The MFA rollout disaster
The company commits to unblocking the app-driven electrolyte supply within the next few days
“The MFA rollout is a total disaster,” Xavier said to his software engineering team. They all sat around the table in the Glass room, a small conference space in the QuenchAI office.
“What happened?” asked Cam, a software engineer on the team.
“We’re showing a QR code in the MFA multifactor authentication onboarding flow. Customers are confused why we’re directing them to look at our menu,” Xavier responded.
Cam furrowed his brow. “That is what we set out to build. What is confusing? We implemented the spec exactly. There’s text directing them to scan the code with their authenticator app. We don’t have an easy way to roll this back.”
Xavier took a deep breath. “They’re confused why,” he said as he shook his head, “we’re asking them to look at our restaurant menu.”
The room sat in stunned silence.
“Users…think…we’re asking them to look at our restaurant menu?” Cam’s eyes widened. “Why? Why would we ask them to do that?”
“That’s why they’re confused,” Xavier responded.
“No, I mean, why do they believe it’s a restaurant menu?”
Helvetica, the product manager, leaned in. “It makes sense if you think about it. We’re familiar with this flow because we work at a tech company. Every employee enrolls in MFA with an authenticator app and scans a QR code to access tools we’ve paid for as a company. Users not working for a tech company might only see a QR code when they’re ready to order at a restaurant.”
“What about context? What about our MFA authentication user flow would make them think it might be a restaurant menu? Why would we ask them to secure their accounts by ordering a breakfast burrito?” Cam asked.
“As I said, that’s why they’re confused,” Xavier responded.
“I don’t understand.” Cam buried his face.
Raster, the social media coordinator, burst in through the door, his hair disheveled with a few Cheeto crumbs clinging to his Civil War beard.
Xavier’s team looked at him.
“Why on Earth,” Raster said, emphasizing each word with a puff of Cheeto dust, “are we asking people to order a breakfast burrito on our app?”
Xavier looked over at Cam. “See, it’s confusing.”
Cam sighed.
Raster looked very seriously at Xavier. “This is blowing up on social media. It’s now literally a crisis.”
“A crisis?” Xavier’s team responded in unison.
Raster started casting his phone to the TV in the room. “Yes, literally a crisis. Everything is on fire.” A social media feed appeared.
Everyone turned towards the TV.
“Check out what Mrs. Ris is saying here.” Raster pointed to the screen as a video began to play.
A young woman pointed her phone at her face. “This is so messed up. I’m in a bad place today.” Mrs. Ris frowned and looked off. “My favorite app showed me a restaurant menu QR code. I’ve been scanning the code for hours, and the same thing keeps happening: No menu ever shows up.”
“You don’t even want to see the comments,” Raster said. “They’re not nice, to say the least. Check out this gem.”
He pulled up a new video on the screen. This one had a man shouting and gesturing to the camera. Raster turned up the volume.
“...It’s just so problematic! Not only do I have to pay $20 a month for the QuenchAI app to make sure I get enough electrolytes — it’s the wetness humaning multiplier, by the way — QuenchAI dares to upsell me on some sort of food purchase through their app. Shameless capitalism in this age of late-stage capitalism. Not that the link ever works. I’ve been scanning for two days. I haven’t eaten a thing. I’m sooooo hungry.
“Even if it did work, what if I were what if I were a manatee? Manatee vision is extremely poor. They sense the world through their vibrissae. Where does QuenchAI expect those manatee vibrissae to be placed? On their phone screens? With all that E. coli? This is manatee genocide. Imagine all these manatees, thick yellowish discharge dripping down their vibrissae, collapsing dead in the street. So sad.”
“How much time do we have, Raster?” Helvetica asked.
“Time until what?” Cam asked.
“Until mass starvation. User expectations are quite strong. We overlooked the use of QR codes for restaurant menus, which is the more dominant use case for this user experience. Users will continue to scan over and over, expecting a restaurant menu to appear, until they starve.” Helvetica responded.
Xavier fell out of his chair. The thud rattled the coffee cups on the table. He slowly pushed himself off the ground. “Dear god.”
Helvetica continued, “Their bodies will search for other sources of energy, eventually breaking down muscle tissue. They will begin to lose heart, liver, and kidney function. Soon after, their extremities and bellies will swell. At this point, they’ll briefly consider what pose will drive the most engagement on their social media accounts. At the end, they’ll cease moving altogether.” Helvetica faced Raster and repeated the question, “How much time do we have?”
“Humans can live for up to three weeks without food,” Raster said while slowly taking off his glasses, “but only three to five days without water. Water is the wetness that helps us human harder. Those who have a water bottle handy will last longer than others. But without the QuenchAI wetness humaning multiplier, I don’t know.” Raster blinked his eyes and slowly put his glasses back on. “I need those to see,” he added.
“It’s time to pivot,” Xavier said.
“Pivot to what?” Cam asked.
“We need to come together as a team and update our app to align with customer expectations.” Xavier turned to face Helvetica. “How quickly can you throw together a PRD to display an actual restaurant menu when they scan our QR code?”
Helvetica rubbed her sinuses. “I don’t know. I need to conduct competitor research. Talk to customers. Write up a PRD document. Create tickets. Hold agile ceremonies. Create Gantt charts. Get cross-department buy-in. Three weeks, maybe.”
“We need to do it in the next 24 hours.”
Helvetica stepped towards Xavier. “You’re asking for the impossible.”
“When QuenchAI first started, critics said our vision of mobile app electrolyte delivery wasn’t possible. Some even said it didn’t make logical sense.” Xavier turned towards the poster of QuenchAI CEO, Jebediah Rockefeller, on the wall. “But by god, we found a way. I know what I’m asking you is hard, but that is exactly why I’m asking you. You can do hard things. We can do hard things. Skip the ceremonies. Skip the Gantt charts.”
Helvetica took a step towards Xavier, “When I completed my Product Manager training, I swore an oath upon the very altar of Thought Leadership to uphold the values of customer-centricity and value delivery, whatever the cost. Does an oath not mean anything to you?”
“Our OKRs are at stake,” Xavier said through gritted teeth.
Helvetica lowered her voice. “Our value delivery is at stake. What good are the OKRs with that? Just give me the Gantt charts. I need it. So badly…”
“Umm. What about engineering? We still need to build this,” Cam interjected.
Helvetica and Xavier shook their heads.
“Engineering is the most essential part of this project. Without execution, this project is just an idea.” Cam added.
Xavier looked at Helvetica, and then back at Cam. “Did you use your QuenchAI app today? Looks like you’re humaning suboptimally at the moment. All of us have a part to play in delivering value here. Programming. Thought leadership. Ceremony. Synergy. Upholding the principles of the Agile Manifesto,” he said as he motioned to a framed copy on the walls.
Off to the side, Raster gave a thumbs up, filming for social media.
“We could ramp up electrolyte delivery in the QuenchAI app, extending our deadline from a few days to a few weeks. More than enough time to create a few Gantt charts.” Helvetica said.
Xavier clapped his hands together. “Brilliant!—”
“Not ‘brilliant’”, Cam interrupted. “The QuenchAI app doesn’t actually give out electrolytes. People are still going to die in a few days.”
“What the hell,” Raster said as he lowered his phone. “Why’d you have to go and do that, Cam? We had perfectly good content there.”
“It had to be said. Lives are at stake. There is no mechanism by which a phone can give your body electrolytes. It doesn’t make sense.”
Xavier shook his head. “Cam, we welcomed you into the QuenchAI family because we thought you believed in our mission to democratize electrolyte delivery for the world.” Xavier moved to within a few inches of Cam’s face. “As we speak, there are people in the favelas of Rio de Janeiro getting all the electrolytes they’ve ever dreamed of, wetness multiplied humaning at levels never before seen, thanks to us. Does that mean nothing to you?”
“The favelas of Rio de Janeiro,” Cam repeated.
“Yes. The favelas of Rio de Janeiro. They may lack many things — food, shelter, education, and safety — but one thing they do not lack is electrolytes. Their phones are showering them with a monsoon of electrolytes, nourishing their bodies with wetness for multiplied humaning. We did that. You, me, and the whole QuenchAI family.”
A brief vision of all the possible futures flashed before Cam’s eyes. Every single one led to the same outcome. “Alright, let’s ramp up electrolyte delivery.”
“Nice to hear you’re on board,” Xavier said, slapping him on the shoulder.
***
Three days later, the QuenchAI office was gone. In its place was a large crater.
Raster, covered in ash and Cheetos, shuffled with a stiff, lumbering gait down the street in front of the crater. To his right, an emaciated man pointed his phone at the QuenchAI QR code on his laptop with trembling hands. He waited a few moments, then slumped to the ground, closed his eyes, and waited for his maker.
A few blocks over, Helvetica staggered amongst the rubble, her eyes darting left and right. “It’s ready,” she cried out, thrusting into the air a Gantt chart of staggering beauty. “We can schedule an overview meeting. Then a tech spec meeting. Then we can estimate the units of complexity. Then we can get it on the roadmap. Then, a ticket grooming meeting. Then we can allocate the stories to a sprint…”
Nearby strangers looked up from their phones.
Helvetica grabbed the closest stranger and brought him close. “It’s not too late! We can fix this by Q2!”
Elsewhere, a gang of teens pointed guns at Cam. “Your electrolytes or your life!”
An exhausted Cam handed over his phone. “This…doesn’t…give…electrolytes,” he muttered.
“Whatever. More wetness multiplied humaning for us,” the teens said before pushing him to the ground and running off.