Content feeds are infinite, but our time & attention remain finite. Each scroll becomes a small act of self-definition. Little darts aimed toward the mind. Over time we become what we ingest, resembling a collage crafted from moments we’ve deemed worthy of our focus. Choose these moments wisely.
Seth Godin writing on AI’s inability to lie:
AI is a tool, and judgment, for the foreseeable future, remains our job. It doesn’t matter how cool your hammer is, it’s still on you to decide which nails need hammering.
I believe this rationale can be extended beyond AI, to most things in life.
George Pickens traded to the Cowboys in exchange for multiple draft picks. Not sure how I feel about it to be honest.
Part of me wanted to see both GP and DK on the field at the same time for the Steelers, but I realize this next season will likely be a rebuilding year. 🏈
I envy product thinkers who operate within the context of a lean and born-digital startup. Product strategy is never easy, but building technology in this environment becomes fairly straightforward. Write code, test, deploy. Rinse and repeat. Or some variation of this. But try bringing that same approach into a complex physical environment like a retail store, and suddenly you’re not just a product manager – you’re part ringmaster, part therapist, and part exorcist for technology that seems possessed by real-world demons.
I’ve spent the last two decades building tech designed to be used in physical space – first in museums, then in retail organizations – and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the gap between the digital roadmap and the reality of the floor is extremely wide.
First, there’s the idealism divide. Most technologists think about users as disembodied entities who interact with software in predictable, often ideal, ways. This is the happy path mentality. Meanwhile, most retail associates are often juggling many scenarios at once: a customer who’s trying to return a swimsuit they bought 6 months ago, a thief trying to steal an expensive piece of outerwear, a random question about product specs, or a manager who’s just informed them they need to be cross-trained on a new area of the store – all while attempting to use enterprise systems on six-year-old hardware.
Then there’s the physical environment itself. That sleek tablet kiosk we designed? It’s now positioned directly under an HVAC vent that drips condensation like a leaky faucet. That in-aisle digital display meant to guide customers? It’s been commandeered as a support pole for seasonal decoration. And the once-white customer-facing payment terminal now bears the fingerprint smudges of a thousand customers.
Let’s not forget connectivity. In the product requirements, the system requires a stable internet connection. In reality, we’re dealing with large-scale Faraday cages that create spotty Wi-Fi at best.
The gap between digital intention and physical implementation creates a special kind of cognitive dissonance. Most product managers are trained to think in terms of user journeys and personas, only to watch customers use the self-checkout as a surface to scratch off a lottery ticket. I’ve grown to love this dichotomy over the years.
Within this chaos lies a peculiar beauty. Unlike purely digital products, retail tech exists in a messy, human world – one where success is measured by metrics, of course, but also the absence of complaints. The most elegant product isn’t the one with the cleanest code or the most impressive AI; it’s the one that works when the Wi-Fi doesn’t, when the user hasn’t slept, and when reality refuses to conform to a carefully plotted customer journey.
I’ve found the best retail tech product managers develop a kind of zen-like mindset. We learn to let go of digital perfection and embrace analog reality. We don’t build for the ideal conditions of the demo environment. We build for the beautiful disaster that is actual retail.
So the next time you’re struggling to operate a seemingly simple piece of technology in a store, know that somewhere a product manager is observing, taking notes, and going back to the drawing board to try once again to bridge the gap between the binary code and the bricks-and-mortar – one humbling iteration at a time.
This morning’s run put me over 30 miles for the week for the first since September 2024. This isn’t a lot for some, but I’ve been having a hard time clawing back from a hip flexor injury the past few months. I’m feeling good about this progress and improved consistency.
It was a rainy morning for soccer, but Steel City FC played hard and tough to a 0-0 draw with Pittsburgh FC. Addie had a couple shots on goal but couldn’t get one to drop in.
Andy Cush in Hearing Things on quitting artist-abusing platforms like Spotify:
Music just sounds better when you’re not streaming it. Not only because the audio quality is often literally higher, but because you’re forging a connection with what you’re hearing that’s strengthened by your choices.
We’re headed into Marathon Weekend here in Pittsburgh. I’m not running this year, but I’m thinking about my experience running it in 2023 and how it is my most memorable running experience to date. Good luck to everyone lacing up and toeing the line on Sunday. The hay is in the barn…go get it!
Going on 6 hours without power. Lots of trees and lines down in the neighborhood.
