As a result, we watched the estimated boarding time slip 15 minutes at a time for well over an hour, like someone hitting the snooze button from ramp control. Tell your customers what's going on, set expectations for when a decision can be made, and what you'll do if the decision isn't the one they were expecting, and you'll have happy customers. Simple information makes people feel empowered; take away the information and you treat your customers as if they're your property. Ignore problems, ignore the grumbling, and anticipate a single (and possibly unlikely) outcome, and your customers read between the lines.

Half of the people on both my Washington and Boston flights were making connections in Newark. Continental has moved all of its short-haul flights into lovely Newark Terminal A, while the longer-haul and hub flights use the new, Dunkin Donuts equipped, dual-Presidents Club Terminal C. They've spun up a shuttle bus that takes people from the A-gates to the C-gates, eliminating the need to exit, take the airport train two terminals, re-enter through the security checkpoint, and then run through another terminal. At the hour my flights were arriving, the shuttle bus wasn't running, and dozens of customers were looking at missing 8-to-10 hour flights because a 45-minute flight was delayed.

Continental did the right thing: they brought our flights right into Terminal C, close to where the widebodies were parked, so that every passenger had a chance to make connections. I was the one taking the train back to my car, but I'm glad that the connecting passengers were vectored to vacations and business trips without infrastructure limits adding Jersey insult to weather injury. Each passenger who wakes up from a trans-Atlantic nap today will remember that Continental took a simple step to fulfill their obligation to customer service, and will likely be more loyal because of the experience.

Platinum to Ytterbium

Am I the only one who finds ascribing precious metals to loyalty levels a bit strange? For years, Continental Airlines had bronze, silver and gold status; gold became an insufficient differentiator and platinum frequent flyers arrived. When you're stacked up 20 deep at Newark airport, the all-points goes out for Elite Access boarding and 75% of the passengers charge the blue carpet like it's the Stones at Altamonte. Adding random values, Continental now upgrades passengers based on the fare basis of your ticket, then your Elite status, then the timetable on which you checked in and requested the upgrade. A little loyalty and a generous travel department gets you better treatment than flying 75,000 miles with your butt crammed into a middle seat in coach.

Let me put this in context: Since mid-April, I've done 45,000 miles in the air. I've been moving at about 80 MPH every hour of every day, on average, even when sleeping in my own bed (all of 10 days). I'm as Platinum as they get, and I think the airlines need to consider the future perfect of frequent flyers. To borrow from my rusty French, it's the plus plus-parfait.

First, enough of the precious metals and precious stones. You want to measure rarity, pull out the periodic table of the elements; there are at least 20 levels waiting to be defined by following the rows. I'll trade my Platinum status (77,000 miles, 46 flight segments) for, say, Cesium or Ytterbium. Elite status has a half-life; you don't fly for a while and you backslide down the row. On the other hand, the luxurious ambiance of a middle seat with a large, snoring body at rest reclining into your knees generates some excitation, adding a few electron shells and moving you up a few levels. Greg Papadopoulos loves to remind me that flying is just physics, so why aren't we using physics to govern our flying?

The best idea, however, is to tailor frequent flyer equivalence classes based around what people want from the program. It requires dispensing with metals, levels, and other nouns used as adjectives. My late Uncle Murray had the simplest and best representations: Macher and Chazer. Both are Yiddish words, mostly German-derived, and contain the hard-h sound that prevent public status bragging rights, lest you accidentally spray it while you say it.

Macher is the big dog. He's a doer, a rainmaker, the real deal. First class aisle seat, magazines with all of the pages in them, first choice of meals. You want to sit next to him because you might learn something, or he might hire you on the spot, and he's only mildly impressed with his own station in life. On the other hand, a chazer is someone who games the system. Bluntly, he's the guy you don't want in front of you in the buffet line at the covered dish supper: the chazer brings a box of donuts and then eats an entire pot roast. He'll convince you that even though he's a +9 Platinum of power, he doesn't get enough upgrades, gets locked out of exit row seats, and he's regularly put in seats with overhead spaces too small for his wheelie bag that looks like it might belong to a NASCAR pit crew.

Macher and Chazer levels would be given out on a monthly basis. If you're a macher, you're a man (or woman) in full (per the Tom Wolfe story) and enjoy the benefits. Act like a chazer (for example, flying from Boston to New York by way of Columbus so that you get four flight segments, not just two) and you are chazer-of-the-month. Everybody else is stack ranked on a per-flight basis -- in terms of seat selection, upgrades, amount of overhead space, board sequence, empty middle seat proximity, and relative benefits for the flight segment. Loyalty is in many cases based on recent history -- a few bad experiences can outweigh years of great ones -- and it should be awarded and rewarded on the same time scale.

