When Good Enough Is Good Enough

I have a broken, shattered vase on my desk. It's an eye-sore. And a lesson.

Years ago, I had a small ash tree growing up through a fence in my yard. It was one of the few trees in my yard, and I was reluctant to cut it down, but I realized either the tree or the fence had to go. I wanted to preserve a bit of my tree by turning (on a lathe) one section into a vase that could sit on my mantle.

Turning "Green wood" (newly cut wood that is still green and wet inside) is different from store-bought kiln-dried wood. The wood is turned on the lathe and shaped with chisels and gouges as usual. But after being shaped, the wood continues to dry, and in the process, it twists and contorts into unusual shapes. But of course you have no idea what your work will look like until months later when the wood has fully dried. Instead of a vase that looks machine-made, it often looks like it has melted slightly, taking on a Dali-esque appearance.

I saved a nine-inch section of my tree, and turned it into a very nice vase. My wife thought it looked beautiful and put it on the mantle (and believe me, she doesn't allow just anything on her mantle). But from my unique vantage point in my chair, when the sun shone through the skylight at just the right angle, I could see a flaw. There was a spot where my gouge must have dug in a little too deep and left a tiny, almost undetectable groove near the foot of the vase. It drove me crazy.

After a few days on the mantle I could take no more. I took the vase back out to my shop, and chucked it up on the lathe again. But when I turned on the lathe, I realized even just a few days on the mantle had caused the vase to dry and change shape. It was no longer uniformly round, and as a result, it was no longer well balanced on the lathe. As the vase began to spin, it started to wobble, and the lathe began to vibrate. The vase flew off the lathe, whacked my face shield pretty hard, then landed on the cement floor and shattered.

I turned a piece of a lovely shade tree into a beautiful vase. But I wasn't happy with a beautiful vase; I wanted a perfect vase, and my own desire for perfection left me with a shattered piece of trash. I keep that vase on my desk to remind myself to be satisfied with beauty, because when you change something, one possible outcome is disaster.

The vase is, of course, a metaphor for my work in software engineering. Often, software engineers fall in love with their code, and although they have produced a beautiful product -- a product that meets all the requirements -- they still like to tweak and optimize it. I'm guilty in this area myself. While investigating an unrelated bug report, I saw an awkward piece of code I had written months earlier. As part of my bug fix, I also rewrote this section of code to be more elegant, more streamlined, more perfect. In the process, I introduced a bug at a boundary condition. Whenever a software engineer touches a piece of working code, there is always a non-zero probability that a new defect will be introduced. Sometimes we have to accept that good enough is good enough.

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Bob Hueston

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