We are making lemonade.
Once the storms passed, we grilled out and played cards. School is already delayed for the kids, but I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re still without power come sunrise.
UPDATE: 4/30/25 7:00 AM We are still without power. Schools are closed. I went for a run earlier and there are still many roads closed due to wires and trees down.
UPDATE: 5/1/25 10:00AM Power is back for us, although schools are still closed today and many of our neighbors are still without electricity.
In a conversation earlier today someone used the phrase “feed two birds with one scone” and I absolutely love that vibe so much more than the popular alternative.
Quick day trip with the family to State College yesterday. We stopped by the Blue and White game at Beaver Stadium after Adeline’s morning soccer game and spent some time cruising around campus so Elliott has a lay of the land when he lands there this fall. Also: ice cream from the creamery!!
Like most emerging tech throughout history, GenAI promises to save time & create efficiency. But at what cost?
The pitch is freedom through automation, but the grift is capitalism probing new corners of our lives, optimizing us for more output.
The hamster wheel’s new, but we’re still running.
I made the move from 28mm slicks to 30mm GravelKing tires on my Synapse. After the first few rides I really feel the drag when I’m on the road, but I also feel the increased grip when riding the trail. I might get another wheel set and keep 28’s on that one for quick change out based on the ride.
Over the past few years, I’ve developed an essential daily practice I call the Elemental Hour. The idea is simple – I commit at least one hour each day to being outdoors, regardless of weather or circumstance. No phone. No music or podcasts. No technology. Just me and whatever elements nature decides to serve up that day.
Sometimes I run. Sometimes I bike. Often, I simply walk. And some days I might just sit on the grass in my backyard, watching clouds drift or rain fall. The only condition that blocks me from the Elemental Hour is active lightning – a concession to safety that I’ve only had to invoke a handful of times.
This daily hour began as an experiment during a particularly screen-heavy period of work and has become an essential part of my wellbeing. It represents a small grounding, a deliberate step away from a technology-infused world. It creates a space where my attention isn’t fragmented by notifications, where success isn’t measured in metrics, and where presence isn’t mediated through a screen.
I can feel the benefits. Physically, my body moves in ways that feel natural and intuitive. Mentally, my thoughts have room to untangle themselves. And the practice has reconnected me with a direct, unfiltered experience of the world around me.
I think there’s something transformative about feeling rain on my face. About the absolute frozen bones after an hour sitting still in sub-zero windchill. About noticing the subtle transition of seasons. About navigating by landmarks and intuition.
When you’re standing in a downpour or navigating a snowy trail, the present moment demands your full attention. The future (how much longer will this last?) and the past (why didn’t I check the forecast?) become irrelevant. There is only now – this moment of being fully alive in the natural world.
The Dutch Headwind Cycling Championship looks absolutely awesome, in a type-II fun sort of way:
Because not only are humans literally pushing against the storm and saying, ‘We can beat you," they’re on a physical monument to doing just that.
Adding this to my bucket list.
Seminal post-punk band Swing Kids reunited for one show in their hometown of San Diego last month and there’s a fantastic documentary that captures the performance, rehearsals leading up to the show and candid interviews with the band. It’s a fun watch.
The cycle of life continues. Each spring, I enjoy watching the journey from empty nest to empty nest.
I’ve been listening to Rage Against the Machine today while I’ve been getting stuff done around the house. Because, you know, moods.
It’s amazing, in a very sad way, that every syllable Zach utters is as relevant today as it was decades ago. The catalog aged very well, unfortunately.
Elliott is nearing HS graduation and preparing to head off to college, so I feel like it’s important that he leave home with some cultural prerequisites. Lately we’ve been binging 1990s cinema together.
Last week we watched The Big Lebowski and The Usual Suspects, and last night it was Fight Club.
Spring has sprung here in Pittsburgh! With the kids home from school this week for spring break, I needed to get out of the house so I decided to bike commute to the store to work from there today. It was an absolutely glorious ride. Sunny, warm and with a slight breeze to keep it cool.
If that wasn’t enough to put me in a good mood, when I got to the store the team had an official REI name tag for me. It’s really cool to feel like part of the store team, even though I work in headquarters. One of REI’s core values is “We go further together,” and this is absolutely true in my line of work building software to make our stores easier to operate. I guess after nearly four years with the Co-Op, it’s officially official.