With my travel schedule I had reached platinum status on Continental by the beginning of May. I'm avoiding big macher status, since every 500 miles in the air is an hour I'm not at home with my family. That time, as it's written somewhere, is more precious than rubies. Or ytterbium.

Wednesday May 24, 2006

Packing Redundancy

Ever have those bad dreams that involves being in school (or on stage, or in public) and you look down to realize you're not wearing pants? Here's the travelling geek's version of the same: you wake up 5,600 miles from home and your suitcase has no usable pants.

I've been on the road 13 of the last 15 weeks, and I've gotten my trip-to-trip turnaround down to just under 48 hours (I'm not proud of that, but it's the truth). Cycling through business casual clothing, reading material, email downloads and potential exercise wear is merely a matter of popping the stack that comes from the dry cleaners, laundry room and mailboxes.

I've learned to pack with reasonable redundancy, just in case my clothing requirements are extended through missed flights, adverse weather, or lap children in the row behind me that prove Young's diffraction slit experiments apply to vomit and airline seats (yes, that really happened, on the way to Australia). One business trip with a wardrobe provided by Toronto's Pearson Airport, featuring the entire array of sweatpants and moose themed t-shirts, and you pack extras where they are within easy reach even if your luggage is on its way to Iowa.

The root cause of the problem was taking this "pop the stack" model too literally and without enough checking. I grabbed two pairs of pants for this week's trip to Israel, neatly folded them among the other biz wear, and zipped up on my way to the Sun remote office in Newark's Liberty Airport (I'm kidding, Mike Lehman).

14 hours later, while unpacking in Herzeliya, Israel, I found that one pair of pants was ready for our evening meeting with a high-ranking Israeli army officer, and one pair belonged to my son. I have never been so neat at meal times and sensitive to dirt, grease and possible clothing impairment as I was on this trip.

Denial-of-pants service attacks avoided, I'm back in NJ, and gearing up for next week's trip. I hope I don't live out the bad dream of finding out it's final exam day and I didn't know I was registered for the class.

Tuesday May 23, 2006

Sun Israel: 10 Years

I'm returning from 48 hours in the land of milk and honey and venture capital and cell phone users. Sun celebrated 10 years of engineering in Israel with a big tent event this week, and the spotlight was on us for the day.

We were the first major event held at the Avenue, a new convention center built on the edge of Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv. The place was packed from an hour before show time, with Sun partners, resellers, employees, and customers. Mostly customers -- there were over 1,200 people in attendance at the Avenue for our 10 year celebration. Obviously some were there to see our host for the day, Eyal Kitzis, the hottest thing in Israeli comedy right now, but the vast majority of attendees stayed through lunch and into the breakout sessions.

This is what things looked like from the stage just before I did my pitch, a shortened version of Sun's 100 City Road Show. I cut the deck down to size both because I was presenting in English (and not getting nearly as many laughs as Kitzis) and because David Fishman, one of our engineering directors splitting his time between Israel and California wanted to ask me some questions. In Hebrew.

It was time to fight fire with fire. 90% of the Hebrew words I've mastered involve food and beverages. I can also ask people to repeat themselves, loudly, which is de rigeur if cell phones are involved. One of the first things I learned was to order my fish without it staring at me, so in a quick flash of code re-use I introduced "Fish" as Dag Blee Rosh ("Fish Without A Head"). David fired back, asking me what I said the last time I had a predominantly Jewish audience of this size: "I thanked the rabbi for helping me with my Bar Mitzvah." Good thing our technology story was better than our comedy, because people stayed for that tag line.

And stay they did. This is the scene from the partner area, after lunch was served. It was still hopping. Press coverage hit Ha'Aretz and Globes, sort of the New York Post and Financial Times equivalents in Israel.

Big questions from the press included a discussion of open sourcing Java SE, why we think the explosion of mobile devices is good for Sun, and why we were excited by the Israeli economy.

Big thanks to Michal Geva, David Fishman, Dan Toledano, Boaz Yehuda, and the rest of the crew who made this event stunningly popular. I can't wait for Sun's Israeli Bar Mitzvah in just three years.

Wednesday May 17, 2006

Mary's Loot

MaryMary may look and sound polite and All-American, but don't let her "Look at my business card collection, it's the best loot in the world" line set the hook.

Here she is caught in the act, attempting to make off with a handsome replica of some great work of art. I guess that's where she keeps the business cards when they're not on display in her blog.

Apologies to the Argent Hotel for both the number of Rod Argent jokes I made this week as well as disrupting your artwork. Normally I'm only that badly behaved if there's a gingerbread house within easy reach during the holiday season.

