Do you think Eric Swanson is happy? Compare your personal philosophical conception of happiness to the lifestyle of Eric Swanson by critically evaluating some of the philosophical conceptions of the good life discussed in class and the text book. (See article below; paper guidelines provided in class.)
Extreme Measures: In the Race to Build A Fiber-Optic Switch, The Winners
Take All
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But `Project Orange' Yields Some Bitter Fruit, Too; Mr. Swanson's Sacrifices
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`Computers Are Your God' By Jon G. Auerbach
07/19/2000
The Wall Street Journal
(Copyright (c) 2000, Dow Jones & Company, Inc.)
CHELMSFORD, Mass. -- Eric Swanson stands nervously in the
customs line at Boston's Logan Airport, holding a brown paper bag.
Inside are 10 tiny, powerful German lasers.
For safety reasons, importing the devices requires special approval from
the Food and Drug Administration. But Mr. Swanson's company,
Sycamore Networks Inc., doesn't have that approval. Nor, as far as Mr.
Swanson is concerned, does the company have time to get it: The lasers
are critical in the creation of Sycamore's fiber-optic switch, an oversize
computer that routes beams of light across broadband networks.
Mr. Swanson's heart is racing as an officer asks what he has in the bag.
"Just lasers," Mr. Swanson stammers before being waved through.
Importing unauthorized goods is just one extreme to which Mr. Swanson
has found himself willing to go in the race to design a workable switch
for
the company that he helped found. Although Sycamore began building its
product after almost all of its competitors -- titans including Cisco
Systems Inc. and Lucent Technologies Inc. -- its risk-taking has helped
Sycamore beat most of those rivals to market. Two weeks ago,
360networks Inc., a Canadian company aiming to build a global
fiber-optic network, placed an order for as much as $420 million of
Sycamore gear, including the new switch. While Sycamore didn't give a
duration for the contract, it is one of the largest to date involving optical
switches.
Producing the device in only 14 frenetic months, though, has taken a huge
toll, both professional and personal, on Mr. Swanson and his colleagues
in "Project Orange." After more than a year of long days and weekends
spent under the fluorescent lights of Sycamore's labs, the 20-odd men
and women of the Orange project have grown grayer, balder and
heavier. Exercise and hobbies, for many, are a thing of the past. Family
lives are strained, as spouses and children fail to comprehend why
building a better box requires missing so many school assemblies, teacher
conferences and weekends at home.
Broadband, wireless, fiber optics -- the territory is all about colossal
promise and make-or-break glitches. Annual spending on fiber-optic
networking gear will reach between $7 billion and $10 billion by 2004,
up from about $400 million this year, according to industry estimates.
Telephone carriers including AT&T Corp., Williams Communications
Group Inc. and Sprint Corp. have already spent $200 billion building a
transcontinental network to carry oceans of data at blazing speed.
In theory, this network makes possible an Internet without delays and
universal phone service on the Web. But there's one problem: The
connections stink. The vaunted fiber-optic network is like a railroad with
no centralized method for switching trains. Traffic moves well below
capacity, with carriers forced to dispatch crews to points along the line
to
reprogram routes, much like conductors throwing train switches after
making sure the coast is clear. Since data are pulsed along as light, not
electricity, fiber requires a whole new kind of switching technology,
presenting one of the greatest business opportunities of the New
Economy.
Double-Time
Specifications call for Sycamore's switch -- the SN 16000 -- to
simultaneously process the equivalent of more than two million phone
calls, more than twice the capabilities of most existing devices. But its
breakthrough feat would be its ability to monitor the lines, automatically
rerouting data along the shortest available path.
When Sycamore began building the SN 16000 in April 1999, the
company was just a year old. Rivals including Cisco and Ciena Corp.
were months into developing their own switches. Though its competitors
have more resources, Sycamore has a technology pedigree from the
Massachusetts Institute of Technology's prestigious Lincoln Labs and has
recruited dozens of engineers from Cascade Communications, a premier
equipment maker in the mid-1990s. Sycamore's chairman and its chief
executive both came from Cascade.
That family tree has helped make Sycamore one of the hottest companies
in the fiber-optic world. As Internet use explodes, stretching existing
networks, investor eyes are focused on any company in fiber optics.
Partly because of the track record of Sycamore's management team, the
company's stock market value is roughly $35 billion.
Sycamore has had a rocket-ship ride as a new stock since going public
last year. That has made a wealthy man of the 39-year-old Mr. Swanson,
a former MIT scientist. His 2.5 million Sycamore options are worth about
$350 million. But there has been a personal cost. Mr. Swanson has been
working 15-hour days for months as lead optical engineer on Project
Orange. For days at a time, he gets almost no sleep. His life is full of
tension, pushing his team to the point of exhaustion, and straining his
family life. His eyes sport heavy bags. His skin is the color of
marshmallow.
