PortFAILio: The Art of NOT Getting a Job

With GDC 2013 around the corner and many students and professionals planning to kick their job search into high gear, I thought it worthwhile to be sharing my own particular flavor of thoughts on job hunting for artists.  While lots of other talented individuals have contributed to this topic in the past, I wanted to add a slightly different "spin."  This is also lifted straight from a presentation I gave to a group of students at Ringling College of Art & Design this past December 2012.

Disclaimer:  I'm using "portfolio" as a generic term.  I'm not referring only to physical media.  Your portfolio is your website, your forum presence or your profile on any number of art sites.  Your portfolio is your work, regardless of the manner in which it is presented.

Knot.

This article is NOT (get it?) about what to include in your portfolio.  Why?  Simply put, there is no strict formula as to what to include and what not to include.  In fact, the types of things one might include varies from studio to studio, from project to project and from position to position.  There are nigh-infinite variables to consider.  And unlike some Mordor-forged ring, there is no "one portfolio to rule them all."

So, why am I writing this?

Unlike Roulette, there's no guarantee your ball will find a home.

I want to improve your odds.  I've been in your shoes and count myself fortunate that I was able to enter the industry when I did.  I started in 1998 and the industry landscape is very different now from how it was then -- not better, not worse, just different.  Regardless, any job seeker needs to understand that the job market is rough, especially for students.  How bad is it?  Let me put it this way, students don't have to compete with each other any more.  With the high turnover rate at publishers and large number of shuttered studios, students now have to compete with professionals - those with real experience and shipped titles to their credit.  In the face of that much adversity, I want to help.  There were a few key individuals who helped me when I was starting out, and now it's my turn.

Yes, people use to have them, and yes, I used to carry them to interviews.

Also, I've spent many years reviewing portfolios, sourcing candidates, conducting interviews and .... discarding applications.  Every recruiter you ever meet will tell you that they throw away more applications than they actually consider.  As I mentioned above, the things to include in one's portfolio is wildly subjective.  While I can provide more general pointers, there are plenty of others who have already done so.  What I want to do is point out the "portfolio killers."  These are the most common things applicants do, oftentimes well-meaning, which transform their portfolio into a portFAILio.

The Dog Shit

Understand?

Let's go ahead and get this out of the way first.  Don't put any "dog shit" work in your portfolio.  I don't have to explain why.  More important, you shouldn't be the one making this evaluation either.
 
How to Fix:
Find someone you trust who can also be brutally critical of your work.  No holds barred criticism.  They will call out the dogshit to you and you must excise it with extreme prejudice.  No second thinking, because there are no second chances.

The Scatter Shot

Got any hits in that portfolio?

This is the most common failing of student portfolios.   That was certainly my portfolio's failing, and it continued to be a problem with my portfolio even two years after I had entered the industry.  This is the Jack of All Trades problem, combined with the fact that most students haven't yet built up a library of sample work.  In short, there's a little bit of everything, but none of it is truly exceptional.  This portfolio loses out to the candidate who has really honed a specific skill and has built strength in a key area or two.

How to Fix:
Difficult.  Most students are understandably generalists who want or need exposure to a lot of variety before settling on their key focus.  In truth, some don't find their focus until after acquiring some professional experience.  There is nothing wrong with demonstrating breadth in one's portfolio.  But lead with your strength and your passion.  Again, if you can't figure it out, then call up that harshest critic mentioned above and ask them.  Build several solid pieces around this strength demonstrating variety in artistic style.  Assuming they are strong enough, let the "breadth" pieces add flavor to your portfolio but let your strength play center stage.

The History Teacher

My brother-in-law.  Yes, an actual history teacher.

The history teacher's portfolio is much like the Scatter Shot -- lots of samples and not a lot of key strengths.  The History Teacher portfolio is unique in that this candidate wants to show you their ENTIRE BACK CATALOG.  I've seen candidates include things they created in high school.  Their intent, naturally, is to show you, the art lead or hiring manager, how far they've come.  Great.  Can I let you in on something?  Other than your friends and parents, no one gives a shit.  Learning and growing is part of professional development and it is assumed that you are better today than you were yesterday.  The person who may hire you wants to know what you can do NOW not what you could do THEN.  And if your NOW is no better than your THEN, your portfolio won't get you anywhere

How to Fix:
Remove the back catalog.  If there is some reason why you think an older image is worth including, it better be fucking amazing.  Keep your portfolio not only to your BEST but also your most recent.  I'll discuss this in greater detail below, but recognize that your portfolio has a shelf life.

