Stackoverflow (SO) is the premiere question and answer site for programmers. It's a joke now that when SO goes down, programmers go home because no work can get done. It is their mission to make life better for programmers, and the men and women working behind the scenes at SO have poured much sweat and tears into growing a useful community for programmers to share solutions to various problems encountered in their algorithm-laden lives.
That is not to say there aren't issues, though. As the site has grown (and it is bit on the huge side now) SO has had to make decisions that define (and refine) the site's character, and not all of these desicions have passed without detractors. They have also had to try addressing criticism of the site, and one of the most common criticisms seems to be related to how (un)welcoming the site can be for newcomers.
I think I can relate to this. I am not a programmer by trade, but I do try to create useful utilities for use in my day job and enjoy programming in at least a hobbyist capacity. I am not very confident in my abilities, though, and definitely do not need someone to remind me of an obvious skill gap (why do you think I'm asking the question in the first place?)
I do not have the answers regarding how to make SO more welcoming to beginners. Perhaps once a community grows to a certain point it naturally fractures into a strata of people who are skilled to a point where they aren't aware of their own bias against lesser-experienced individuals. Or maybe there are rules in the system that encourage what one person interprets to be a "man up, you snowflake!" mentality while an insecure individual interprets the same feedback system to be validation that they don't have what it takes to join with programming peers.
I suppose that when so much of the technology culture centers on a "Brogrammer" mentality rife with competition using knowledge and perceived cleverness as a ranking system, it's natural for some snark to become ingrained in interactions among programmer peers. It's not hard when reading some comments and answers to a SO question to sense a tone of judgement, that the questioner must pass some bar of having earned an answer before they may have one, something beyond the basic search of the site for the same problem before duplicating it.
There have been cases where people will take more time to criticize the questioner than it would have taken to edit or refine the question into something useful and post an answer.
Sometimes it seems you can do everything seemingly right but still fall short in someone's judgement; the ability to down vote a question while leaving no constructive feedback and incurring no penalty in the process (except to the question-asker) seems like a pretty obvious way to discourage interacting with the community for help.
Note that I'm not saying down votes are necessarily bad, although I do wonder if alternative feedback methods could be useful. I'm saying that one of the more frustrating interactions on the site, in my experience, stems from being penalized and not knowing why; if you down vote, maybe you should have to leave some constructive feedback or enhancement to fix the problem or take some penalty to your own Internet-points reputation score.
For example, I recently had trouble with an intermittent panic when exiting a Go utility and posted to StackOverflow for help. I posted a title that succinctly summarized the issue. I posted the panic message. I posted the function definition. The panic had a line number from the definition that seemed to trigger the intermittent error; I posted the specific "line X is..." followed by the line of code so there was no question what snippet triggered the panic. I tagged it with appropriate tags. There were a couple of comments, and I posted a link to another question citing some code to explain (justify?) why I implemented the function call the way I did. What happened?
I took two down votes of penalty to my reputation.
In the comments I asked if the down voters could explain what I could do to improve the question for future reference. After all, SO may be for answering questions related to your immediate problems, but it's also supposed to be of use to future questioners looking to solve similar problems. Last time I checked no one explained why they did it.
The nearest I got to helpful feedback on the down votes was from one of the helpful people who submitted an answer to my question; that person speculated that it was because I had not RTFM'd to the satisfaction of some of the other users since the problematic line was in the panic and the source code for a function call used in my definition shows it probably didn't like a nil context parameter.
So as a relatively insecure beginner, I crafted a question with lots of context, source code, and clarification, only to get dinged with damage (negative reputation) by anonymous clicks from people who couldn't leave a reason why or offer feedback on improving the reference value of the question.
It shouldn't be difficult to understand why this would be discouraging to some people, especially when the goal (I thought) was to build a useful reference for many people, not (possibly) penalize someone for not meeting some arbitrary criteria for having passed a bar of RTFM to be blessed with community membership in order to be assisted without a passive aggressive backhand.
I don't count myself as a detractor of StackOverflow. I have found help from members of their community to be invaluable. I do wonder if some of the feedback mechanisms sometimes encourages certain behaviors that deter less experienced and less thick-skinned programmers from interacting while enabling programmers with the "rock star" or "ninja brogrammer" mindset to set a less friendly tone. There comes a point where it's less commiserating and sharing with a community and more a necessary chore to solve a problem, and I suspect the gray area of that transition is where new users begin complaining about the tone of the site.