Friday May 05, 2006

Snail's Pace

I'm in the Bay Area for the entire week, attending our first-ever company wide review of our R&D projects. It's been a hectic week and one with constant note-taking, preparation, cross-referencing and annotation, as each of the business unit CTOs tries to figure out where we can find efficiencies in both what we're doing and how we're doing it.

When I'm gone for a week, I try to pack my in line skates so that I get something resembling exercise when I'm not playing hockey or baseball back home. If I'm checking a big bag of clothes, adding skate wear and skates to the mix isn't so bad, plus I get the added bonus of clipping my decal-covered helmet to my carry-on and getting the "You skate, dude?" looks in the airport.

"Skate" is a relative term. I believe I hold the record for being tossed out of public places on skates: the Balitmore Inner Harbor park, the Fort Lauderdale Hard Rock Hotel parking deck, the Point Pleasant, New Jersey boardwalk and the Atlantic City Hilton hotel. The last one was the most amusing: I wanted to take a break from blading on the famous AC boards and take a break in the AC of the Hilton, so I switched blades for flip flops and walked into the casion carrying my skate bag. I was told (by security) that my bag was "too big" and was asked to leave. Realize that all around me, people with more teeth than fingers, some carrying a day's worth of clothing in plastic bags, were greeted with smiles, but I was suspicious.

But I digress. In the course of skating these public courses, I've had to evade rolling chairs, wheelchairs, cars, buses, traffic cones, animal droppings, pavement gaps and the occasional live animal. This week's skates around the Sun Menlo Park Campus (perimeter road, precisely 1 mile) provided a new challenge: snails. In the morning hours, it seems the blind, slow-moving, shell-encrusted future French delicacies move from whatever wetlands lie outside the parking lot to the trees, sidewalks, pavements and light poles that dot the inside of the road. Dodging them made the circle tour fun. Unfortunately, after a week of seriously deep technical review, I wasn't exactly road racing.

The snails were out pacing me.

Tuesday Apr 04, 2006

Road Show Part II

I'm spending most of this week on the road, doing customer and analyst briefings, and the keynote at Sun's 100 City Road Show in Santa Clara, California on Thursday. Being up to my eyeballs in strategic planning, budgets, and reviews, I haven't had a ton of public blog content, so I decided this week might make for an interesting travelogue.

That was before the week began Monday at 5:45 AM. Grabbed two large Dunkin' Donuts iced coffees for the road, and headed south to Philadelphia. Yesterday morning's customer briefing was with a large pharmaceutical and consumer products company and was a short form of the 100 City Road Show, discussing Sun's strategy and technology investments. We got into a nice side discussion about Java Enterprise System licensing, as this customer is thinking about serving the needs of a set of communities that have a joint cardinality in the millions. The JES subscription pricing -- by the number of employees, not users or CPUs -- lets the customer gain a cost efficiency through an IT efficiency. Serve millions or tens of millions of patients, hospitals, consumers, doctors, and researchers worldwide and the cost is the same.

Left Philly around 11:30 AM. Stopped for an unspeakable lunch along the Pennsylvania Turnpike (if the truckers aren't eating there, it's an early warning sign). Got home, reloaded with coffee, did some more concalls and then packed up for Newark Airport.

Road Warrior Big Props award #1: My wife Toby, who picked up a sandwich for me figuring that I'd want something less stomach-churning for dinner. It was prescient of her (she usually is), as it was the last reasonable food I'd see for 15 hours.

Rain, Newark Airport, on-time departures. Pick any two to co-exist, because if it's raining you're sitting in EWR. My flight to Vegas was as full as it was late, depositing me into Sin City around midnight. Waited half an hour for luggage and then stood in a taxi cab line that looped in front of the McCarran terminal building at least 400 people deep. It was the kind of travel event that makes you wish you had a helicopter. Or a rental car. Finally arrived at the Hard Rock Hotel at 1:30 AM.

Not too bad, as far as long days go. Until I found out that the hotel had no water, while some construction was going on overnight. I had the random idea of going down to the casino floor and getting a hot chocolate, with the vague notion of getting more tired modulo the hour-long nap I took on the plane. No water, no hot water, no hot chocolate.

Road Warrior Award #2 of the night: My PR handler, Pamela Sherwood, who got two bottles of water and left them at the front desk so that I could at least brush my teeth. 24 hours after starting the day, I called it a night.

Thursday Sep 08, 2005

Family Found

One of the highlights of our trip to Israel was finding my great uncle Zimel Resnick. After his death in 1971, Uncle Zimel's body was flown to Israel for burial in a military cemetary outside of Tel Aviv, with the "Fighters of Gallipoli" from the First World War. We've known that he was buried in Israel, a land that he loved dearly for all of his adult life, but I was the first from our family to locate his grave. A 35-year search, and one that I'll remember for quite some time.