The Cactus Bikini

I can't believe I found this image.

Basically, your portfolio is made of the "wrong material."  Now this aspect is subject to some debate by professionals; what I'm giving here is my opinion so I'm going to take a little extra space to explain myself.  Ultimately, I feel that an artist's portfolio should match the company to which they are applying.  For example, if your portfolio is chock full of space marines, it doesn't make sense to send it to the company that only makes fantasy games.  The reverse is also true.

Now, I've met some students who have told me that their professors tell them not to imitate the work of other games or companies.  Allow me to clarify.  Absolutely do not just clone their work; don't try to just create a copy. 

How to Fix:
It is perfectly valid and even recommended that your work appear to be a stylistic match or, even better, build upon the art style that potential employer has already developed. Furthermore, there's one key criteria that will cause most employers to want to set up a phone call after viewing a portfolio. 

In my case, I ask myself this question:  does this person's work match the work we do.  It is even better if there are samples in that portfolio that look like they're ready to be exported into the next game in that franchise.  Every recruiter or hiring manager wants to find people they know can perform.  It's a simple question of confidence level -- the more aligned the portfolio, the greater the confidence.

Final note on "wrong material" is this.  I've seen a handful of portfolios that were just ... strange.  The candidate's work clearly indicated some form of personal fetish or attraction to a subculture.  In these cases, the portfolio not only leans far too heavily in a single direction but is also just plain ... awkward.

The Ancient

A mummy's portfolio?

This is an unfortunate scenario, and one to which both professionals and students alike are subject.  This is the condition under which a portfolio has stagnated and fallen behind.  Ours is a fast-paced, technical industry with new artistic techniques developed every year.  One must keep pace.

Most students' portfolios fail here simply because they come out of school thinking their portfolio is done and then wholly focus on the job hunt.  The job hunt sometimes takes a long time.  In 1998, my job hunt took almost 6 months, to give you a frame of reference.  Aside from the job hunt itself, you have one key goal to complete once you graduate school.  Replace every piece in your portfolio.

How to Fix:
It may sound strange, but this is critical.  Regardless of the setting, you probably spent 2 years or 4 years building the portfolio.  The quality of your skills as well as your artistic eye is likely much stronger upon graduation than it was in any of the preceding years.  Not only that, but sometimes student work is hyper-directed by faculty and your work may be too similar to other students'.  You should look to replace each piece with a better piece - one that demonstrates greater talent and greater personal passion.

A final note:

Don't disregard presentation quality.  It may sound trite, but I've seen lots of promising work that was poorly lit, poorly composed or just organized in such haphazard fashion that the portfolio itself (rather than the images themselves) sunk the candidate.  Presentation quality strongly indicates whether or not the applicant can "bring it all together."

When it comes to portfolios:  a mess is a mess.  If you have one, clean it up.  Don't let it become a portFAILio.

If it were food, make it like this.

Not this.

The Author Analogy

Many years ago, a publishing house realized that it needed to release a new manuscript from one of its then best-selling authors.  Who the author is or what they were working on at the time is unimportant.  What was important is that the publishing house needed the income from this author's next book in order to publish the following year's catalog.  The author in question was a consistent "hit" and ensured that the publishing house could invest in newer (and riskier) manuscripts in the pursuit of new markets/readership.

The publisher already had agents and editors who supported the author.  At this most critical junction however, the publisher elected to hire a Publishing Manager to oversee progress and assist the author directly.  You see, the publishing house was already concerned.  The author had already been late on the previous two milestones, and this trend would push the publishing date well outside of the desired shelf date.  They felt that having a manager directly integrated into the process would help "pick up the pace."

The manager they hired possessed an excellent track record for delivering results by deadline.  And while the manager had almost no publishing experience, he understood the financial ramifications of his efforts, and that suited the publishing house even better.

The author, by comparison, was a little flummoxed by the introduction of a new "writing assistant."  However, he was willing to make accommodations to the publishing house with whom he had experienced years of excellent support and service.