Sunday, November 26, 2017
Posted with Blogsy
Friday, November 3, 2017
Turning 40
I turned 40 this week.
Four decades. I remember there was a time I thought I'd grow up to "die alone as a hermit in the woods." I remember thinking maybe working as a programmer for Microsoft would be interesting. There was a time I thought I might become a marine biologist, specifically an ichthyologist, and study sharks. Later on I even flirted with the notion of working to become a successful author.
Today I'm not working for Microsoft. I don't live in the woods, although the town I reside in is rapidly withering economically and some might argue our tiny dot on the map is not far removed from being woodland. I don't even own diving equipment and am nowhere near the ocean (although we do live on a river that ends in the ocean, if you want to travel a few hundred miles.) The closest I've come to becoming an author was finishing and editing exactly one manuscript.
I'm pretty sure, at this point, that I have depression issues. I know it's more common today for people to talk about depression. For some people it is dismissed as an excuse of the week, or they brush it off as a "feeling blue" thing that you can exercise away or "just cheer up" to move past; "Just cheer up!" they say, totally ignoring that clinical depression is a thing.
While this little shadow has always been lingering to some degree in the back of my mind, I've had some things really raise that shadow higher in prominence in the past few years. It would take chapters of a book to cover details, but the highlight reel would include attempts by my wife's employer to eliminate her from her job using what could be (in my view, as this is my opinion) charitably be labeled slanderous accusations. That was a year-long ordeal that took a huge emotional and financial toll on the family.
After that drawn out mess, things finally felt like they were turning around. There was a light at the end of the tunnel! Unfortunately, it was a train's headlamp.
The employer I had come to rely on for emotional and financial support decided to terminate my contract, which is a nice way of saying I was sent home with a box of my belongings. Now it was my turn to plunge into a world of uncertainty, doubt, and the five stages of grief. I was blindsided and even the act of getting out of bed felt like fighting a dark shroud squeezing the life out of me.
Worse yet, if you feel like taking a moral stance and voicing support for teachers in the never ending fight over contracts, even if your family has been working in public education for decades, even if you do this by pointing out actual evidence straight from the faces of the people you feel are in the wrong, you might want to think twice if this takes place in a town that is turning into the economic equivalent of a mummy and you might have to return and look for a job. I made some statements that gained some traction among certain circles here; at the time I felt secure in the idea that my employment was secure in the land of gummy bears and unicorns. The reversal of fortune played right into the hands of depression's self doubt and uncertainty, whispering that "they" are laughing at my incompetence as I searched for job openings in a town propped up by Wal-Mart, McDonalds, a hospital system and the public education system whose administration and board are not pleased with you for writing something that was popular for a couple days among their staff.
I also experienced firsthand the silence from most of the people I had taken for granted as friends and associates from what I eventually came to regard as my "previous life."
These were two major events. I was already dealing with issues and stresses that many others have to deal with in life. These two major events just fanned the depression flames.
Now we have a national problem; we became a Trumpster fire nation. Every day came a new display of ignorance and people taking pride in how terrible they can be. I don't feel that there's much to act as a counterbalance against the papercuts of negativity he and his followers display.
It's been a long, stressful, painful period of time.
It's also been nearly a year since I started my new job, which gave me some sense of self worth again. Slowly it helped build up some sense of validation that I'm not worthless. I'm not sure if that makes sense or if I'm laying another misplaced sense of power into the hands of something in which I shouldn't emotionally invest. But for now it's there and helping me.
My family has been supportive during this emotional roller coaster, or tried to be. I don't think I quite acknowledge the good they do as much as I focus on negative things that families deal with. That's a side effect of both depression and Aspergian brain wiring, I think. Given the reflection hitting four decades of sentience has triggered, I think I need to continue trying to improve on that behavior.
All of these things have combined into a hazy mire that congealed into a cloud around me, affecting my worldview and keeping me in a perpetual weariness. I thought my birthday, despite being a magic number (I love the number 4, and 10 is a binary number as well as the number of digits on my hands and the number of digits on my feet, and is even, and possesses several other attributes that lend an irrational appreciation in my mind), would be yet another quiet passage marked by some cards and well wishes and soon forgotten. It was even on a Wednesday, my least favorite day for events to occur.
