I'm currently writing you from the new software engineering lab/bullpen wearing sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and covered with a blanket. Next to me is a Tupperware container of strawberries and milk, warmed by a Georgia summer during the walk from apartment, slowly descending to room temperature. If I left it overnight, I'm almost certain it will still be fresh in the morning. I will probably eat them before they freeze the way my tea did.
You may think I'm being a wimp and I'm just complaining to hear myself write (as my fingers slowly go numb). We've all been in labs that were a little chilly or a little too warm. This lab is cold. It's not just chilly like "Gee, I better put on a sweater". It's cold like "This is as cold as the Russian winter that wiped out Napoleon's army. Build a fire before we all die!"
. . .
O.k. it's not that cold but it's pretty damn cold for a lab. I'd invite you to visit, but I caution you to bring a jacket and some ear muffs if you plan to stay for longer than a couple minutes. Even the roaches avoid this room in spite of the open box of cookies on the table to my right - that should tell you something.
It's actually a very simple engineering problem. The room I'm in is being cooled by three different ventilation systems - building air that is set for "comfortable", a new air conditioning unit with a state-of-the-art, computer controlled thermostat that the room occupants have no personal control over, and a broken vent that is dumping return air into this lab. The first is understandable - it's part of the old infrastructure. The third is also understandable - mistakes happen - even to the lowest bidder. But the second is interesting. The way I understand thermostats is that you set a temperature on them. It continues to control the AC or heater until that temperature is reached. Then it shuts that unit off until the temperature leaves that temperature zone. The air conditioning unit is still blowing so it must be set to "popsicle" - on purpose. Here's my thinking about this new bit of technology in my life.
-- It's clearly expensive. It has a smooth exterior with its modern
design and advanced looking apertures for linking to the palmtop unit.
It even matches the newly painted walls. A lot of thought has gone
into the appearance of this device. It screams importance.
-- I can't get any information from it at all. It's opaque.
Does it register temperature? Is it on? Who knows? But
I wouldn't expect someone to spend a lot of money on something that doesn't
work so therefore, I assume it does. And I assume that the same person
doesn't think that I should be bothered with such trivialities as what
the unit is doing. I'm very grateful that they're helping me out
by removing a little bit of useless information from my life. I need
all the brain I have to get my proposal together.
-- I can't change any of the settings on it without going through some
chain of command. Of course, given the above point, putting controls
on this device would be a bad idea. I may accidentally fry the room
or, possibly but unlikely, set the room to a comfortable setting.
I don't think the exclusion of accessible controls was maliciously done.
After all, the Institute only wants the best for its students and goes
out of its way on a daily basis to ensure that we build character and spiritual
fortitude.
-- Therefore, I can only assume that there was a design rationale behind
this thermostat and some thought behind turning this room into an icebox.
Here's how I think I'm meant to benefit from the room being as cold as Minnesota in January.
1) My computer runs better. I can't prove it because I'm not a hardware person and I sucked at physics but I imagine that it would, especially if it had superconducting components in it.
2) We don't need to get a fridge for our lab. We were thinking about buying a small refrigerator for lunches and drinks but that would be redundant. In fact, I'm almost certain that I could prepare sushi in the lab without any health risks. However, I'm sure that this is an incidental benefit and not planned by Georgia Tech.
3) Having the room at a dangerously cold temperature forces me to stay alert. I'm very aware of my surroundings and what I'm doing. If I lose my concentration, I may lose consciousness and die of hypothermia. This increase in concentration makes it easier for me to read journal articles and to focus on my coding. So there's a training benefit.
4) The cold is like having a perpetual icepack on your head. I don't need to take aspirin, ibuprofen, or cold medicine after that long haul of reading and studying. I can't even feel my head so it must not be hurting. I'm sure this would work equally well on any joints that I may injure doing exercise. This is a positive medical benefit.
5) We have it easy as graduate students these days. Not like the old days where you had to beg on street corners for funding and where your advisors had you doing their research, their teaching, their committees, their housework, and, eventually, your own work. None of this 15-17 hours a week for your assistantships, old graduate student loads make the sweatshops of the 1900's look like a cruise ship. Well, due to government regulation and some drastic graduate student reactions (remember the guy that took a gun to his committee at SDSU?), things are much nicer now. But the administration at Georgia Tech probably feels remiss that they're releasing these poor lambs into the world with a mere piece of paper. No, we need to have the same character and stamina that the old guard did. So the labs are uncomfortable to teach us how to deal with suffering. In fact, the entire university infrastructure is designed so that we can learn how to overcome petty adversity, random harmfulness, and a poor bureaucratic infrastructure. It is a training ground for the Real World. We should be thankful that we're being prepared under safe, controlled surroundings. I feel character building on me even as I write - probably under that icicle hanging off of my glasses.
Clearly, if we give a little thought to what we view as substandard quality of service and design that we'll find a doctrine meant to make us better human beings as well as educated scientists, designers, and technical professionals. I know that twenty years from now as I'm saving the world from the Microsoft 2000 virus (the MS2K virus) that I will be a better person for having suffered in an icebox while writing my thesis.