The manager started by leaving the author to write while the manager analyzed the author's previous works -- his back catalog.  He read them all -- and took notes.  The manager cataloged every measurable component he could identify.  How many characters were in the book?  How many locations?  How many plot twists?  How much character dialog?  How much exposition?  How many chapters were in each book?  How many pages were in each chapter?  How many paragraphs per page?  How many words per paragraph?

In the end, he validated what the publishing house had already assumed -- at current pace, the manuscript would not be ready for print and on store shelves by the desired release date.  Upset, the publishing house ordered the manager to begin "managing the writing process."  The release date must not slip.

In response, the manager sat down with the author to lay out the plan for hitting the deadline.  They went over all of the notes and all of the major elements planned for the storyline.  In order to hit their deadline, they had to make cuts.  This was achieved predominantly through targeted scope reduction, much of which was recommended by the manager.

• "Let's drop the love triangle.  Those take an average of 4-6 chapters to fully develop and that will shave time off the schedule."
• "The climax should take place in the same location as the opening scene.  You've already described that setting, so you won't have to waste precious time describing it again."
•  "Near the second act, the protagonist spends a lot of time pondering their relationship with their parents.  It doesn't really advance the story, so we'll put that on hold and add it back in if we finish early."
• "Notes from the publishing house say that this character from your last book was really popular.  We should add someone like that character and drop one of the other tertiary actors."
• "The protagonist's dog doesn't play any significant role until the end when it saves the protagonist's life.  Can we just remove the dog now and save ourselves the trouble of having to write about it for the rest of the book?"

On and on it went.  And with these changes, the author became less excited and less inspired by what they were writing.  Nevertheless, the manager got the schedule "back on track."  The manager was also able to establish a pace-setting goal for the book.  A certain number of paragraphs per hour.  A certain number of pages per day.  A certain number of chapters per week.

The author soldiered on.  Days went by as the author cranked out page after page after page of brief dialog and minimal exposition and periodic character development -- all out of respect for the manager's and publishing house's wishes.  After all, they were paying for the book in the first place.

On time, the manuscript was completed.  It was sent off for publication and hit store shelves on the desired date.  Fans of the author flooded to the bookstores to pick up the latest book.  Despite spectacular initial sales fueled largely by the popularity of the author, the book was roundly derided as the worst book of the year.

The book was rife with shallow characters, a boring plot, uninspiring locales and a stayed and predictable ending.  Critics and fans alike vocally panned the title, which in turn was picked up by multiple media outlets.  A firestorm of equal parts rage and disappointment rained down on the publishing house.  Retail outlets began returning large volumes of books, having been completely unable to sell the large volume of pre-orders they had ordered ahead of time.

As a result, the publishing house was forced to make severe cuts.  The high cost of returned stock resulted in the publisher not recouping the original advance they had given the author.  This loss also resulted in the publishing house being unable to pursue "high risk" manuscripts from new talent.  Likewise, in an effort to save face publicly, the publisher announced that they would not be publishing any further titles from this author.  Their contracts and their prior long-term relationship was terminated.

The author.  Whether they wrote again or not is immaterial.  What is important is that the author's public perception was deeply tarnished and their motivation to produce further creative endeavors was largely absent.  The author would be required to find a new publisher and build a new readership, assuming either of those options would be possible.

The manager.  They were lauded for their success.  The fact that the manuscript was in such a poor state was clearly a failing of the author.  And while the book was not a success, the publishing house was confident that the next big hit would be released soon.  In fact, they would like the manager to meet with this author as soon as possible to ensure that book would be released on time as well....



Sound familiar?




So, where did things go wrong?  I'll tell you.  Too frequently in creative industries, the "creativity" is left out of the planning process.  When overt deconstruction (of processes, of patterns, of components) goes too far, it completely occludes if not minimizes the "spark" of creative enterprise.
The manager might as well have asked the author to type every word in the Oxford Dictionary in order to find out how long it would take to write the book.  Factory line data does not plug into imaginative creation at a 1:1 ratio.

This is a challenge I put before every leader, every manager and every producer in every creative industry.  Understand that creativity is the core of what do, not the mechanical processes that yield the product.  That is why a goal is more relatable than a task.  That is why a vision is more inspiring than a milestone.  That is why an hour spent thinking is sometimes more valuable than 2 hours spent doing.

When you plan - plan for creativity.  Plan for experimentation.  Plan for prototyping.  Plan for failure and then plan again for recovery.

