Thursday, October 19, 2006

The more statistically inclined may scoff at this, indeed may construct a pie chart baked with scorn, but pivot tables are just shit hot. I’ve been trying to find that fabled place where work and fun exist in concert, rather than a one-sided beatdown, and a week or so ago it was slowgoing. At around the same time the Cat revealed this secret of Excel, made its alien origins familiar, and managing gobs of data has become enjoyable. Thanks, buddy.

I’m a believer now because, although cross-sheet formulas–or formulae, for those of you who enjoy getting stuffed into lockers–and dayglow colors and filters are useful, there are instances when the flow of data is a little stupefying, where clicking anywhere on your spreadsheet will land you in cell number double-oh-shits. You may have concluded from our talk that a pivot table is the stuff of magic, the conjuration of wizards and princesses, so I need to tell you it’s nothing of the sort. It’s simply a slicker way to take a bunch of numbers and tell the story the way the crowd wants to hear it. You want the story told by song? In iambic tetrameter? By carrier pigeon? Check, check, and check.

The Dwight Schrute bobblehead continues to weave its charms. Replicas usually don’t do it for me, even though I gravitate toward the affiliated media like a high-def lush, and I can proudly say I’ve never considered purchasing a lightsaber or Hilary Swank’s sweat-stained boxing gloves. But this trinket, bless its high quality feel, threatens to become a necessity at any moment.