Usually the big booster in looking forward to my birthday is that it is preceded by Halloween. I love the idea of Halloween; the image of trick or treat, costume parties, awesome DIY costumes, parades, and horror movies are so much fun for me. But this year was different; the Friday before my birthday brought an announcement that indictments were coming against Trumpster acquaintances! After an anticipation-filled weekend, Monday had people brought in to testify, and we discovered one of his campaign associates had already pled guilty to lying to police and was cooperating with investigators!
We went out for dinner on my birthday with my in-laws and parents. One of the TV's played MSNBC's coverage of Trump's Russian connections and the mounting investigations. I was giddy.
My birthday was also marked by the Daily Show having an interview with Hillary Clinton. I don't know why that made me happy...I guess because she's the symbol of everything "I told you so" during the Presidential election.
These were things that worked to fight the shroud of depression whispering in my ear, and were totally counter to the idea that my 40th birthday would be quiet. These were things that were happy events for me.
There were other, not so happy events that marked the birthday-time. Unexpected shocks like the guy who rented a truck and ran over bike riders in downtown Manhattan. Because he wasn't white, it was labeled as an act of terrorism, unlike the recent Vegas shooting of around 600 people by a white guy where the fallout is basically several people going bankrupt from medical bills and modifications the shooter made to his guns staying perfectly legal and Congress clutching pearls at the idea that nothing can prevent these things from happening.
Yet another shocking event involved layoffs at a previous employer. I discovered it as oddly worded and vague tweets began floating along my Twitter timeline; today there was a Techcrunch article giving conflicting details of what had happened. In the end I could only confirm that a relatively large number of people were let go, some of whom I knew and had worked with so it wasn't just trimming the newest of hires. In keeping with the "Me me me!" theme, this news caused me to revisit all the thoughts of despair and hopelessness that I felt as my wife drove me home from the apartment after I was told my time there had ended. I empathized with what must be a swirl of confusion and fear that these people now feel. I also watched as people who escaped the cutting block echoed their support for one another and words of sadness to their departed colleagues. Selfishly I felt like the bandage was ripped off an old wound.
I turned 40 this week.
Nothing I thought was going to happen as a teen happened. Getting older shifted into a pattern where almost every day blended into the next; mostly unremarkable, smeared with a veneer of depression and frustration, life is mostly a comfortable pattern of routine. I expected it to be yet another average day, but this birthday was marked with some surprises. Some good. Some bad. But one thing this birthday wasn't is uneventful.
Four decades. I remember there was a time I thought I'd grow up to "die alone as a hermit in the woods." I remember thinking maybe working as a programmer for Microsoft would be interesting. There was a time I thought I might become a marine biologist, specifically an ichthyologist, and study sharks. Later on I even flirted with the notion of working to become a successful author.
Today I'm not working for Microsoft. I don't live in the woods, although the town I reside in is rapidly withering economically and some might argue our tiny dot on the map is not far removed from being woodland. I don't even own diving equipment and am nowhere near the ocean (although we do live on a river that ends in the ocean, if you want to travel a few hundred miles.) The closest I've come to becoming an author was finishing and editing exactly one manuscript.
I'm pretty sure, at this point, that I have depression issues. I know it's more common today for people to talk about depression. For some people it is dismissed as an excuse of the week, or they brush it off as a "feeling blue" thing that you can exercise away or "just cheer up" to move past; "Just cheer up!" they say, totally ignoring that clinical depression is a thing.
While this little shadow has always been lingering to some degree in the back of my mind, I've had some things really raise that shadow higher in prominence in the past few years. It would take chapters of a book to cover details, but the highlight reel would include attempts by my wife's employer to eliminate her from her job using what could be (in my view, as this is my opinion) charitably be labeled slanderous accusations. That was a year-long ordeal that took a huge emotional and financial toll on the family.
After that drawn out mess, things finally felt like they were turning around. There was a light at the end of the tunnel! Unfortunately, it was a train's headlamp.
The employer I had come to rely on for emotional and financial support decided to terminate my contract, which is a nice way of saying I was sent home with a box of my belongings. Now it was my turn to plunge into a world of uncertainty, doubt, and the five stages of grief. I was blindsided and even the act of getting out of bed felt like fighting a dark shroud squeezing the life out of me.
