Scrum Board Funeral

    - You served us faithfully. - sad and solemnly said John, standing next to the scrum-board. “But we can't keep you alive anymore.” Sorry.

    - Johnny, what are you doing? - cheerfully asked Rebecca.

    - Today is a sad and solemn day. - turned to a fun, young, albeit inexperienced girl programmer John. - Come on, sister!

    Rebecca rose from her chair, and skipped to John.

    - Make a sad face. - strictly said John. - Come on.

    Rebecca, as she could, depicted sadness. Enough for a couple of seconds - not the character to stay in a bad mood for a long time - and smiled again.

    - What is going on, John? She asked.

    - Everything. The end. And me, and scrum-board. - the commander answered seriously.

    “Talked badly with Bob?” - smile disappeared from Rebecca's face.

    - Well, how to say ... - John sighed. - If the project is not closed in a month, I’m finished. And the blackboard is ending today. Bob had some kind of bazik, ordered to get rid of all the scrum paraphernalia.

    - It is high time. - muttered Eugene. - I told you, nonsense is all. I made up some scars, just not to work. We are programmers, we need to write code.

    - Do not puff, grandma! Shouted John. - Soon they'll kick me out, they'll take you away by teams, get to one of these, how about them ... In short, they also think that you just need to write code. Then you will get pleasure.

    “My pleasure is ...” Eugene began to prick.

    - Oh, everything, do not start. - John waved his hand. - The correct you are ours. Did the panel finish?

    - What do you mean when you say "panel"? - Eugene picturefully lounged in the chair.

    - Yes, that's it ... - John ran his eyes on the scrum-board, found a sticker, took off and shook in his hand. - Dashboard account properties settings.

    - Strictly speaking, this is not a panel. - began to deliver Eugene. - I used an abstract component, the same as ...

    - Well, that’s it. - interrupted John. - Do not bother to bury the board. Becky, where is the screwdriver?

    Rebecca happily rushed to the table, rummaged in the drawer, took out a small Phillips screwdriver, handed it to John. He took a screwdriver in his hands, began to turn it between his fingers and look at the board.

    - Becky, take off the stickers, please. - he said, finally.

    Rebecca silently rushed to remove the yellow pieces of paper, and gently fold them on the table. When the work was finished, John walked closer to the board and stared at it, as if trying to see something.

    - What, Johnny? - Rebecca stood beside her, and also stared at the board.

    - I do not know. - sadly said John. - As if striking out a part of my life. How to explain to you ...

    - Nothing needs to be explained. - the same tone answered Rebecca. - I understand.

    - What do you understand there? - smiled John. - Do you think I'm crying now?

    - Of course not. - Becky was embarrassed. - Although, if you want, I will not tell anyone ...

    - Becky. - strictly said John.

    - Okay.

    The cabinet door opened suddenly, and Harry entered - business-like, smart, dressed in a strict white shirt and trousers with arrows. Such an appearance was supposed to give Harry seriousness, to show his ambitions, but he played a cruel joke with him - among programmers he looked like a swan at a poultry farm. The management has also never evaluated his tendency to officialdom - does it matter what, who should be carved into half carcasses, a broiler or a swan?

    “What the hell ...” Harry stopped, noticing an empty board. - Where are the stickers? How will I hold a rally?

    - Mr. Scrum master, please ask. - John moved helpfully towards John. - Say a few words goodbye.

    - What the devil farewell? Harry asked blankly, and thought for a few seconds. Then, suddenly, his face lit up with a thought. - Oh, I get it! Board change? Cork came, which I ordered?

    - No, dear. - John picturesquely bowed his head, then raised his hand and laid it on Harry's shoulder, as if wanting to support in a difficult moment. - Cork board will not. I'm sorry. And this, metal, too.

    “What is going on here?” - slipped out from under Harry's hand. - What kind of clowning, John?

    - Bob said to remove the boards. And scrum.

    - How? Why?

    - Long story. Take off your epaulets.

    - What are epaulets?

    - Epaulettes scrum master. - smiled John. - You will no longer do with us ... How is it ... The faecalisation?

    - Facilitation. - with a slight hurt answered Harry. - Wait ... are you serious?

    - Yes.

    Harry shut up. Judging by his face, the train of thought was fast, but very sad, and with every second the state of Harry’s ambitions was getting worse.

    - I know you loved this crap. - smiled John.

    - In terms of? What the hell is that? - Harry was angry. - Since when did the rules and order become crap? I clearly fulfilled my duties to hold rallies and retrospectives, all in accordance with the Scram Guide.

    - Oh yeah. - John nodded. - As soon as the words scram and regulations get on in your head, I cannot understand it. Okay, don't worry.

    - Why not bathe? How are we going to do the project? Again the cascade? Or what? Kanban? BUT?

    - I do not know. - shrugged John. - Your suggestions?

    Harry became thoughtful. In order not to lose time, John began to unscrew the board.

    - Let's cascade. - finally said Harry. - I will make a schedule and draw a Gantt chart. I will manage the project through the old, proven methods.

