As I turned into the wing of our building that held Ken’s office, I heard Sue Jordan’s familiar voice. I had run into Sue on my first day on the job. She was standing in the hallway, surrounded by a small group of people as she did an impersonation of her across-the-back-fence neighbor. The neighbor was cooking hamburgers on a grill, trying to divide her attention among the food, the local happenings, and as Sue put it, “the five kids, all under the age of four who were clinging to her legs or grabbing at her arms.” The burgers had drawn the short straw. Everyone watched the twinkle of amusement in Sue’s brown eyes as she got to the finale. “I told her. If she wanted to be a better cook, she needed to take up knitting at night.”
Half the assembled group groaned. The other half chuckled and shook their head. And more than one said, ‘that’s Sue for you’ as they wandered away. During my short time on the job, I had come to agree. Sue could always find the bawdier side of things and the respite was welcome.
Two days later, Sue and I were teamed on my first project, and I came to appreciate her professional capabilities as well. She was so obviously bright and capable that two months into that first job, I asked her why she didn’t get her doctorate and run her own projects. In true Sue-like fashion, she asked, “And why would I want a degree that stands for piled higher and deeper?” At that point in our association, she wasn’t sure how I might react, so she had quickly added, “Not that it applies to your education, of course.” Now with five months behind us, she wouldn’t bother and I wouldn’t expect her to qualify the comment.
Today, Sue was standing in the hall with her back to me, towering over a mere wisp of a woman who probably still qualified for children’s rides at amusement parks. As Sue was nearly six-feet tall, the physical difference between them was arresting.
“…and two full pounds of barbeque ribs,” Sue said as I came into earshot. Her friend – a woman I knew only in passing – was covering her mouth, her shoulders shaking with the laughter she was trying to hide.
“Telling Al stories again?” I asked, nodding at Sue’s friend.
Sue turned, pushing a strand of her brown hair from her forehead as she did. “You heard ribs and thought of Al? You know my husband all too well,” she replied, grinning.
“Well, we share that vice,” I said, returning her smile.
“I’m sure you eat two pounds of ribs in one sitting all the time,” she said smirking. I’d obviously missed some important parts of the story. “If you did, you’d look like the letter ‘b’ when you turned sideways.”
I chuckled, partly because of the image – I’m lanky – and partly to avoid blurting something like ‘at one sitting?’ Finally, I managed, “There’s a lot of bone in ribs.” Sue raised an eyebrow, so I moved on. “You’re coming to the meeting with Ken, aren’t you?”
“Yep. ‘Bout that time, isn’t it? I’ll grab my notebook and meet you there.” Sue turned and left with her friend in tow.
When I arrived at Ken’s office, he was seated behind his desk. As usual, he was dressed in a crisp, heavily starched, white shirt with an open collar, black pants, and neatly shined, black leather shoes. I wasn’t sure I had ever seen him wear anything else. I tapped on his open office door.
“Doc, come in. Have a seat,” he said, nodding at the two chairs across his desk.
“Thanks. I saw Sue in the hall. She’ll be here any minute.”
“Great.” Ken glanced at something on his computer screen, then turned to me and folded his hands on his desktop. “Good work on your first project – that skills management system,” he said. “The customer really liked your analysis and they’re planning for full production.” The kudos were welcome.
“It was a team effort,” I replied. Ken nodded but said nothing more, making me realize that this was probably what any technical lead would say assuming that his or her team hadn’t mutinied half way through the job. “No, really,” I said. “Sue Jordan suggested several of the tests we used, ran some of the analyses, and wrote up several sections of the final report.”
Ken nodded. “Yeah, I know she’s good…but it’s always nice to hear it from somebody else.”