Stripped Away
Each morning, Mr. Swanson awakens at 6:45. While he showers, his
wife Lynne lays out his clothes and then prepares a glass of juice and
a
slice of toast, which he grabs on his way out the door. She prepares a
lunch box and makes sure there is gas in his car.
With no time on his hands for current events or outside reading, let alone
the basketball or scuba diving that he once loved, Mr. Swanson has
gradually stripped everything but work from his life.
Ms. Swanson reads weekly magazines for her husband, condenses
important news into two-minute synopses, and reads them to him when
he arrives home each evening, usually after 10 p.m. She handles all the
couple's finances, the children's lives, and repairs at their home outside
Boston.
Mr. Swanson's withering pace is no isolated event. At a companywide
engineering meeting, Sycamore managers put together a tongue-in-cheek
slide show listing the top 10 signs of a Sycamore employee. They
included "Their spouse has their picture put on a milk carton" and "Their
kids call them `Uncle Daddy.' "
When the slides were shown, the laughter from some of the engineers
rang hollow.
Part of the strength of the Sycamore switch lies in its state-of-the-art
components. The company has worked closely with suppliers: Sycamore
benefits by getting early access to products; the suppliers get Sycamore's
expertise in designing them. But the approach means more work for Mr.
Swanson and managers who work with the suppliers. Promises aren't
always kept, and complications are common.
Sycamore approached Infineon AG, a German laser firm, early on with
the idea of doubling the speed of its current lasers from 1.25 billion
bits
per second to 2.5 billion bits. The devices, called vertical cavity
surface-emitting lasers, referred to as "vixels," are used to convert
electrical signals back into light inside the switch. They were critical
to
making Sycamore's switch smaller (by doubling the speed of the lasers,
Sycamore needed only half the number), and more efficient.
Throughout last summer, Infineon's sales representative promised
Sycamore that the faster lasers would be finished on time, by early fall.
Then Mr. Swanson received an ominous e-mail from the representative,
hinting that Infineon might not even be able to build the faster laser,
citing
vague "technical risks."
Mr. Swanson and his colleagues wrote up a list of more than 50 hurdles
that Infineon would have to clear if it wanted to keep the business. Those
items included daily conference calls and regular progress reports. In
effect, Sycamore was taking control of the project. The program
culminated in Mr. Swanson's trip to Berlin to pick up the faster lasers.
By
bringing them back to the U.S., team Orange was able to use the first
batch of lasers in a prototype. Mr. Swanson's move kept the switch
project on schedule.
As pressures have increased at Sycamore, Mr. Swanson has managed to
contain his tension. He never raises his voice and often plays the role
of
mediator within the company. Many of Sycamore's engineers look up to
him as a role model. At home, however, Mr. Swanson has become more
demanding and irritable. He often loses his temper with Ms. Swanson
because he considers their house too cluttered. He complains that their
closets are too full of clothes. He grew irate on discovering three rakes
in
the garage, which he considered excessive. One night, he returned home
late from work and was upset because the family pool sticks were not
properly lined up from shortest to longest.
Last fall, Mr. Swanson was so busy at work he neglected to buy an
anniversary present. His wife reminded him.
"What do you want, a few million dollars?" he asked.
"How about just a card?" she replied.
Mr. Swanson says he was only joking, but admits he has been consumed
with his work. He acknowledges being overbearing about cleanliness and
clutter. "She's right, I'm wrong," he says.
In an episode he now regrets, he arrived home one night during a
rainstorm in March to discover the gutters had not been cleaned -- and
promptly ordered Ms. Swanson outside at 11 p.m. to climb a ladder and
unclog them.
Ms. Swanson says she hopes her husband's unreasonable behavior will
end when Project Orange is over. "He wants to control everything," she
says. "And it's gotten much worse since he's been at Sycamore."
Heating Up
March 2000: Aldo D'Amico and his Project Orange hardware engineers
are looking grim. In testing, Charles Landino, who specializes in power
supplies, discovers that the SN 16000's primary and backup fans are
both on the fritz. The switch is heating up to more than 212 degrees --
more than 70 degrees above optimal levels.
The switch may fail, but at least "you can cook a pizza on top of the box,"
quips Jay Frances, one Orange member. Mr. D'Amico isn't laughing. He
reminds the crew that AT&T is scheduled to visit Sycamore the next
week.
