Yesterday, as I was going through what seemed like the most severe after-lunch dip in recent memory, I logged on to ADPList to meet a designer from Denmark. It’s miraculous, the effect unexpected kindness can have on the body. After 30 minutes, I skipped out of my meeting booth ready to take on the rest of the afternoon, which I did, and it rocked.
Here’s a summary of her booking request:
The March edition of the IndieWeb Carnival is about accessibility on the small web. The host, orchids, touches on a note-worthy design pattern found in this fine corner of the Internet: that of artsy, personal websites that emulate technology of old, particularly the early days of Internet. The fair question orchids poses is: how does this design pattern affect people with particular accessibility needs?
Here I am.
More than any other time in my online life am I aware of the value of alt text. I make a point to write image descriptions whenever I can. Kind strangers with a variety of accessibility needs have been helping me understand how to best capture my interpretation of an image. I’ve come to regard alt text as the secret side bar I get to have with blind people and others who need it.
It has been snowing in Amsterdam. As the years go by, I’m having trouble understanding whether I’m experiencing the effects of global warming, or whether I’ve never paid attention to what was always in front of me until now. It is likely a combination of the two. Either way, it is sad to see Amsterdammers retreat into their homes after two weeks of shorts and drinks in the sun.
Leeruniek’s Product team is hiring, and I’ve been the one taking care of the recruitment process for two engineering and one design role. So far, I’ve found a new front-end engineer as well as a designer within two months, so I suppose you could say I’ve been busy. If this process has been teaching me anything new, it’s that 1) I very much enjoy meeting people and learning about their (work) life stories, 2) there is such value in building strong relationships with recruiters who make you smile, and 3) it takes two weeks of introdutory chats before I begin to regret having to listen to my own voice give the same pitch over and over again.
The tourists are back in town. Lots of Germans with face masks. I suppose we’re all beginning to venture out into the world again, just a bit closer to home. Anja and I are considering taking the ferry to Norway. Apparently you can camp virtually anywhere in that country, as long as you “leave it cleaner than you found it” and make sure you’re gone after two days. At this point, we’re vastly underestimating how attached we are to luxury. I can still hear myself whining “Bonsoihoir”. This was the catch-all name we used anyone who would come to the door of our Parisian hotel room with a bucket of ice, “no, not for champagne, just for the drinks”. I also really don’t like ticks, and I simply can’t imagine that Norway somehow doesn’t have the national health crisis taunting its neighbor.
After five years of learning, falling on my face, making friends, and getting to know the travel industry, the time has come for me to say goodbye to Airtrade. This year, the travel industry took a huge blow, with many of the small and big clients we’ve acquired over the years in serious heavy water. What’s more, five years is a good run, wouldn’t you say?
My next adventure is taking me even deeper into making tools for people at work, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. I’m joining Leeruniek, a startup creating data-driven educational technology. They’re a smaller team than what I worked with the past five years, and I’m curious to see what impact that has on the way I work.