Like most supervisors, Ken was responsible for performance reviews, assignments, recruiting and hiring, and allocations of the yearly raise pool for our department. It was deadly dull work in my view, and often, much ado about little. Last year, the raise pool had been under three percent, but the allocation meetings among the managers had lasted for weeks. I estimated that they were making decisions at a rate of about four cents an hour. So, the fact that Ken was not only good at these tasks, but also enjoyed them, came as a relief. He wouldn’t be trying to delegate them, as so many supervisors did.
On the other hand, Ken’s skills didn’t extend to learning and training technology or research. I’m not sure he knew or understood much of what I did, making the division of labor between us clean and unambiguous. I trusted him to look out for my interests on the personnel side of the business, while he trusted me to do a professional, technical job for our clients.
“Hi, Ken. Am I late?” asked Sue, as she came through the door and took the chair next to me.
“Nope. Right on time,” said Ken. “I’ll get to it, since the group managers are meeting at 10:00 to review raise policies for next year.” I could have quipped, ‘what, you have a whole four percent to hand out?’ But in fact, I felt lucky to get paid for doing something I enjoyed.
“This next assignment is six months,” Ken continued, “during which you’ll be evaluating a device designed and developed by Dr. Worthington at WHT technologies. You know the company?”
I glanced at Sue, who shook her head, then turned back to Ken. “I’ve heard of them,” I said. “They’re based here, in St. Louis. Aren’t they a spin-off from the Washington University School of Medicine, with some staff from the aerospace company, Boeing? But I don’t really remember what the acronym, WHT, stands for.”
“That’s not surprising,” said Ken. “W and H are the founders, who are Worthington, your point of contact for this job, and Huston. Both are PhDs and MDs. And you’re right, they were at Wash U earlier in their careers. The T stands for Technology. Not exactly a catchy name, but descriptive I suppose. As far as the Boeing connection goes, they hired a couple of people from them with government contracting experience, because we all know how tricky government contracting can be.”
Actually, I didn’t know, but it was something the managers always said.
“Dr. Worthington…. Let’s see, first name is Ned,” Ken said, checking some notes on his desk. “He’s developed a technology that increases memory span.”
Seriously?
I am sure that all new college graduates hope their first jobs will be world-changing. My first assignment, the skills management system, was anything but. It provided notifications when an employee needed to take a class to refresh a skill. True, it was based on the latest, scientific model of human forgetting, but the study I ran indicated it improved work performance by about two percent. Although that improvement would return the customer’s investment over the long-run – or maybe the long, long, long-run – it was not exactly what I had hoped for in a field with such vast, untapped potential.
Unfortunately, memory span improvement, the focus of this next assignment, held no more promise. Memory span is simply the number of unrelated items someone can hold in their thoughts at one time. And, as every psychology student knows, George Miller published a landmark paper in the mid-1950s on it, establishing memory span as seven, plus or minus two. I even had an undergraduate psychology professor tell us that phone numbers were seven digits long because of memory span limitations. I wasn’t sure that was true, since the demand for lines would seem to play an important role in their length, but the professor’s claim had the desired effect – I never forgot the length of memory span. Seven, plus or minus two.
Most of what Ken had to say about the project was textbook – don’t vary from the statement of work �
� we don’t get paid for extras. Keep to the schedule. Stay within the budget or, if possible, below. But in the course of his talk, I heard, “The complete team will be three. We’ll be subcontracting the third person from Biomedical Engineering Associates to study the electronic design and the physiological effects of the equipment.” That was Nicole Veles’ company. My interest was piqued, even though it could be any one of their 15 to 20 employees.
“OK, that’s about it,” Ken said after about a half-hour. “All the materials for this new job are on the server under the company name. I thought Doc could finish the final edits on the skills management project, while Sue prepped for the kickoff on this one. Make sense?”
“Works for me,” I said.
“Me too,” said Sue. “I’ll probably have everything ready to go by tomorrow afternoon.”
With that, Ken hurried off to his raise meeting, and Sue and I left. As I walked back to my office, I was thinking that the project had possibilities, especially if Nicole was involved. But world-changing?