Mr. Landino discovers that the built-in fuses that regulate the fans aren't
large enough. The fix isn't difficult, but test switches with weak fuses
have
already been shipped to Williams Communications in Tulsa, Okla., and
Iaxis BV, a London-based fiber-optic provider. Sycamore's rival, Ciena,
already has its switch with Iaxis labs, and Sycamore needs to get its foot
in the door. The team decides to immediately ship new fan devices to the
customers. Luckily, the problems go undetected.
By late March, the Orange team is preparing for an April visit by AT&T,
which has finally yielded to entreaties by Daniel Smith, the Sycamore
CEO, to have a look at the switch. Rumors have been flying around
Sycamore that Tellium, a closely held start-up, already has its switch
in
AT&T's New Jersey labs. Cisco Systems is also said to have a head
start.
Sycamore sales representatives have assured AT&T that the SN 16000
will be able to automatically detect problems, such as breaks in the fiber
lines, and be able to re-route traffic to alternative lines in about half
a
second. The re-route time is crucial to AT&T because line breaks are
routine on a massive network -- caused by such things as sloppy digging
on a sewer line, say -- and every moment lost before rerouting means a
snippet of voice or other data transmission is lost. Beyond a certain length
of interruption, customers begin to complain. AT&T has been clear that
it
wants the re-route time no slower than the half-second Sycamore has
promised.
But when a group of AT&T engineers were in Chelmsford for a
preliminary evaluation, Sycamore engineers disclosed that they had not
been able to get the re-route speed of the SN 16000 below a second.
Over dinner one night, Mr. Swanson asked one of the AT&T engineers
what the most important quality the phone giant looks for a supplier.
"One we can trust," he says the engineer responded. Mr. Swanson took
the comment as a warning.
The Bake-Off Approaches
In a bid to shorten the re-route time before the full-scale April visit
--
which everyone at Sycamore starts calling the "bake-off" -- Mr. Swanson
instructs the Orange team to write a new set of complex software that
would trigger alarms each time a communications problem is detected.
This is far more complicated than the original software design, which
involved using a sort of beacon that sent out a signal every second to
determine if there were any fiber problems.
The task is the responsibility of Arvind Puntambekar and his team of
software engineers. But Mr. Swanson is worried about Mr.
Puntambekar, a wiry man with a head of wild hair, who also seems to be
suffering from stress. The engineer is rarely home with his wife and two
daughters. Mr. Swanson fears Mr. Puntambekar is beginning to buckle
under work and family pressure.
As the redesign begins, Mr. Puntambekar's 14-year-old daughter Nisha,
sends him an e-mail:
"For the past few days, I've been making observations, and reaching
conclusions about Sycamore Networks' engineers/employees. You
people have no contact, whatsoever with the real world! WHAT'S YOU
PEOPLE'S PROBLEM?? . . . You're all living like MONKS in that
building. You shut yourselves in your little cubicles, and for 12-16 hours
all you do is sit and stare at computer screens. WHATSAMATTA?!
You're exactly like monks, except you dedicate your lives to working and
computers instead of God. Actually computers are your god. They
provide you with comfort, fairness, entertainment, etc. Y'all need serious
help, and FAST!! Since I'm a well-educated teen, I'm going to tell you
how to save your pitiful lives. . . . Step away from the computers."
Closing by saying "that's all the time I have," Nisha questions whether
her
father and his colleagues are "brave enough" to accept her prescription.
She signs, "Nisha (the older daughter of Arvind with the long last name)."
Mr. Puntambekar laughed off the note, describing his daughter as "a
piece of work." But Mr. Swanson believes Mr. Puntambekar forwarded
the message to him and another supervisor to show them how stressful his
life had become.
Then Mr. Puntambekar's mother died in London. He attended the
funeral, but only for a brief visit. A few weeks later, Mr. Puntambekar
flew to London to visit a customer without Mr. Swanson's permission --
a trip, Mr. Swanson guesses, that had more to do with family than
business. The AT&T visit is three weeks away. Mr. Swanson is in agony.
He wakes his wife several times in the middle of the night to discuss
whether to crack down on Mr. Puntambekar for insubordination.
In the end, he decides to say nothing. When Mr. Puntambekar returns
from London, he has regained his energy.
Sycamore still isn't ready, and postpones the visit. Major bugs plague
the
software, and there aren't enough demonstrator switches to
simultaneously write new code and fix the bugs. Messrs. Swanson and
Puntambekar decide to split the team into two shifts. Mr. Puntambekar
and several other software engineers begin leaving the office each evening
at about 5:30, then returning around 9 p.m. to work until 2 a.m. Evening
hours are spent fixing bugs that have cropped up during the day.
As the bake-off approaches, Mr. Swanson often works straight through
the night. During one three-day stretch, he spends a total of four hours
at
home. He refuses to touch caffeine, thinking he might get addicted. The
bags under his eyes grow bigger.
