First off, let me be clear here. I’m not some big shot super-successful business guru that you should model your life on. These are rules that I’ve learned or made for myself over the last decade or so, often from bitter failure. If I had the opportunity to go back in time and give 20 year old me career advice it would be a long conversation, but these points would form the core of it. So do yourself a favor and learn from my mistakes! Or don’t, I’m not your supervisor after all.
I’ve been thinking about privacy and the inherent conflict between the drive by advertisers to want to know more and the need to respect end users personal information. I ended up writing two articles about it. The first is up on the RadiumOne corporate blog and talks about threats to end user Personally Identifiable Information (PII) presented by the growing trend toward integrating mobile analytics tools with programatic media buying solutions and how RadiumOne is addressing that issue.
The second post is up on iCrunchData news and goes a bit more into the nuts and bolts of digital media targeting, as well as some of the threats to user data posed by solutions that don’t use the data themselves but store it on behalf of third parties.
Jake sighed as he slumped against the steering wheel of his truck and moved back into the lane. He had moved over to the side to let a motorcycle past because the truck filled the whole lane. It had been years since he’d been on a bike, the girl who loved to ride on the back of his cruiser when they were dating had mysteriously morphed into a wife who made him sell his bike because she was worried he’d get killed riding it. At least that meant she wanted him to make it home, right? Things could be worse. Some couples burned hot for a few years and then faded but they still lay in bed on Saturday mornings laughing and cuddling like newlyweds. He smiled, thinking about her eyes looking up at him. Continue reading
The airstrike rattled the city, everything shook. Dust rattled down from the rafters and somewhere in the basement below an infant cried. Mo sat as still as he could amidst the crush of strangers and tried to focus on breathing. The air was thin, too many lungs sucking oxygen and not enough ventilation. The earth shook again beneath the roar of planes overhead, and the thunder of bombs; aggravating the ringing in his ears.
He had ended up here by sheer good luck, if you could call it that. The university had closed months ago because of the protests and never re-opened. When the military had opened fire on protests in the capital the shock waves went right across the country. Many of the students had joined militias, others fled. Mo headed for the border, he couldn’t muster enough faith to believe in a revolution and the fundamentalists were even worse than the soldiers. On foot it was a long journey and the war overtook him. Continue reading