The old adage says hope for the best but plan for the worst.  This doesn't apply to creative enterprise.  For creative enterprise, if you fail to plan for the unexpected (for pure exploration and creativity), then you have created the worst plan.

Networking: Put Some Effort Into It.

Here's something I've been seeing an alarmingly large volume of in recent months.

For the record, I very much like LinkedIn.  I've been working professionally for long enough that I've lost track of a number of coworkers over the years.  LinkedIn provides me an opportunity to keep tabs on past contacts, congratulate them on recent career changes and also to make contact with them again in the future.

I was discussing the topic of LinkedIn with students at Ringling College of Art & Design this past December.  I told them that I was happy to connect with any of them (a group of ~50 students who had shown up to see my presentation) and provide feedback or career guidance.  However, I had a single stipulation:
You must write something other than the standard / default LinkedIn request in the body of your message!

Does that sound too harsh?

Here's the thing.  I openly admit that, without networking, I would not be working in the industry today.  I had a very difficult time finding a job out of school.  My introduction to the games industry came as a result of week-after-week calling sales reps for the major 3d software packages at the time (Discreet, Softimage, Alias|wavefront -- damn, just dated myself there!)  I had to be persistent, but I built solid connections which in turn resulted in them pointing me towards a job opening.

The reason I despise the default LinkedIn request is that it represents the basest, lowest common denominator.  In my mind, it signals the intent to connect, but the capacity to only put in the minimum required effort.

There are people for whom I make allowances, however.  Due to my frequent speaking and face-to-face networking at GDC, I never can remember who I have and who I have not met in the past.  Therefore, I'm willing to forgive working professionals in the same way that I would accept such a message from past colleagues.  I'm also equally guilty with not consistently sending an appropriate message within this group....

However, if I know I don't know you, then don't expect a response from me.  Not with a default greeting.  And this goes double for you students out there. 

Here's the thing to remember:  relationships take effort.  If we don't know each other yet, that's fine.  All it takes is for you to explain why you want to connect or how you came across my contact information.  My career was built on networking and I like affording others the same consideration that I received.

You just can't make do with the default introduction.  It makes you look lazy.  It makes you look insincere.  And it makes me hit the IGNORE button immediately.

For the record, every student from Ringling took my advice and sent me a personal greeting.  I connected with every one of them.  Everyone.  Well.  All but one.  :)

2013 Resolutions

A little late, I know...

To kick off the new year, I wanted to start with a few resolutions which I hope to achieve with the blog in 2013.

More regularity.

I came close to my once-a-month goal for posting this past year, but missed a number of deadlines.  In fact, I completely missed the month of December.  Part of this is undoubtedly due to to lapses in commitment.  However, another component was simply losing interest in some of the topics I was writing about.  This leads me to my next resolution.

More Variety.

My past posts were focused almost wholly on management and leadership topics.  This year, I'd like to branch out and talk more about art direction and critique.  I'd like to spend some time writing about the games I'm playing and also my impressions of where the succeed and where they struggle.  Leadership issues will still play an important part in this blog, but I feel that more topical variety will bring improvements ... And also keep me engaged on a more regular basis.

Some shorter posts

You may have noticed that I tend to ramble on in my posts, so I want to try a few this year with a very succinct focus or commentary.  However, when I think of that, I can't help but be reminded of.... zzzzzz.  As I said, shorter.

More bad analogies.

I live for them.  In fact, it will be part of an upcoming post -- an article I started writing last year but haven't invested the time to finish.

See you again soon.  Happy New Year to you all.

Go Learn Something!!!

I'll keep this one short.

If you accept the premise that personal development is achieved through a persistent state of learning, then you must accept that continuing to do things the same way (especially for extended periods of time) will stagnate personal development.  I crashed face-first into this only a few weeks ago when a coworker of mine (Helder Pinto) was nice enough to point out that I was doing something the slow way.

As a lead/manager/director, I've spent several years crafting documentation for internal teams, outsourcers and (in the past) tutorials for the public at large.  As all of them have been largely art-centric, I have always been dependent on Alt+PrntScr to capture an image and then taking that capture into Photoshop for editing.

Imagine my stunned silence when Helder showed me the "Snipping Tool" in Windows.  Others then kindly pointed out other software that achieves similar results.  My first thought?  Damn, I'm stupid (and old.)  My second thought?  Awesome.  I just got better at something.  I have to share this with someone.

