When it’s gobbledygook. This month I am mostly reading about diagnostic systems standards with a view to implementing one. There seemed to be lots of UML in the document. UML is a “language” which is represented in diagrams rather than words, but which nevertheless has defined meaning attached to the various arrows boxes and labels. So I begged and borrowed books on UML and now I “parlay voo” UML to some degree. Enough to know that the complex and subtle points this document seeks to make are lost in a wash of shoddy diagrams. Here I try to give a flavour of the quality of their UML by way of a description of a car in English.
“A car is a certain type of vehicle. It has four whales, a diver and a fool tank. Fool goes into the tank and the engine runs. Exhaust goes in the exhaust pipe and the engine runs. When the engine breaks the diver press the breaks. When the diver press the pedal apart from the breaks, the car goes. The four whales fills with air through the blow-holes and are made of blubber treads. Blubber treads is worn when the pedal no longer breaks. A passenger is a type of seat, which is related to a diver by attachment to the bottom.”
Thankfully this document specifies diagnostic equipment, not the software that runs our cars.
I’ve now had a few requests to enable comments in this blog so here’s another attempt. I don’t know why it didn’t work the first time I tried but… blah anyway I needed to post to make it work so here you go.
I had occasion to show remorse this morning. I normally get into work around 10a.m. whereas today it was much closer to 9. The traffic is very different at the ‘rush hour’ than the usual time of my commute. On the way into work is an interesting new layout: A dual carriageway with a roundabout on it. They recently changed the layout so that although the exit to the roundabout is also a dual carriageway, the left lane of it is now a filter into the petrol station so there is a brief bottleneck for traffic wishing to continue down the dual carriageway. I have developed a habit for this obstacle: on the first bit of dual carriageway I will pass lots of traffic, then I’ll check the roundabout way ahead (it’s nice and visible) and simply not slow down for it. The car in the left lane invariably does, and I’m usually leaving the roundabout at about the time it is entering it. Occasionally there will be a car coming and I’ll have to wait. In that case I need to lap the roundabout to get back into the flow of traffic but on balance it’s worth it.
That’s at the 10a.m. slot. At 9a.m. the traffic is very much more dense, and to cut a long story short, I ended up slightly cutting up a colleague on his motorbike. OOPS.
Of course I apologised at the first opportunity and he was very gallant about it all. But that got me to thinking about the nature of apology. There are a few dimensions to saying sorry: A politician will “Express Regret” which is tantamount to saying “It’s a pity about that” - it says you’d rather it didn’t happen again, but does not admit any blame. An ex of mine would issue a justification rather than an apology - “… and anyway it would’ve been alright if YOU hadn’t blah blah” trying to foist blame elsewhere. Children will “say sorry” because they are being blackmailed. It often says nothing more than “I want to get on with playing and you seem to want me to go through this formality first”.
The person receiving the apology nearly always wants one thing, however: the feeling that the transgressor knows what he/she did wrong and will try to amend his/her ways - that he/she repents. There are a couple of obstacles to this kind of genuine heartfelt apology: (1) it’s hard to admit guilt to yourself and (2) sometimes it’s foolish to admit guilt to others, like in the politician’s case. A politician can’t afford to let guilt stick or the mob will stick a wedge in there and bay for resignation etc.
This is also true in car accidents. You insurer probably forbids you from saying sorry in a car accident. This is a great pity because it makes it harder to diffuse the emotions that run through such a situation, and anyay it’s a non-sequitur that saying sorry admits guilt: If you said you were sorry someone’s gran had died, you’d hardly be hauled up for murder. The car accident is a special case because blame is costly and will have to be decided: I guess the trick here is to express sympathy without giving an opening for blame to adhere.
For me, when I am guilty I try always to ackowledge it to myself, even if the situation prevents me from admitting it to others. But to genuinely feel sympathy and regret, and to repent if applicable, adds so much to an apology. Except with the guy from Tesco.
The out-of-town Tesco near to me had one-way arrows all over the car park aisles, alternating except for the end two which were both the same way. Having headed down one of them and spied a space in the adjacent aisle, I rounded the end and nipped in the end against the arrow. As I was parking up I spied a security guy walking with that peculiar gait reserved for police constables and security people who are about to talk to a suspect - I believe it’s called “proceeding”. As I was finishing up my manuoevre I realised he was proceeding to speak to me. A quick check of my situation. What authority do the signs have? Er it’s not the public highway… What authority does HE have? None unless I do something stupid like assault him. What’s the most he can hope for? An apology. I wound down the window.
“You do realise you were going the wrong way just then?”
“Sorry.” I said, not showing a shred of remorse.
“You went the wrong way and…”
“Sorry” I interrupted and gave him a look that dared him to try again.
He went away.