Not a chance.
Thursday, August 6, 9:22 AM
By the time I finish a run, breakfast, and a commute, my workday usually starts between 8:00 and 9:30. That I had arrived at 7:00 this morning says something about my state of mind. I was more than ready for the next chapter of my professional life.
In the three days since Ken had met with us, I had busied myself with tying up loose ends on the last project as he directed and checking with Sue to see how planning and preparations were coming on this one. The fact that her estimated start went from Tuesday afternoon to Thursday morning within hours of our meeting with Ken caught my attention. She explained that the project wasn’t what she had expected and gave me a short paper by Worthington to read. It was my ‘homework,’ as she called it.
I read it Tuesday night after work. It didn’t take long, because to describe it as ‘succinct’ would be like describing a nanosecond as ‘brief.’ The section on his procedure was almost nonexistent, and where the technology should have been described, it merely said he had used a ‘company proprietary device’ called a Neural Activity Blocker…whatever that was. Only the analysis had much detail but it was underwhelming. Over the course of the study, memory span had increased to about 21 items, or three times the average. But equivalent or better results had been achieved by any number of common, memory techniques.
But for me, the red flags went up when I read his conclusions. He claimed his technology had “…expanded the amount of working memory available for the task.” Working memory is roughly the same as consciousness; that is, it is what a person is thinking about at any given moment. Although there are different ways to measure it, all the research indicates it’s limited and fixed. Simply put, you can only hold so much in your head at one time.
That finding is confirmed for me every day when I try to remember something like a phone number and someone asks, ‘what was that book I saw you reading?’ Or I catch a few notes of a favorite song and start thinking about the lyrics. Or about anything else. As soon as I stop thinking about the phone number, it’s gone. For Worthington to claim I could recall the name of a book and still find that number in the back of my mind somewhere – well, it seemed a ridiculous statement. I suspected he had chosen his words poorly and nothing more.
I returned to Sue’s office on Wednesday and expressed my doubts about Worthington’s text. She agreed and offered me some more homework, but I declined, knowing that she’d have his findings fully summarized by meeting time. After a few moments of small talk, she peered over her reading glasses, her brown eyes narrowing on my face. Then, she handed me a couple of pages, saying, “You have your team now.” It was Nicole Veles’ resume. I thanked her and left.
So, while ‘the next chapter of my professional life’ was what I told myself – or anyone who might ask – I knew that wasn’t the only reason for my early arrival. I was also looking forward to seeing Nicole again.
Nicole is a female engineer, which of itself, is rare. But with a Master’s degree in Biomedical Engineering, she is a member of a very select group. That fact alone would have made her an interesting dinner partner or a fascinating individual to join for drinks, but additionally, I found her extremely attractive.
Of course, attraction is personal. For me, the driving factor is ‘cuteness,’ and Nicole fits my definition perfectly. She’s about 5-foot, 6-inches tall, with a trim, athletic build, fair skin, and shoulder-length, light brown hair. But what sets her apart is her large, hazel eyes – eyes that sometimes seem brown, other times green in the way hazel eyes can do. They give her a youthful look of innocence that I find mesmerizing.
Nicole’s look of naivete, however, is in sharp contrast to the technical expertise she holds. She has written papers with titles I can hardly pronounce, much less understand. To me, she is an enigma that defies any quick and easy characterization, but one that I have interest in understanding better.
As I approached the conference room for our kickoff meeting, I knew the women were already there. The sound of conversation, an occasional laugh drifted to my ears.
“Hey, Doc. Where have you been the last day and a half?” Sue asked, the familiar, amused twinkle showing in her eyes. “You were visiting me about five times a day, and then, you disappeared?”
“Just busy closing out the last project,” I said, now wondering if Sue had given me the resume so she could get some work done. Her eyebrows went up in a look of skepticism, which answered that question.
