D is for Discerning

My husband and I work for the same company, although our paths rarely cross professionally.

This is partly intentional, because who wants to be told how to do their job over dinner, and partly a matter of circumstance. Ralf heads up product management for our technology group, while I am responsible for a small corner of the world on the business applications side. Basically, I design compensation software and Ralf decides what development Tools will be available to the developers who build our software.

I know you were wondering.

Although one might assume that control over someone's domestic comfort confers a lot of power, for the most part I do my job without asking Ralf for favors. If presented with a technical limitation I brainstorm with a team of application developers to figure out a workaround.

Which means I don't usually have a chance to see my hubby in action. And he for the most part has little idea what I'm working on, at least not beyond what he occassionally overhears: '... that doesn't look right... oh, wait that could work... crap, no it won't... damn budget... why doesn't that add up right... Where the hell did he come from, he's not even assigned to this plan... Oh, for Chrissake, people, just use Excel... where's the chocolate?... wait. . .wait. . . I THINK I HAVE IT!!! YES!!! THIS COULD TOTALLY WORK!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW MUCH I RULE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh, wait, no, that won't work, either. . . '

I like to share the love while I work.

But this morning I presented him with a business requirement that can't be met with our current development tools. It was a fairly complex requirement, since designing compensation solutions that will work for a broad spectrum of companies of varying size and diverse requirements without creating such a complex beast that no one can use it is not particularly easy. And my explanation wasn't all that great. But he totally got it and after hearing me out for less than a minute grabbed my pen and mapped out exactly what I was trying to say.

Some of you may recall that this is a man who can't run a load of laundry without turning my underwear pink, and thinks if you boil a raw chicken for your sick wife it will somehow turn into an edible and nourishing soup, but he can size up a poorly explained problem in under a minute and summarize the salient points.

So this post is dedicated to my discerning husband.