    - Will you manage the project? - the screwdriver almost fell out of the hands of John.

    - Well, yes and what? - Harry was confused.

    - What do you think that?

    “Well ...” Harry painfully tried to find a quick answer. - No, of course, you will manage the project, and I will do all the dirty work, with pieces of paper there, numbers, deadlines ...

    - Oh, you. - John smiled and continued to unscrew the board. - Like a cat, you always fall on its paws. And why are you so drawn to all the pseudo-managerial crap?

    - Someone has to keep order. Said Harry softly. “You don't love this, I just wanted to help you ...

    ” “Thank you, buddy.” - John was distracted from the board, and bowed to the level of the belt.

    - Yah you. - waved his hand to Harry and went to his computer.

    Finally, John coped with the screws that hung the board. Looking around, John did not find anything more interesting than just putting the board on the floor.

    - What's next, Johnny? - sadly asked Rebecca.

    - I do not know. - shrug, quietly said the commander. - I have a month. Scrum can not be used, and the sense of it ...

    - Maybe the truth, Kanban? - Becky asked hopefully. “Or what else Harry called ...

    ” “Not enough time.” While we understand, while we introduce, while we get comfortable - I’ll be on the street already.

    - You will not be on the street, John! - with trepidation said Becky. - You are a very good developer, you will definitely find a job! Don't even worry!

    “Well, yes ...” John thought. - It’s definitely not worth experiencing ...

    - You will definitely invent something! - pulled a smile on Rebecca's face. - I believe in you! You have a very bright head!

    “Head, yes ...” John smiled. - And Bob said so. Not about the fact that the light, it is you alone think so.

    - And what did he say?

    - He said to think with his head.

    - Great advice! - Becky blurted out. - Let's think together?

    - No, Becky, go to work. I want to be alone.

    - Of course of course! - Rebecca hastily retired to her computer.

    John, although Rebecca's attitude was pleasant, but he couldn't take it for long. All too quickly, Becky was starting to resemble a small dog, with irrepressible energy and a penchant for licking her master's face. John did not want to be licked, and did not intend to exploit Rebecca’s tendency to adore the commander, since considered such behavior dishonest.

    Sitting on a chair, John picked up a stack of stickers removed from the board. A task was briefly written on each — somewhere in a form that the programmer could understand, and somewhere — in the words of the customer. At the bottom of each piece of paper was a mark in the story points - the complexity of the problem, assessed by the team on the method of planning poker. On some stickers the performer was marked - those that were removed from the sprint backlog.

    - Tom! Shouted John suddenly.

    It was always necessary to turn to Tom loudly, otherwise he would not hear - expensive, high-quality headphones with mad rock reliably protected the programmer from external influence. And this time, Tom did not hear anything. Rebecca, as always, came to the rescue - got up from her chair, and began to swing her arms violently, attracting Tom's attention.

    - What? - Tom, finally, took off his headphones and began to look around in confusion. The absence of the board of Tom was not surprised - he was not surprised at all.

    - Scratch here. - John waved his hand, beckoning to Tom.

    - I'm going. - Tom began to get out of his refuge awkwardly - his table stood in a corner, turned with a facade inside the cabinet, only a narrow passage remained by the wall. Tom liked it better.

    - Listen. - Said John, when Tom came up and bent over a bunch of stickers. - It would be necessary to drive them somewhere, in electronic form. And how to work with them will be lost.

    - Where? - Tom did not go into the details and reasons for this task.

    - I do not know ... Your suggestions?

    - Well, the easiest way is to spreadsheet.

    - And how are we going to watch it?

    - Share on the network, or in the cloud.

    - Better in the cloud. - John nodded. - Spreadsheet in the cloud. Fine. So ...
    Tom stood patiently waiting for John to formulate a thought.

    - The columns are - the name of the problem, points, performer.

    - OK. - said Tom, grabbed stickers from the table and went to his nook.

    - Wait ... - rang out after.

    Tom meekly stopped, turned to the boss and prepared to listen.

    - Oh well, do bye ... - John waved his hand.

    Tom shrugged and climbed over to his computer. Rebecca looked at John with intense hope. Seeing this look, John sighed and gestured Becky to him.

    - Invented something, Johnny? - briskly running up, Rebecca sat beside her.

    “Yes, I don’t know ...” John said thoughtfully, looking at the place where the board had recently hung. - I was always infuriated with some inconvenience in working with stickers.

    - What kind?

    - First, the complexity of the calculations. We do not keep them in electronic form, and every time you want to know the backlog volume, or there is the speed of the sprint, we must take the pieces of paper and manually, on the calculator, count.

    - This is part of the scram methodology! - There was a scream from the corner where Harry was sitting. - No bureaucracy, no systems, just stickers!

    - Nobody scolds bureaucracy as much as bureaucrats. - smiled John. - Come here, Mr. former scrum master.

    “Yes, you go ...” Harry grumbled.

    - Come on, otherwise you will be without responsibilities.

    Harry, after thinking for a few seconds, got up from his chair, walked over to John and sat in the empty chair.