Thinking that, if I didn't know this tool, there were bound to be some other developers around me who didn't know it.  You know what I found?  I was right!  There were quite a few senior artists and leads who didn't even know about the tool.  Some did.  But, not everyone.  Ironically, this is how people improve -- by sharing knowledge.

So, here's my chance to pay (a simple) one forward.  I used to run semi-regular Photoshop guru sessions with groups of artists in which everyone who share some tip or some technique.  Every year, there would always be at least one person who didn't know about the "New Window" function in Photoshop.

She short explanation is that the new windows allows you to maintain a zoomed-out view of your image in one window as you perform any detailed work in another zoomed-in window.  This is great for both concept development as well as texture creation.

The irony of this example is that Snipping Tool didn't work here.  Snipping Tool would cause a defocus and thus hide the menus I was trying to show.  Proof that, even when learning new techniques, that doesn't automatically mean the old ones are defunct.

Lesson:  Stop doing what you're doing, and Go Learn Something!

Above My Paygrade

In retrospect, I've probably heard that phrase a few too many times -- and in situations where it didn't warrant use.

In rare instances, I have also said this.  And, having contemplated the meaning in greater depth, that doesn't make me proud.

For those readers who may not be familiar with the phrase, it's most commonly used to indicate a decision or responsibility (and occasionally knowledge) that lie with a more seasoned staff member, a senior employee, lead or director.

Well, clearly someone else is making all the choices here....

I've also heard it used as an expression of frustration. In those instances, it occurs when a person doesn't agree with a choice or direction -- it's akin to saying, "Well, if I were in control, this is how things would change."

Ultimately, it's a statement of abdication.
Abdication of responsibility.
Abdication of influence.

Hit it.

This is what has caused me to ponder the phrase in greater detail. As I said before, I've said it in the past too. When I think back on those times, I can't help but ask myself the following question:

• Did the situation which triggered the statement get any better in light of my abdication?  Honestly, the answer is sometimes yes, and more often no.

In the positive case, did I influence the outcome. No.  I can take no credit for having improved the situation for myself or my coworkers.
In the negative case, did I influence the outcome. Yes.

Yes. Considering that the phrase is most regularly heard in situations where the speaker doesn't agree with something -- some wrongdoing -- it is rather ironically also a statement of complicity Whether you recognize it or not, electing to abdicate your influence (on the team, the project, or on the company) will only perpetuate the problem -- and potentially institutionalize it.

Get it?

This is going to be a difficult idea for some to accept. The counter argument, naturally, is "I'm not responsible for fixing this problem," or "That's not my job," or "No one is paid to listen to me."

If this sounds like someone you know, please allow me to point out the problem. This person has confabulated influence with authority.

Do you see the difference?

Leadership structure is about authority. Just because you do not have the authority to make the final decision, does NOT mean you should abdicate your influence. Authority has to reside with a select few -- as do the consequences of their choices.  Influence, by comparison, is open to all.  In the image above, the graphic on the left demonstrates authority, but not a communication structure (in a healthy organization, anyway.)  The graphic on the right demonstrates a communication network, where influence is represented by those nodes with the most connections -- the ability to influence other nodes.

So, what do I say to the person who says, "That's above my pay grade" to express his or her lack of authority. Fair enough, I say.

Sometimes, I feel like this too.

But it is only "fair" if that person has reasonably expressed their influence. Just because you express your influence doesn't mean you'll necessarily see the results you wanted. After all, accepting the authority of others has little to do with influence, and lots to do with professional maturity.

Calm the fuck down already.

This is a type of influence.  Good leaders don't respond to it.

So, why do I keep using the phrase influence?

Every employer in the game industry understands this term. They may use slightly different words -- influence, impact, clout, respect, etc. I promise you that every studio uses it when comparing employees -- and certainly when identifying those for career advancement. It is quite simply one of the most significant attributes or effective leaders.

It's mildly ironic then, that someone would identify a potential problem. Rather than attacking the problem directly, he or she then uses this phrase to abdicate influence. Naturally, their lack of influence or impact on the issue consequently diminishes their career progress.  This, in turn, results in them not having the authority to make such decisions in the future.  And the circle begins again.

Sucks, right?  Confusing, too.

So,where am I going with this? In the end, I hope each reader will recognize the power of his or her influence. Even lacking authority, each of us are professionals and have the responsibility to improve our work environment. It is only by first having influence that we then gain authority -- that is the golden career path.

