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the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

Toronto, 2003.06.09

I've been doing some really fascinating stuff at work, of late. Not strictly DBA work mind you, but lots of fun.

Today I was attempting to take all of our overwrought figures on how much time it would take to handle a given number of databases, and to turn that into a number of DBA's we'd have to have on hand, and a number of supervisors to, er, supervise. I came up with an answer, in the end. I mean, I guess that's a given, but it was answer that didn't seem out of line. The boss didn't seem to stunnoched with the figures, either. And they were certainly financially sound figures - a strange sensation for someone who's spent some years working with floundering startups with no business thinking in 'em.

rand()m quote

It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by the dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions and spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly; so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat.

—Theodore Roosevelt, Jr.