My eyes swept around the table to Nicole. She stood. Perhaps the women had coordinated on attire...or maybe dressing similarly was uncoordinated? I wasn’t certain, but in any case, both sported brown loafers and khaki pants, with only the style and shade of blue in their shirts varying. I had wondered earlier if my memory had become exaggerated over time, but Nicole was even more alluring than I remembered. The soft, smooth curves of her body made business casual look sensual.
I walked over and she looked up at me. The perspective made her eyes seem even larger than usual. I could easily get lost in them. I swallowed, unsure I’d find my voice. But I did. “Nicole, it’s good to see you again. Welcome to the team.”
I took her hand. It was warm, her handshake firm. At the touch, my heart rate went up a notch, my breath catching in my throat. But if I had the same effect on her, it didn’t show. As she pushed a strand of wayward hair off her forehead, my eyes were drawn to the back of her hand. When she had been here before, there had been no ring on her finger. That hadn’t changed, and I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“Hi, Sam. It’s good to be here,” she said, smiling warmly, her hazel eyes meeting mine in a steady gaze. For reasons I didn’t understand, Nicole had used my given name during our first project, and it appeared she would be doing the same again. At least I had convinced her to stop calling me “Dr. Price.”
“I see you’re all set with a temporary badge. That’ll get you into all the open areas. If we need to go into any secure spaces, Sue or I will need to accompany you. But you’ve been here before. You know the drill. Any questions, concerns?”
“No, other than the somewhat cryptic paper that Sue sent to me. But I guess that’s why we’re here – to figure out what we need to do.”
I nodded. “It is. Sue, I think that’s your cue.”
Sue was sitting at one end of the conference table. A projection screen was on the wall directly in front of her, with the computer that drove it at her elbow. Nicole was on one side of the table, so I moved to the other and took a seat.
“This project’s a little different from anything I’ve seen before,” Sue said, rubbing her chin. “So, I’m going to start with the simple stuff. What the customer – that’s the Veteran’s Administration – what they want us to do.” She pressed enter on the keyboard in front of her and the first chart with the date and job title, the Memory Span Enhancement Project, appeared on the screen.
“About 19 months ago, Dr. Worthingt
on at Worthington-Huston Technology proposed a study to the VA. There was apparently some give and take, and about a year ago, the VA funded at least part of the work. I don’t know the details of what was dropped and what was kept, but one thing Worthington completed was the memory span research you’ve read about.
“Then, about a month ago, he went back to the VA, asking for more money. Before agreeing, however, they wanted an independent assessment of the work he’s completed so far. That, of course, is where we come in. In general terms, Doc and I will be examining the study he ran, making sure his claims make sense.”
I wasn’t sure how they could, but there would be time for that discussion later.
“Nicole, from you they want a general evaluation of whatever his proprietary device is. What it does and how it works.” Nicole nodded.
As Sue continued, it was clear she was covering much of the official language from our contract – the standard spiel. Check the methods used. Verify the analysis. Determine if the conclusions follow. Examine the device’s primary inputs and outputs, and so on. If there was anything unusual in this part of Sue’s talk, it was that the contract didn’t give many specifics. But even that wasn’t too surprising.
After twenty minutes, during which neither Nicole nor I had said a word, Sue moved to a chart with the title, ‘Background.’ She paused, looking at it a moment, then at each of us. “I know. Talking about the contract before the background is a bit…unusual. But I thought this should come at the end, because we’re going to need some time.
“There were two documents on background. One was the paper that I gave to both of you. Doc, research and statistics are your thing. What did you make of it?”
I scratched my chin, more to give myself a moment to compose my thoughts than because it itched. “Using a device Worthington only describes as proprietary, an individual tripled his digit memory span after…I believe it was 153 hours of training?” Sue nodded after glancing at her notes. “Then he makes what seems an exaggerated, if not completely inaccurate claim that he has increased the portion of the brain working on this task.”
Of Half a Mind Page 2
