and Words
You’ve gone too far this time
But I’m dancing on the Valentine
I tell you somebody’s fooling around
With my chances on the danger line
I’ll cross that bridge when I find it
Another day to make my stand, oh woah
High time is no time for deciding
If I should find a helping hand, oh woah
Lyric excerpts from Musixmatch.
I got horrifically poor grades during my freshman year in high school. I didn’t try to get poor grades; I simply didn’t care. At that stage of my life, I simply drifted. I moved like a car when we lift our foot off the brake. I moved but barely and with no purpose or destination. Neither angst nor frustration filled me. If anything filled me at all was apathy. I’m surprised that it didn’t end up more horrifically, but even in my apathy, my mind captured facts and some subjects came naturally.
On my second year in high school, I turned things around. Truthfully, I can’t tell you precisely what changed, though I have some educated guesses. That return to academics started with an uncharacteristically practical class: typing. Each morning, I wondered into the second-floor hallway with the business classes. Entered a large, brightly lit room with small desks arranged into neat rows. Each desk held an IBM Selectric typewriter; this was my main tool of the trade for one hour each morning.
Even at this stage in my life, I anticipated that computers would be a part of my future. Learning to operate them quickly and efficiently would be an essential skill needed to conduct my work.
What I didn’t anticipate that computers would be ubiquitous. In high school, geeks used computers for just a handful of tasks, but we scoped their use to mostly that. They resembled other tools used by sewing machines to seamstresses or bandsaws to carpenters. In 1980, no one expected everyone to have a computer or multiple for that matter. Yet here we are.
Still dutifully, I struck those keys each morning. Even being an electric typewriter, each key traveled far and registered with a satisfying click on each stroke. Mrs. Berchielli, our teacher, drilled us each morning. Our fingers instinctively landed on the home keys as we committed the QWERTY keyboard layout to muscle memory. At first, it was simply about striking each key. Naturally, much of the class centered around the mechanics of the typewriter. We adjusted margins and tab stops. We understood how to write reports on white sheets of unlined paper, and how to center and underline titles.
On the occasional morning in that typing class decades ago, we would arrange to get bagels and cream cheese. We somehow toasted them and then schmeared them with cream cheese. We sat on our respective desks with a bagel as we started our day. Some of us started on our assignments and divided our attention between the food and the typewriter, occasionally leaving traces of white cream cheese on the keys.
Bradley who sat next to me on the adjoining desk. He was pleasant and spoke jovially. He never spoke of anything of particular consequence or importance, at least not to me. It was mostly fluff. On one such morning, he hummed and sang the words to Duran Duran’s The Reflex. Hearing the lyrics to this song, remind me of Bradley’s singing with the slight nasal slur along with the chorus of keys of the surrounding typewriters.
Eventually, typing was about the struggle of “Speed versus accuracy”. Making mistakes on a typewriter is different than a computer keyboard, which generally allows you to just press backspace enough times to undo your mistake. Typing mistakes require the use of white-out liquid or tape to correct the mistake, and it cost you considerable time. Much like missing an exit on the freeway; mistakes are expensive.
This is an analogy that I still use today, and this compromise applies to much more than just typing. Whenever I see someone rushing through a task and making too many mistakes, I tell them precisely this: “Speed versus accuracy”. You can do something quickly or you can do it well, but you can’t do it both quickly and well. Pick one.
Furthermore, the next valuable lesson centered around pacing your work. Many people starting to type will do so in bursts; they’ll type many keys and then slow. The more proficient typists will strike those keys at a very even pace, much like playing musical notes to a metronome. The quick burst of keys from the former may lead you to believe that they’re faster; they’re not. The most efficient typists are the ones that do it steadily and persistently.
This too became a life lesson. When it comes to engineering work, consistency and reliability matters. It matters when it comes to completing the work, and it matters to those relying on you. Even as a consumer, knowing when a particular product or feature becomes available allows you make decisions and plan your life. Let’s ponder about Tesla’s woes on delivering on the true promise of self-driving cars or the endless Boeing’s Starline delays.
While the class was billed as business class, it was really just about typing. Sure, we typed reports, but it’s about typing reports. No spreadsheets, no word processing, presentations, etc. The 1980’s predated all that. While perhaps unexpected, though not entirely ironic were the lessons about compromise and consistency, which I carried through engineering school and beyond.
Even today, I remain a typing enthusiast. The fascination morphed from the old IBM Selectric typewriters to computer keyboard with adequate keys and feedback. It started with a Das Keyboard and progressed from there. The modern version of this hinges on switches, the mechanism that registers the keystrokes. There are geeky graphs that explain the point in which keys register compared to the resistance we feel from the key as we press down. The ones I prefer are Cherry MX Blue switches; though I’m merely a padawan in this field. You may develop your own favorite based on engagement point, resistance, key travel, etc.
Practically every computer I use with any kind of regularity as a mechanical keyboard with Cherry MX Blue switches. This includes multiple at home and multiple at work. I’ve even retrofitted my Surface Book laptop to accommodate a 65% mechanical keyboard. When I get into a typing groove, most often while writing one of these posts, my wife will listen as the keys will continue to click a little too loudly for her taste. She simply glares at me and smiles while she bumps the volume on the television a tad louder.