Blue Flavor

Tunnels by Jeff Croft

Edge Cases are the Root of all Evil

February 11th, 2008 at 8 a.m.

In the restroom in of the La Patisserie in Portland, Oregon’s Pearl District, someone scrawled Bark Dust is the Root of All Evil. While that may certainly be true, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that Edge Cases are the real Root of All Evil.

Ever trustworthy Wikipedia defines Edge Cases as thus:

An edge case is a problem or situation that occurs only at an extreme (maximum or minimum) operating parameter.

But I think I’ll stick with “Root of All Evil.”

Why do Edge Cases get that special place of honor above the love of money, boredom or that special feeling after having a der Wienerschnitzel Chili Dog (you know what I’m talking about)?

Because Edge Cases kill inspiration. They extinguish the bubbling of creative juices with some minutia that will probably never matter anyway.

Let’s say I have an idea. It might not be the best idea, but it’s one I want to vet with my peers, get some feedback on, and see if it is worthy of pursuit. I want to throw it up on the wall and see if something sticks (After all I am from the later end of Generation X, which means I have the Generation Y tendency to Group Think, an increasingly common collaboration mode in the modern workplace).

What happens next has probably occurred to me hundreds of times, and it frustrates and confuses me every time: Someone presents an Edge Case. Some sort of asinine comment or remark is made that seems to focus on such incredible minutia, which only occurs under the most extreme circumstances and to the fewest amount of people, that I am amazed anyone would have the fortitude to even suggest it. After I regain my bearings from being completely dazed and confused by the remark, I suddenly become deflated. I lose my inspiration. I feel I have been made into The Jerk for even suggesting it.

I’ve learned over the years that Edge Cases are not meant to be normal rationale or a casual reminder of some odd circumstance that you’ve neglected. Rather, they usually represent an attempt by someone else to gain, show or exert power in a situation. I’ll explain.

Most Edge Cases are presented in the conference room. You get a cross-functional team together to come up with some solutions to The Problem (insert meeting title here). You have people from all the departments that The Problem touches (plus a few more hangers-on who weren’t invited to the party, but personally felt that The Problem could not be solved without them). You brainstorm ideas, go on tangents and then finally inspiration strikes you.

You have come up with a novel way to solve The Problem! Like an idiot, you blurt out in excitement, “I know what we need to do!” Then you go on to explain your thoughts as quickly as they come to you.

After briefly feigning interest in your idea, that person (the one who wasn’t invited) throws out some BS about your idea not addressing one customer in Cleveland, or about how they tried that solution 1,000 years ago and it didn’t work.

You might try to provide some supporting arguments for your idea, but the battle has already been won and lost. And guess what? You are the loser.

Once the Edge Case was presented a weakness was pointed out in your idea. The others in the room feel that they have permission to start mauling on your idea like a Hyena in the Serengeti. Now everyone points out his own Edge Case, and starts fighting for his respective territory. After a good 15–20 minutes of feeling like a jackass for even suggesting it, you begin sulking in the corner and shut up, never to be heard from again (at least for the duration of this meeting).

What happened? You pissed in someone else’s territory. What’s worse is you did it in plain sight, allowing outsiders to witness the event. You highlighted the weakness of another by coming up with the idea first. In the corporate world that kind of behavior does not come without retribution. And the most common passive aggressive retribution is the presentation of an Edge Case.

I think this problem is aptly summarized by a quote from a movie:

In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so.

Now you may be surprised by the source (last year’s Pixar film Ratatouille), but the line perfectly summarizes the intent and inherit disdain that the Edge Case promotes:

That is, it is easy to critique and hard to create. When we can’t create, we critique.

Now it many seem a little odd to be quoting a kids’ movie in a business-related article, but why not? In business, we often forget the lessons we teach our children. Things like being tolerant of the unknown or the new, to embrace unconventional thinking, to be creative. I think it’s good to remind ourselves what we try so desperately to teach.

New ideas can be like children—fragile, needing guidance and direction, but full of unbridled optimism and offering an incredibly unique perspective on problems. In the workplace it is our job to be the parents to these ideas, and to foster thinking toward the creation of the new.

Another line from the movie continues along this train of thought:

But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations. The new needs friends.

I’m often reminded of something Howard Behar once said:

If you stick your head out, you can’t be afraid to have it cut off.

Each of us has the responsibility to stick our heads out proudly. To put forth and encourage new ideas. And lastly, never forget:
For bajebus sake, keep that edge case to yourself!

Brian Fling

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