I was chatting with a colleague who’s working with a software startup. He was bemoaning their practice of writing sloppy code and spending all their time debugging it.
He’s convinced they could save a lot of time and money if they were more careful in the original development, but the problem doesn’t seem to bother anyone. They’re happy with continuous trial and error.
It reminded me of a managerial statistics course I had in college. We had already had two semesters of statistics, so this was fairly sophisticated stuff. The professor was Japanese, a knowledgeable and amiable guy named Kobayashi.
We had four one-hour exams and a final. The hourly exams consisted of four problems each worth 25 points. They were open book. Each student would have slightly different problems and different data sets. He didn’t care if we copied from each other, as we’d be guaranteed to get wrong answers.
On my first trip to Japan years later, I realized Professor Kobayashi was no anomaly. That country has lots of brilliant people like him.
We were astounded when he gave us back the corrected exams at the following class, as we all got deplorable grades.
I was expecting a 92 or a 94, but got 8 out of 100 points, and I was in the top echelon. We told him all of our other professors would give 23 points for using the right techniques and another two points for getting the right answer.
“Sorry, gentlemen (it was an engineering school, hardly any women back then), they weren’t doing you any favors! I give two points for the right technique and 23 points for the right answer.
“You guys are seniors. Next year, you should be making good salaries. Your employers pay those expecting you to give them the right answers. Every wrong answer costs money, sometimes lots and lots of money. Telling your employer you used the right technique will buy you nothing. Sloppy answers will make you a lousy investment, and you’ll lose your jobs.
“Some of you might want to use me as a reference in your job search, and I can’t give you a good one unless you can demonstrate your ability to give the right answers. My reputation is important to me.”
“But we’re seniors; this will ruin our cumes!” “I’m a merciful man. Now, that you understand the game, I’m willing to drop your worst test score, which for most of you, I assume will be this particular exam. Learn the lesson, and it won’t count against you.”
I’m not proud of this, but we were furious. Some of the guys even wanted to choke him. Thankfully, everyone left him alone and followed his advice, some of the most valuable advice we had gotten from anyone.
In retrospect, he was the first professor who actually tried to prepare us for the real world. Some of our other professors taught at M.I.T. In some cases, we took the same exams. But it was Kobayashi that reduced the whole thing to reality. Has anyone ever wanted to pay you for a wrong answer?
So, what is wrong today? Errors have become so commonplace; we practically expect them.
I have my medical history and medications summary, which I give to the receptionist when I visit a medical office. I have an extra copy for the doctor and ask him/her to use this one. It’s right. They know exactly what I’m talking about.
Even worse, some people stand by their errors thinking they’re right. Paying for my lunch one day, they gave me an extra $10 in change. When I pointed this out, she and the manager insisted they were right. “I’m sorry. The only way this could be right is if I had given you a $30 bill. They don’t exist. Do you really think I’m trying to cheat you by giving you an extra $10?” We often make decisions on incorrect information. The people who provide it aren’t lying; they think they’re telling the truth. But they haven’t done their homework to verify the information.
We need a lot more Kobayashis now more than ever.
Ronald J. Bourque, a consultant and speaker from Salem, has had engagements throughout the United States, Europe and Asia. He can be reached at 603-898-1871 or RonBourque3@gmail.com.