`Are We Gonzo?'
On the morning of April 24, Mr. Swanson sits in a specially designed
control room at Sycamore headquarters here, anxiously fiddling with
computer monitors. Whirring in a room next to him, behind a large glass
window, are the four switches, the result of more than a year of
round-the-clock effort. Mr. Swanson taps his leg nervously, then turns
to
Leif Uptegrove, head of Sycamore's quality testing. There are minutes to
go before the bake-off begins.
"Are we gonzo?"
"We're gonzo," Mr. Uptegrove says, signaling they are ready to go.
At the start of the demonstration, the AT&T team seems relaxed, almost
jovial. In addition to the switch, Sycamore is showing off its network
"emulator" -- software that permits a computerized representation of a
map of the U.S. fiber network with as many as 100 switches placed in
key cities. Using the program, Sycamore tells AT&T, it can create new
fiber-optic circuits by dragging a computer mouse across the screen, as
opposed to the tedious process of reprogramming switches all along the
circuit, as is standard practice.
The emulator is a massive hit. Current fiber-optics are "dumb" devices
incapable of generating easy-to-use maps. But the emulator shows the
AT&T engineers that if they go with Sycamore, they won't just be getting
a new switch; they will get unprecedented real-time information on which
stretches of line are open, which are full, and where there are
breakdowns.
Seated inside a small cubicle, Mr. Putambekar and another Sycamore
engineer show an AT&T representative how traffic would be re-routed
from Seattle to Orlando, Fla., if a line were cut. The Sycamore engineers
click a computer mouse to simulate the cut, and the screen shows a
flashing line between Washington and Florida to indicate an emergency.
Immediately, a new route through the Midwest is displayed on the screen.
"I love the technology," says one AT&T representative, who can't hide
his enthusiasm, grabbing Mr. Putambekar by the arm as they sit together
at the console.
`Our Game to Lose Now'
The AT&T team spends all week in Chelmsford, more than Mr.
Swanson expected. Sycamore still hasn't managed to expedite the time it
takes to re-route traffic below a second, but assures AT&T that
improvements are imminent.
AT&T has made no decision yet whether to buy the SN 16000, but Mr.
Swanson says the phone company has told him that it will probably bring
several switches back to its labs in New Jersey for testing later this
summer. AT&T declines to comment.
"It's our game to lose now," Mr. Swanson says. Prospects are also
looking bright with Williams, a fast-growing carrier in Tulsa with a large
fiber-optic network. Last year, Williams chose to work with Ciena in
developing switches. At the time, Ciena told Williams that it was just
several months away from having a version of the product for field trials,
according to Anthony Wright, Williams's chief lab technologist for optical
networking. Mr. Wright and other Williams engineers say the Ciena
switch has had had numerous software and hardware problems. The field
trials are still several months off.
Now, Williams is testing switches from both Ciena and Sycamore. Over
lunch in Tulsa with Mr. Swanson and several other Sycamore engineers,
Satya S. Baddipudi, a Williams software engineer helping to oversee the
tests, says he had found a large number of software bugs in the Ciena
product. "I've been breaking their stuff for three months," he says, adding,
"They hate me." Mr. Wright says Williams still hasn't made a decision
about which switch to test in the field first, but that Ciena is "still
not there.
They have had a lot of problems." He adds that there is a good chance
that Sycamore will receive an order from Williams for the switch.
Mr. Wright says Williams has been very impressed with Sycamore's
product, especially the emulator. The software is "absolutely the best"
Williams has seen, he says. A Ciena spokesman denies that there have
been problems with its product.
On May 9, Sycamore engineers assemble for a meeting with Mr. Smith,
the CEO. As part of a management shuffle, Mr. Smith announces that
Mr. Swanson is being re-assigned to another project within the company.
Rightly or wrongly, Mr. Smith says he considers the SN 16000 already a
success, and he wants Mr. Swanson for another project at Sycamore that
is behind schedule and needing help.
The new job, which expands his responsibilities, is bittersweet for Mr.
Swanson. He views it as a vote of confidence from Sycamore, but he
misses his colleagues from Project Orange, which was his baby for more
than a year. Mr. Swanson discussed the new job with his wife for several
weeks before he accepted. The couple agreed it was an opportunity he
couldn't pass up.
The new job has meant more hours, and more headaches. Last month,
Ms. Swanson came to her husband's office and marked his calendar with
a vacation to Nantucket the family was planning to take in mid-June, soon
after their son Zachary's eighth birthday. It was to be the first family
sojourn in several years.
Swamped in his new role, Mr. Swanson was asked recently if the trip
was still on. "Unfortunately," he says, "I don't think it's going to happen."