I have only vague memories of Zimel. He was always larger than life; hanging out with politicians and soldiers and sometimes shady characters. He was a mix of Tony Soprano and Tony Bennett, ever the showman, ever the fixer. By day, Zimel was part owner of Palace Amusements in Asbury Park, NJ, made famous later by the other Boss of New Jersey. By night, he was a devout Zionist, and campaigned endlessly for planting trees in Israel, sold bonds for Israel, and more surreptiously, procured weapons to be used in the 1948 War for Israeli Independence. Visits to Zimel's home in Asbury Park for holidays were a test of your endurance, as his pre-food services sometimes lasted hours and included both the official version of the service as well as his own interpretation of the texts.

My favorite Zimel story comes from the nephew he called, in his still-thick Russian accent, "Zhoe", using the Cyrillic double-X in place of the Latin J. Zimel would meet various sources for guns, ammunition, parts of tanks and airplanes, and other weapons at the top of the ferris wheel that rotating through the main building of the Palace. Zhoe would send them up, and Zimel and and his suppliers would have a business meeting overlooking the Atlantic. Physical isolation provided security. Whatever Zimel acquired typically was loaded onto a small boat and later ferried out to a freight ship headed toward the fledgling Israeli state.

Last week we had one of those Israeli visitor moments where bits of history snap together like the borders of a jigsaw, framing what you've heard, read, and experienced. At the Palmach Museum, we heard a fictionalized account of a dozen friends who joined the first Israeli defense forces, and were told "Don't despair, there's a ship coming from America with guns". Earlier in the day we had visited Zimel's grave, and that ship was a storied account of one that he helped to load. And when this registered with my kids, I told them the story of the ferris wheel and Zhoe, whom they better know as their grandfather Joel.

During the reading of the Passover Hagadah, we hide a piece of matzah and later encourage the children to search for it, rewarding the finder. Looking for the afikomen, as it's called, was always a bit more of an adventure in Zimel's house as you might run into a state assemblyman, a soldier, or an unmarked box you shouldn't open. In Zimel's interpretive Hagadah, he wrote that the purpose of hunting for the afikomen is "to remind us that what is broken off is never lost as long as our children remember the search." After 35 years, and through three generations of our family, the search has returned results.

Thursday Jun 09, 2005

In Search of Dunkies

I like my Dunkin' Donuts coffee every morning, sometimes in the afternoon, always on an evening road trip (but, to quote Steve Martin, never at dusk). I'm not a coffee snob; I like iced black Dunkies coffee. This poses something of a problem on road trips, in that the Dunkies density varies in direct proportion to your distance from Randolph, Massachusetts (the hallowed home of Dunkin Donuts corporate and the mystical Donut University). As you drive up and to the right on your United States map, you run into a lot of Dunkin' Donuts shops; go west of Chicago and you're out of luck.

When coffee consumption borders on addiction, and brand preference borders on a (mental) health issue, you get good at finding your Dunkies. Island of Aruba - five Dunkin' Donuts shops. Route 1A in the Fort Lauderdale environs - good to go. I-95 in northern Maryland only has one within a 5-minute detour of the highway. Yes, I spend a lot of time preparing for a trip by checking out and planning my coffee breaks. West of Chicago, no luck. O'Hare Airport is the western frontier of the pink and orange logo.

This week's trip to Boston was nirvana. My flight from Newark deposited me at Logan airport on time, and despite forgetting that the Mass Pike does not have an Back Bay exit when you're headed westbound, I managed to find a parking place, my meeting location, and a brand-new Dunkin' Donuts all within 2 blocks. In celebration of their customers, the new shop was giving out free small coffees, discounted sweetened coffee drinks, and had a body puppet coffee cup dancing around on Stuart Street. I also checked out the shop in Woburn (on my way to a meeting outside the 495 beltway), and one in Terminal C at Logan Airport.

Is there a point, you ask? Several, actually.

  • When in doubt, ask people who are likely to drink a lot of coffee. Parking lot attendants, security guards, and police officers know their Dunkies. What you learned in Kindergarten is true; these people are the coffee drinker's friends in strange cities.
  • Dunkies fans are part of a far-flung but quiet community. Our coffee is simple, and amazingly consistent. You have something in common with that person in front of you in line.
  • When without, improvise. Carry coffee filters and the small 2-serving vacuum packs of Dunkin Donuts grounds with you, and you have your personal Dunkies valet in any hotel room.

    How does Dunkin' Donuts introduce new, competitive products at reasonable prices? Supply chain management. Sprinkles optimization (no, I'm not kidding). Running effective trucking routes so that stores get frozen muffins in the proper cadence. There is no great IT without coffee; there is no great coffee without IT.

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    Hal Stern's thoughts on software, services, cloud computing, security, privacy, and data management


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