    - Do you agree with the transfer of stickers into a spreadsheet? - asked John.

    - This is contrary to the method of scram. - repeated Harry.

    - No more scrum. Forget.

    “I’d love to, but ...”

    - Harry, you got it already! - John could not resist. - That's the end, do you understand? If you say this word somewhere again, and Bob hears him - and he is given, be sure - then you will go and show off your white shirts to some other place.

    Harry pissed off.

    - You are an engineer, I am an engineer, both studied in colleges. - continued jittery John. - What, you and I can't figure out how to manage the development and the project? Or what, scram and other techniques invented the Nobel laureates? Oh, Harry? The same engineers as we are with you! And they made it up themselves, based on the practice of their work!

    “Yes, I understand ...” Harry said conciliatoryly. - Simply, you understand, with a technique it is somehow easier, or something ... I do not know.

    - I understand. - John calmed down a bit. - The technique removes responsibility. Do, as they said, in the same guide on the Scram, and do not worry about anything. And if it does not work, then the technique is to blame. So it happened with Bob.

    - Well yes. - nodded Harry. - Well, what do you suggest?

    - First, as I said, we drive into a spreadsheet. We will always see the amount of work - done, remaining, current speed and so on. By the way ... Tom!

    Without waiting for an explosion of emotions, Rebecca jumped, ran to Tom and violently began to shake his shoulder. He took off the headphones, and, as if nothing had happened, stared at John.

    - I forgot, still need a column with a mark of execution. - said John. - There you can then collect points with a filter? Well, the amount for the unfulfilled, the amount for the closed?

    - Can. Right now, I'll think about it ... I'll do it, in short. Everything?

    - No, wait ... Please add the due date.

    - Okay. And what for?

    - So that it was possible to collect in sprints, otherwise we will not understand what was done and when.

    - Good. - Tom nodded. - Everything?

    - Yes, while all. Disconnect.

    Tom put on his headphones and stared at the monitor. Rebecca, just in case, stood a little longer beside him - suddenly John remembers something.

    “Okay, for now.” - sighed John. - Everybody work. Let's wait for Tom to inject the data.
    Rebecca and Harry left, taking their places at their computers. John also went to the computer - it would be nice to check the mail.

    An hour later, Tom took off his headphones, and loudly announced that he had finished.

    - What is it? - John got up from his chair and went to Tom.

    - Here you go. - pointed to the monitor Tom. - Spreadsheet, all the stickers hammered.

    “So ...” John looked at the table. - What is the total backlog size?

    - A thousand and twenty story points. - answered Tom.

    “So this is ...” John pondered a little. - Let's not call the story points of the story points. And then Bob will hear, get to the bottom.

    - But as? Harry asked from his seat. - parrots? Dogs?

    - Never mind. - shrugged John. - Dogs, so dogs. Although no, somehow infantile ... Let them be just points. OK?

    - OK. - nodded Harry.

    - So, a thousand and twenty points must be done in a month. - continued John. - Harry, what is our speed in the last sprint?

    “Now ...” Harry began to rummage around his desk. Found a notebook, flipped through. - One hundred and twenty story points.

    - Points. - corrected John.

    - Yes, points. One hundred and twenty points we did together last week.

    - And before last?

    - One hundred and twenty eight.

    - A week ago?

    “So ...” Harry began flipping through his notebook again. - One hundred and two.

    - There Chris was sick! - said Rebecca. - He was gone for two days, so they failed.

    - Oh, yes. - John nodded. - Where is he today, by the way?

    - I do not know. - Becky said frightened. - To find?

    - Then. - John waved his hand. - So. In a week we make one hundred and twenty points. Four weeks left. So we can make four hundred and eighty points. And you need a thousand.

    - A thousand and twenty. - corrected Harry.

    “What the fuck ...” began John. “Okay, Harry, thanks for the amendment.” One hell do not have time.

    - We can work on the weekend! Said Rebecca gaily. - It is necessary, then it is necessary!

    - We still do not have time. - sighed John. - In the month of eight weekends, this is another fifteen working weeks, that is, another one hundred and eighty points. A total of six hundred and sixty.

    - I am ready to work in the evenings! - Rebecca did not let up.

    - I'm not ready. Said Eugene again. - You, of course, excuse me, but I'm not going to die at work, like your scrum-board.

    - Yes, you ... - Becky sizzled.

    - Stop, Rebecca. - strictly said John. - No one will work either in the evenings or on weekends. I have always been and always will be against the use of personal time for work. It is not worth it.

    - But what about, Johnny! - Rebecca pleaded. - After all, you get fired!

    - I have already accepted, Becky. - smiled John. - I have nothing to lose, but I'm not going to give up. If this is the last month of my work in the company, then I will spend it, fiercely floundering and trying to do everything in my power.

    - Good luck! - smiled Eugene.

    - Yeah, and you do not get sick. - did not succumb to the provocation of John.

    - But how, Johnny? - Becky was ready to cry. “We cannot do twice the work ...

    ” “We can, we cannot ...” John shrugged. - No choice. We'll come up with something.

    Also popular now: