Most of them get a very quick “no” out of me. Like, for example, Google. I got an email from a Google recruiter a while back, something along the lines of “We have some great opportunities here at Google, and I just wanted to see if you have any interest!”

He actually used an exclamation point, as if as soon as I saw the words “Google” and “opportunities” used in the same sentence I would nearly wet myself with excitement. Finally, the great GOOG is calling on me, after all these years of quiet desparation and yearning! My actual response was, and I quote, “No, thanks.” Google has a reputation for not paying very well, and for having something of an elitist, hipper-than-thou culture that I want no part of. I can’t imagine the shock this recruiter experienced when he discovered–probably for the first time–that everyone isn’t dying to go to work there.

Another didn’t survive past the first question. “How much experience do you have writing web apps in Perl?” “None. I know better.” Where on my resume does it say I have ever written a web application in Perl? I think the very act of being willing to admit I ever had would show a significant lack of judgment that would turn any potential suitor away.

A few recruiters get a little further with me than that. But almost inevitably, they (or the company they represent) find some creative way to lose my interest shortly thereafter. Like the company I won’t name that hounded me more than a year ago. I had occasion to be in the same room with one of their employees on a semi-regular basis, and every time I did he would try to get me to talk to one of their recruiters. Finally I caved, and a technical interview was set up. Fair warning to all recruiters: I’m a terribly lazy person (it’s part of why I write software), and if I’m really not interested in your position I am going to half-ass your interview. Just so you know.

Oh, and if you set me up with someone who has no business conducting interviews I am not going to rise to the occasion and shine like a pro, I’m going to toy with him. That’s what this company did. Within two minutes of the start of the interview I could tell the interviewer had no idea what he was doing. He’d ask me questions like, “So, do you know how to use threads?” and I would respond with informative, thorough, clearly thought-out responses like, “Yes.” About ten minutes into the thing I was about to terminate the interview myself (which I will do–and have done–if I get bored enough), when he beat me to the punch. Later I got a phone call from the recruiter telling me, “Yeah, we’re looking for someone with some stronger Java skills.”

I replied, “Given who you have now, I would be, too.”

I have walked out of interviews, like I did when an interviewer asked me to come up with an algorithm to solve a sudoku board. With a marker. On a whiteboard. Seriously. In that case I was already squarely on the fence about the position anyways for other reasons (if you’re trying to woo a potential employee, try not telling them that you’re not sure if you have a sustainable business, or if you yourself will even be sticking around), and that question shoved me right off of it on the side of “I’m going home now.” They had even paid for plane fare to get me there, which I sort of felt guilty about.

That last mistake was actually a pretty common one, it turns out, and at its core it is this: Do not ask me to jump through hoops until you’ve given me really good reason to want to jump through them. That sounds snobby, but I honestly get anywhere from five to nine random inquiries per week from different recruiters. If you’re one of them, you need to remember that I’m not looking for you, you were apparently looking for me. If you give me the slightest reason to turn you down I’m going to do it, because there’s a whole line of recruiters right behind you and I have to weed through you somehow. One of the surest ways to get me to terminate the process is to make the mistake of thinking that I need (or want) a job, and am therefore motivated to go through a bunch of process to get to an interview. I’m not, and I won’t.

I don’t really like to interview to begin with, so if you happen to get me to agree to an interview, for heaven’s sake do NOT blow it by sending me a job application with instructions to “make sure I fill it out before the interview.” I’m not going to. You know what I will take the time to do, though? Compose a short email cancelling the interview, and making it clear that I will not be seeking to reschedule it. (Don’t believe me? I did exactly that not two hours ago. I’ll give you the recruiter’s contact information if you want to verify.)

It’s not that I’m a prima donna, nor do I have illusions of grandeur concerning my worth as an engineer. Please. I know my station. But since you came to me, it’s really sort of unrealistic (maybe even rude) to expect me to do a bunch of leg work in order to talk to you when I really didn’t ask to in the first place. And besides, a job application? Really? What is this, Arby’s? Sometimes I’m tempted to fill them out with a bunch of fictitious babysitting and fast-food jobs. Reason for leaving: Mom said if my grades didn’t improve I couldn’t work school nights anymore.

I have a carefully-constructed resume and an even more carefully-constructed 11-year track record in the industry. Don’t ask me to write out my employment history in long hand, outlining my “responsibilities” for a 6.5-year position in a tiny little box. It’s just not going to happen.

I found out recently that people actually do read this blog (which made me briefly consider taking it down and letting the domain expire). I don’t know how many of them are recruiters (though some of them have told me this is how they found me; why on earth anyone would read my drivel and still want to contact me afterward is a profound mystery). But if you’re a recruiter and you see yourself or your company reflected in this post, do me a big favor: Don’t call me. I’d appreciate it.

On December 18, 2005, a 37-year-old woman who was mother to three children answered her door, and was greeted by a man who claimed he was having car trouble, and needed to use her phone. She was later found shot and hanged to death in the basement of her home, near Culpeper, VA.

On New Year’s Day, 2006, a family of four were found beaten, stabbed, and bound in the basement of their house in Richmond, VA. The two daughters were 9 and 4 years of age. None of them survived. One of the two men who slaughtered them was the same man who had killed the woman near Culpeper. The pair went on to kill another family of three only five days later.²

Monsters are real.

I tell you this because, of late, I’ve been hearing from a lot of people who seem genuinely puzzled as to why I feel the need to own a gun. Some have made me the subject of jokes about “violent tendencies” (which I do not have, and as a matter of fact, those of you who do not possess concealed carry permits are statistically 5.5 times more likely to be arrested for a violent crime than those of us who do³). Some have even gone so far as to pay me the insult of questioning my intelligence, my background, and my mental competence. Since so many of you have been so forthright in sharing your opinions about my choice to keep a firearm, I’m going to be very blunt about one of my own:

I am completely dumbfounded that any of you seem to have to have this explained to you. I am shocked that so many of you who are otherwise sharp, intelligent, reasonable people have been so snowed by the anti-gun crowd that you appear to actually believe their myths, when the truth is so easily discovered. I am honestly disconcerted to have found that several of you are so naive as to believe that in this day and age, no one needs to possess or conceal such a weapon.

Following are some of the fallacies I have heard put forth by some that honestly causes me to question their own intelligence and mental competence.

You’re more likely to be killed with your own gun than the criminal is.

No I’m not. That simply isn’t true. I dare any of you to cite a single document that can back this claim with real data. The truth is that every single day, 550 rapes, 1,100 murders, and 5,200 various other violent crimes are prevented because the intended victim, or some samaritan nearby, had a gun. In less than 0.9% of those cases is the weapon actually fired.⁴

In Britain, where private gun ownership is almost completely forbidden, 59% of burglaries are committed against residences while the occupants are at home. In the United States, where many more law-abiding citizens are armed (and criminals know this), that rate is only 13%.⁵ The adage that “criminals prefer an unarmed public” is not just a bumper sticker slogan.

Your odds of remaining uninjured in a violent attack if you choose not to resist are 75%. WIth a knife, your chances are 60%. If you attempt some form of non-violent resistance, you have a 55% chance of coming out alright. If you use a gun to defend yourself, your odds of not only surviving the encounter, but of remaining unharmed, are 94%.⁶

You cannot convince me - nor should any sane, logical, intelligent person be convinced - that if someone enters my home with the intent to inflict harm upon myself or my family that I am somehow safer if I do not have an effective means with which to defend myself. You cannot convince me that any of the people mentioned at the top of this post (except for the criminals themselves) are better off because none of the family members was prepared to defend the home with deadly force. Imagine how different the outcome might have been if any of them had been.

You can’t have a gun in your house, you have kids!

Yes. Also I have bleach, pesticides, anti-freeze, and dozens of other chemicals and substances that are very deadly to children. Not to mention the knives we keep in our kitchen. Must I get rid of those, as well? No. What I do with them is the very same thing I do with my gun - I store it such that they cannot access it.

If you don’t believe that you’re competent enough to safely store a firearm, then don’t. And while you’re at it, get rid of all of your kitchen knives and potentially harmful substances, because you probably shouldn’t be trusted to keep your kids safe from those, either. But don’t try to tell me that I’m as incompetent as you fear you are. I assure you that I am not.

There’s one other thing I really don’t want in my home, because of the fact that they are very dangerous to children: violent criminals. But since I don’t really get a say as to whether or not they’ll be present (and don’t fool yourself into thinking that you do, either), then it would be highly irresponsible of me not to be prepared to keep my children safe from them, wouldn’t it?

What’s your excuse?

Only the police should have guns.

If there were a way to make sure that happened, that no criminal could ever gain access to a firearm, and if it could be guaranteed that an armed officer would always be around when needed, I might almost be inclined to agree. However, there are many who have guns for purposes other than self-defense (competition matches, target shooting, hunting, etc.) who would not agree, and I can think of no good reason to disarm these folks. The reality is, though, that the average duration of a violent encounter is under a minute. Unless there’s an officer standing next to you when the nightmare scenario unfolds, who is going to save you? As Tom Palmer, one of the plaintiffs in the landmark Heller vs. The District case currently before the Supreme Court says, “If someone gets into your house, which would you rather have, a handgun or a telephone? You can call the police if you want, and they’ll get there, and they’ll take a picture of your dead body. But they can’t get there in time to save your life. The first line of defense is you.”⁷

The “only the police should have guns” rhetoric is really part of a much larger, completely illogical (and yet, oddly popular) fallacy, which is that gun control somehow reduces violent crime. It has been proven over, and over, and over again that this is not at all true. Washington DC banned gun ownership in 1976, and has for many years enjoyed the status of being the murder capital of the world. In reality, it has been shown that gun control laws result in a marked increase in violent crimes in the areas in which they’re enacted, while the loosening of restrictions around firearms ownership and increased availability of concealed carry permits consistently send crime rates tumbling.

Yet, it is far easier to keep the blinders on, and repeat the mantra that “guns are bad.” Firearms are used 60 times more often to protect life than to take it.⁸ But no, we shouldn’t be allowed to have them.

Please.

Gun owners have to face these questions all the time, even though they’ve been answered very clearly by plenty of data. When tragedies like the VA Tech massacre happen, the knee-jerk reaction is inevitably a cry for more stringent gun laws. People always want to take the guns away from those of us who didn’t do it. It somehow never occurs to them to notice that these things always happen in so-called “gun-free safe zones” where it is already illegal to possess a gun. The folly is, of course, that the criminal isn’t terribly concerned as to whether or not he’s legally allowed to possess the weapon with which he’s about to slaughter random, innocent people. What he often does know, however, is that none of his targets will be armed - because it’s a gun-free safe zone. And it is, indeed, a very safe place for him.

When asked the question, “Why do you own a gun?” or “Why do you carry a gun?” the answers often given range from the whimsical (”Because I cannot carry a cop.”), to the trite, but practical (”For the same reason you wear a seatbelt when you’re in a car.”), to the ideological (”Because it is my right to do so.”) My answer is this:

Monsters are real. But the real ones are not bulletproof.

References:

1. http://www.nytimes.com/2007/08/07/nyregion/07slay.html
2. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harvey_family_murder
3, 4. National Crime Victimization Survey, 2000, Bureau of Justice Statistics, BATF estimates on handgun supply
5. Dr. Gary Kleck, Criminologist, Florida State University (1997) and Kopel (1992 and 1999)
6. British Home Office
7. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qyoLuTjguJA
8. Fall 1995, Journal of Criminal Law and Criminology

Want more truth? http://www.gunfacts.info

But that I couldn’t satisfactorily answer that question is not why I don’t work for Yahoo (and I don’t really begrudge them asking such algorithmic questions, even if I think they’re mostly contrived and silly). In fact, almost all of my interviews could not have gone better than they did. There was one at the end of the day that completely derailed, but it was actually unimportant (long story). My first interview, which was with the lead architect of the group, ended with her saying “Well, I like you. I’m gonna tell them to hire you.” Much of the rest of them went about as well.

In the end, that became the general sentiment. The hiring manager assured me that the position was very senior, and that he and his team were convinced that I was the guy for the job. Shortly after my trip, Yahoo made me an offer. That’s where things began to head south.

It really started much earlier when, during my phone interviews, the subject of salary came up. This was the second time I had been asked about it, and I gave the same range as I had the first time. Yahoo’s offer, though, didn’t fit within that range - and by that I don’t mean they erred on the high side. They also knew that I had a standing offer on the table from one of their top competitors. What they didn’t know was that I wasn’t really interested in it. Hey, you can’t put all your cards on the table right?

Yahoo’s offer was good, and it did beat their competitor’s, but only barely, and without any cost-of-living adjustment. This was a problem, given that the cost-of-living difference between here and California is not insignificant. They also offered a nice relocation package, decent stock benefits, an annual bonus, and even a well-thought-out “poison pill” package they’ve put in place in case of a takeover by Microsoft or anyone else. What it did not include was a salary that was sufficient for me to be able to afford to support my family in California.

I pointed this out to them, and also noted that their offer was not within the range I had given them (twice). The hiring manager gushed about the seniority and importance of the position, and about how convinced they were that I was their guy (which, by the way, doesn’t entice me to accept it so much as it convinces me we should be negotiating salary). I asked if they could bring their salary offer into my range, which really wasn’t all that much higher. After a few days deliberation, their answer came back: No.

Okay, well, since I did want to go back to California, and so does my wife, we were willing to make some sacrifices if we had to in order to make it work out. I was willing to move there by myself until we could get our house ready to go on the market if Yahoo were willing to allow me to fly back here and work from home for one week each month. I didn’t want them to pay for it, only to allow it.

Nope.

Yahoo, or at least this team, doesn’t allow telecommuting. Between you and me, I’m pretty sure that this whole Internet thing is going to be pretty big one day, but they seem rather unconvinced.

Essentially they told me over and over that I’m the one for them, and that the position is very important, and that they’re sure I’m the one who can take the project from inception to launch successfully, but then stubbornly refused to budge on any of the merits of their offer. I got the impression that Yahoo thought they were shopping in the Saturn dealership of talent markets, complete with “No-Haggle Pricing.” Their take-it-or-leave it approach, however, completely turned me off, and strongly suggested that they weren’t taking me as seriously as they claimed to be. As they say, talk is cheap.

In the end, the recruiter wished me luck in my job search (and I took the opportunity to remind her that I hadn’t been searching; Yahoo approached me, unsolicited), and suggested that I get back with them if my situation changes.

I think she’s referring to that situation in which I require the ability to feed and house myself and my family, but since I didn’t ask I can’t be sure. I’m not sure that one’s going to change soon. Perhaps if we decide the homeless lifestyle appeals to us.

I also made sure to let it be known that I felt some of my time had been wasted: “As for my job search, I’m not really on one; Yahoo approached me. I regret that that has led to the expenditure of so much time for no real reason.”

If you were ever wondering how to eloquently torch a bridge, there’s one example.

Yahoo has a pretty good team over there, and it was fun to meet them. I’m sure they’re going to do great things. But what I’m not sure they realized was that I already work with a pretty great team here, and you’re not going to lure me away with a sub-par salary offer and a rigid, non-negotiable stance. Maybe they know it now, maybe they don’t.

I do feel better, at least, knowing that I’m not the only one who has been unable to get them to negotiate. I hear Microsoft can’t do it, either.

What I find more amusing, though, is the animosity between Virginia and West Virginia. I hear a lot about this, given that I have now lived in West Virginia and worked in Virginia for years. When Virginians hear that I live in West Virginia, they often have all manner of hilarious comments for me. I’m sometimes asked if I have a “yard car” or not (I don’t). Once, on a business conference call (yes, really) a woman who shall remain nameless (though who I’ll tell you I secretly referred to as “Scout Finch”, because that’s who she reminded me of) took a shot at West Virginia. I told her, as I’ve told others, “Being from the north, the thing I don’t understand is why you Virginians act like there’s some sort of a difference.” Clearly, this touched a nerve, because she shot back with some hostility, “There is a difference - we don’t chase our brothers and sisters around.” In a fit of quick thinking the likes of which I have experienced neither before nor since that moment, I replied “That’s only because they don’t run.”

She didn’t even try to recover. Someone tried to come to her aid with some dumb comment about ice fishing in Michigan that sort of fell flat, the awkward silence passed, and the world moved on.

You see, the thing is, I really work in Northern Virginia, most of the inhabitants of which it would seem consider themselves a completely separate state from not only West Virginia (which they are), but also from the rest of Virginia (which, of course, they are not). You will almost never hear anyone from Northern Virginia say they live in Virginia; they almost invariably will tell you they’re from Northern Virginia. But I remember in 5th grade having to learn all the states in alphabetical order - you know, for that song? - and I’m pretty certain there’s no Northern Virginia anywhere on it. Just plain old Virginia. In fact, there’s no Northern anything on the list. It goes straight from North Dakota to Ohio, with no stops in between.

When I think about Northern Virginia’s identity crisis, I’m both saddened and amused. Northern Virginia is like the south’s very own Quebec. If you’re not familiar, Quebec is the province of Canada where everyone speaks French, acts French, thinks of themselves as French, and looks down upon the rest of the country for not being as French as they are. As far as Quebec is concerned, they’re more French than they are Canadian. What they don’t seem to grasp, though, is that France doesn’t claim them. France will happily tell them they are, in fact, a bunch of Canadians in denial. Similarly, Northern Virginians seem to fancy themselves part of the north (hence the Northern).

Sadly, as a genuine, bona fide, dyed-in-the-wool, has-forgotten-more-about-being-cold-than-Northern-Virginians-will-ever-know northerner, I’m afraid I have some bad news. If you’re reading this and you’re from Northern Virgina, first, sorry for all the multi-syllabic words and complex sentence structures, and second: You’re southern. No, really. I know news like this is hard for you to hear, but you had to hear it. You are southern. The north does not claim you. Never has, never will. Our collective advice to you is to embrace your southern brethren before it’s too late and they refuse to take you back. You don’t want to be a land-locked island nation all on your own, do you? Probably not. You’ve got a pretty nice place here, actually. It would be a shame to see it wind up that way.

Besides, the only thing worse than a southern redneck is a southern redneck disguised in a 3-series BMW or Mercedes C-class. So embrace your southernness. Do what comes natural, whether it be buying a pickup truck with huge wheels and CB antennae tall enough to hit traffic lights as you pass beneath them, or wearing one of those tight tank-top style undershirts (commonly referred to as a “wife beater”) while you peruse the aisles of Wal-Mart in search of such trendy home decor items as Billy Bass, the singing fish. Go ahead, drink Budweiser from the can, I know you want to. Free yourselves from these senseless charades!

I mentioned that in addition to being saddened by the plight of the indigenous peoples of Northern Virginia, I’m also amused. It’s because - and it took me a while to realize this - their shots at West Virginia (which, by the way, is a real state separate from the rest of Virginia (lucky them); I looked it up) are really just self-deprecating humor. It used to bother me a little when Northern Virginians waxed disparagingly about the state I now live in (even though it’s not my home), but not now that I’ve realized they’re just lashing out at what they see in themselves like chickens attacking a mirror. Whenever a Northern Virginian asks me if I have a yard car yet, I know it’s because he secretly yearns for one of his own, and wishes to live vicariously through me. I also now realize this is why Scout Finch so vehemently reacted to my gentle suggestion that, from the viewpoint of real northerners, there’s not much difference between the hillbillies from West Virginia and the hillbillies from Virginia (nor those from Northern Virginia, since we’re on the subject).

I wonder if it was a brother or a sister she’d have chased after, if only they’d had the decency to run.

Case in point: Today I was browsing around doing a little research on a Bluetooth headset I’ve had my eye on when I stumbled across a site belonging to a company called Bluetooth Imports. Like so many online retailers, Bluetooth Imports purports to bring you and me “the best products at the lowest prices possible”. I love a good deal as much as anyone, so I thought I’d check their price on the particular device I’m interested in.

According to their site, they do offer a pretty good deal on the Aliph Jawbone I’m pondering. According to their site, they’ve knocked $30 off the regular price of $169.95, and will part with it for a paltry $139.95.

That is, according to their site. And I say “according to their site” because according to reality, that unit retails for $119.99, and can be had for significantly less than that all over the web.

Also according to their site, they offer the $169.99 Plantronics Discovery 665 for a mere $149.95. What a bargain! Except . . . the Discovery 665 is not regularly $169.99, it’s $149.95 at full retail, and can also be found for a lot less than that at dozens of sites around the web. Puzzled why a site that boasts “the lowest prices possible” would be so ridiculously overpriced, I wrote them a note. Unfortunately I used their web form to send the note, so I don’t have what I sent to them verbatim, but I recall pointing out these pricing disrepancies and asking the question, “Why are online sites that say they offer the lowest prices always the most expensive?”

They had an answer. They wrote me back, using a subject line of “Becuase” (their spelling, not mine), and this pubic relations pearl as the entire body of the message - save for their boiler-plate signature:

“We are online stores trying to make money please get over it and choose the cheapest.”

There you have it, folks. If you’re an online store trying to make money, it’s okay to mislead the public into thinking you’re giving them a discounted price on merchandise you’re actually charging full retail - or more - for. Bluetooth Imports said so. The thing that I love most about this response is that, essentially I asked them why they are among the most expensive merchandisers on the web for the products they’re selling, and they actually provided a reason. They didn’t refute it, they explained it. Oh, sure, they explained it with all the tact and language skills of a 7th grade drop-out, but the point is they explained it. They agree that they are amongst the most expensive out there; they have a reason for being so.

Yes, they really did just do something that stupid.

1. I first attended college at the ripe old age of 12. I thought I was 14, but last Christmas the topic came up and my parents convinced me I was 12 (and of course they’re right; it was 1987).
2. I can sing.
3. I used to be a locksmith.
4. I grew up in a house on a lake in Michigan. I’ve forgotten more about being cold than many of you will ever know, I believe that hockey is a religion, not a sport, and every once in a while you can still catch my accent (I’m told it sounds vaguely Canadian).
5. I am very mechanically inclined, and can fix all kinds of stuff.
6. I can do a killer Arlo Guthrie impression. I didn’t know this about myself until today.
7. I am staunchly opposed to capital punishment. If you want to know why, ask me.
8. I have been with my wife since we were teenagers. We both turned 32 this year (her 3.5 months more recently than I).

I’m supposed to tag 8 people, but I only know so many people with personal blogs, and some of them are already tagged. So I’m tagging Alan, Kevin, Jason, Randy, and Will. I have no idea how I’m supposed to alert them.

This is me trying to look like I know what I’m talking about at Barcamp in Washington, DC this past Saturday, August 11. This day was the most fun I’ve had in a long time, and I managed to learn a few things, too. I immediately went home and fixed some of my code based on things I learned there.

The event was very well run, which is due in no small part the outstanding efforts of Jason Garber, Justin Thorp, and Jackson Wilkinson. The space to hold the event was graciously provided by Fleishman-Hillard, and funding was provided by a number of generous sponsors, listed on the BarCampDC home page.

But by nature, the success of a BarCamp relies largely on its participants. I’m happy to say that the participants at this event were a great bunch. The presenters at all the sessions I attended knew their subject material exceptionally well, and they shared their knowledge willingly and eagerly. The audiences were great, too, asking lots of good questions and contributing their own knowledge to the sessions.

The after party was a blast, which you have to expect when you put that many cool people in that small an area. Even though I spent most of the day and evening with folks I know from work, I also met several people I otherwise might not have. Everyone was friendly and just all-around awesome (as Kevin might say).

As Mr. Garber said the other night, I, too, am in awe of the organizers and participants of this event. I’m already looking forward to the next one with great anticipation.

I can’t say it enough - thank you organizers, thank you sponsors, thank you presenters, thank you Fleishman-Hillard, and thank you participants. Thank you everyone!

I was trying to figure out how, even though my join table only defined a relationship between two records, ActiveRecord appeared to know which direction that relationship was created in. I have two classes, Product and Language, which have a habtm relationship with one another. If I take a Product p, and a Language l, and do first “p.languages << l” and then “l.destroy”, the row in the join table holding this association survives. But, if I do “p.destroy”, the association goes away with p. It makes sense - but how the heck did ActiveRecord know that the relationship had been declared as “p having l” instead of the other way around? For the answer, follow this bouncing ball:

We begin with a language whose ID in the database is 1, and a product whose ID is 2 (just so we can tell them apart). When I do “p.languages << l”, Rails does this in the database:

INSERT INTO languages_products (`product_id`, `id`, `language_id`) VALUES (2, 1, 1)

The color coding is there for a reason, and is a big hint as to what’s going on. Now, when I do “l.products << p”, watch what Rails does:

INSERT INTO languages_products (`product_id`, `id`, `language_id`) VALUES (2, 2, 1)

Do you see the trick? Watch what happens when I execute “p.languages.delete(l)”:

DELETE FROM languages_products WHERE product_id = 2 AND language_id IN (1)

. . . and when I run “l.products.delete(p)”:

DELETE FROM languages_products WHERE language_id = 1 AND product_id IN (2)

If you haven’t figured it out yet, what Rails is doing is cleverly using the id field in the languages_products table to tell it which side of the relationship holds the reference to the other side; in other words, which is acting as the “belongs_to”. Once it knows that, it knows whether or not it should delete the relationship. (Well, it doesn’t really “know” any of this - it’s using clever SQL to make it happen automatically).

Pretty slick if you ask me. But then it occurred to me to wonder - if ActiveRecord is (ab)using the id field to track the side of the relationship that holds the reference, what would happen if you tried to, for example, state that two products had a particular single language in their collection? The answer is, not surprisingly, this:

Mysql::Error: #23000Duplicate entry ‘2′ for key 1: INSERT INTO languages_products (`product_id`, `id`, `language_id`) VALUES (3, 2, 2)

Since the id field on the join table is a primary key, you get a collision. So you have two options - you can either remove that field altogether (in which case all that smartness about the relationships goes away, which can be desirable if you want the relationship to be destroyed regardless of which side goes away), or you can include it, but not allow it to be a primary key. Remember that migrations create a primary key by default, and you have to explicitly tell it not to when you create your join table. In the case of Products and Languages:

create_table :languages_products, :id => false do |t|

Captured this on the Ohio Turnpike. I admire the guy’s chutzpah, showing the world what he thinks of it even as he’s passed out in the back seat of a car.

Spotted these on a store shelf in Michigan. I wonder if “Reality” means that the box is actually empty.