Worse yet, if you feel like taking a moral stance and voicing support for teachers in the never ending fight over contracts, even if your family has been working in public education for decades, even if you do this by pointing out actual evidence straight from the faces of the people you feel are in the wrong, you might want to think twice if this takes place in a town that is turning into the economic equivalent of a mummy and you might have to return and look for a job. I made some statements that gained some traction among certain circles here; at the time I felt secure in the idea that my employment was secure in the land of gummy bears and unicorns. The reversal of fortune played right into the hands of depression's self doubt and uncertainty, whispering that "they" are laughing at my incompetence as I searched for job openings in a town propped up by Wal-Mart, McDonalds, a hospital system and the public education system whose administration and board are not pleased with you for writing something that was popular for a couple days among their staff.
I also experienced firsthand the silence from most of the people I had taken for granted as friends and associates from what I eventually came to regard as my "previous life."
These were two major events. I was already dealing with issues and stresses that many others have to deal with in life. These two major events just fanned the depression flames.
Now we have a national problem; we became a Trumpster fire nation. Every day came a new display of ignorance and people taking pride in how terrible they can be. I don't feel that there's much to act as a counterbalance against the papercuts of negativity he and his followers display.
It's been a long, stressful, painful period of time.
It's also been nearly a year since I started my new job, which gave me some sense of self worth again. Slowly it helped build up some sense of validation that I'm not worthless. I'm not sure if that makes sense or if I'm laying another misplaced sense of power into the hands of something in which I shouldn't emotionally invest. But for now it's there and helping me.
My family has been supportive during this emotional roller coaster, or tried to be. I don't think I quite acknowledge the good they do as much as I focus on negative things that families deal with. That's a side effect of both depression and Aspergian brain wiring, I think. Given the reflection hitting four decades of sentience has triggered, I think I need to continue trying to improve on that behavior.
All of these things have combined into a hazy mire that congealed into a cloud around me, affecting my worldview and keeping me in a perpetual weariness. I thought my birthday, despite being a magic number (I love the number 4, and 10 is a binary number as well as the number of digits on my hands and the number of digits on my feet, and is even, and possesses several other attributes that lend an irrational appreciation in my mind), would be yet another quiet passage marked by some cards and well wishes and soon forgotten. It was even on a Wednesday, my least favorite day for events to occur.
Usually the big booster in looking forward to my birthday is that it is preceded by Halloween. I love the idea of Halloween; the image of trick or treat, costume parties, awesome DIY costumes, parades, and horror movies are so much fun for me. But this year was different; the Friday before my birthday brought an announcement that indictments were coming against Trumpster acquaintances! After an anticipation-filled weekend, Monday had people brought in to testify, and we discovered one of his campaign associates had already pled guilty to lying to police and was cooperating with investigators!
We went out for dinner on my birthday with my in-laws and parents. One of the TV's played MSNBC's coverage of Trump's Russian connections and the mounting investigations. I was giddy.
My birthday was also marked by the Daily Show having an interview with Hillary Clinton. I don't know why that made me happy...I guess because she's the symbol of everything "I told you so" during the Presidential election.
These were things that worked to fight the shroud of depression whispering in my ear, and were totally counter to the idea that my 40th birthday would be quiet. These were things that were happy events for me.
There were other, not so happy events that marked the birthday-time. Unexpected shocks like the guy who rented a truck and ran over bike riders in downtown Manhattan. Because he wasn't white, it was labeled as an act of terrorism, unlike the recent Vegas shooting of around 600 people by a white guy where the fallout is basically several people going bankrupt from medical bills and modifications the shooter made to his guns staying perfectly legal and Congress clutching pearls at the idea that nothing can prevent these things from happening.
Yet another shocking event involved layoffs at a previous employer. I discovered it as oddly worded and vague tweets began floating along my Twitter timeline; today there was a Techcrunch article giving conflicting details of what had happened. In the end I could only confirm that a relatively large number of people were let go, some of whom I knew and had worked with so it wasn't just trimming the newest of hires. In keeping with the "Me me me!" theme, this news caused me to revisit all the thoughts of despair and hopelessness that I felt as my wife drove me home from the apartment after I was told my time there had ended. I empathized with what must be a swirl of confusion and fear that these people now feel. I also watched as people who escaped the cutting block echoed their support for one another and words of sadness to their departed colleagues. Selfishly I felt like the bandage was ripped off an old wound.
I turned 40 this week.
Nothing I thought was going to happen as a teen happened. Getting older shifted into a pattern where almost every day blended into the next; mostly unremarkable, smeared with a veneer of depression and frustration, life is mostly a comfortable pattern of routine. I expected it to be yet another average day, but this birthday was marked with some surprises. Some good. Some bad. But one thing this birthday wasn't is uneventful.
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