Yeah, Eddie thinks this is a lame graphic choice too.

You want to know what I think? I think you should listen for this phrase in the days, weeks or months to come. If you hear a less-experienced employee say this, offer them some advice -- express your influence. However, if you hear one of your peers say this --

Alert!

Pay Attention! This person may have just highlighted a problem.  Not just a problem, but an opportunity for you -- and for your career.  Not a guarantee, but a good opportunity

Some may yet say that they can't express their influence. That speaking out gets them in trouble. That they don't feel safe.

Those of you who work in unhealthy organizations are probably right.  You should do something about that.  I also suspect that there are others who would use this excuse to avoid the fact that they lack the skill to manage their influence -- that they lack the professionalism or maturity to address an issue in a productive and respectful manner.

Influential or not, don't be that person.

Talk about your asshats....

Good Developer Traits: Impatience ... Paid in Time

In a recent conversation with a coworker at Blizzard, we talked about what makes a "good developer."  It was an interesting topic, and I thought one worthy of sharing.  To be clear, we weren't talking about "good artists."  Nor were we talking about good programmers.  Nor good game designers.  Nor producers, managers, directors, etc.  Specifically, we keyed on the concept of a "good game developer."

In the conversation, we discussed a variety of factors -- enough to warrant whole series on the subject.  This first post is about Impatience.  That point in a project where most developers arrive (mentally), where speed is of the essence -- and good judgment is sacrificed.  Ultimately, the cost of such impatience is paid in Time.

This is a picture of my grandfather.  He led an interesting life, and held down many jobs over the years.  His last career, prior to retiring, was a painter.  Not the fine arts.  He was a professional painter -- homes, businesses, schools and the like.  That was his profession.  He was a good painter.

This came to mind as the result of a home improvement project where I repainted the back patio "cover" on our new home in California.  I painted it, for sure.  I was painting.  However, this does not make me a good painter.  Multiple reasons.  The quality of craftsmanship is in the "amateur" category.  I missed a number of spots and left an unfortunate number of uneven areas.  It also took me a ridiculous amount of time to complete the job.  Lastly, and most importantly, I committed a horrible error in the very final stages.

With less than 10 feet to go on the few remaining boards, I got impatient.  I didn't ensure that the paint tray was adequately secured to the ladder before moving the ladder.  You can probably see where this is headed.  Shortly after moving the ladder, I was back to painting and a careless jostle caused the paint tray to slip loose from the ladder..  I should also mention that I had recently refilled the tray -- so, it was nearly full.  Now, imagine a nearly full tray of paint falling approx. 6 feet off a ladder and the resultant impact spray.  In that instant, I proved the tagline from Alien inaccurate, as my screamed expletive was most certainly heard in space.

My error -- my impatience -- carried a very real cost in Time.

With more patience.  With more care.  In fact, with more understanding of the complete job of a painter, this whole incident would have been avoided.  Rather than completing my job in less than 10 minutes, my impatience resulted in me pressure-spraying around my backyard for at least another two hours.  Sound familiar?

That day, I learned that I was not a painter.

"You have insulted the memory of my l33t painting skillz, Grandson!"

So, how does this tie in to game development?  Let me ask you this: how many people have you known who have lost an hour's worth of work or more?  Other than yourself, I mean.  Regardless of the reasons, it happens.  It happens a lot.  Here are some prime examples.

• Failure to save a Max/Maya/Photoshop file for an extended period of time.  Crash.
• Failure to submit files to an asset management depot.  Corruption.
• Working locally.  Crash or Corruption.  Computer death.
• Virus outbreak.  Widespread loss.

I have either witnessed or personally experienced each of these incidents.  As a matter of fact, I wager that most developers have It is often by having these things happen to us that we learn patience.  We learn (the hard way) that craftsmanship means caring as much for the time involved as for the final product.

My coworker and I postulated that good artists/programmers/designers who fail to recognize this craftsmanship will struggle to become "good developers."  For example, I once worked with an artist who lost over a week's worth of work by failing to submit his file(s) to Perforce on a regular basis.  I felt bad for him.  That is, until the same thing happened to him again several months later.  Rarely does that lesson need repeating -- and yet, for some it does.

The simple truth is that a good game developer recognizes that Time is the most critical resource.  For young developers, this is often mistakenly interpreted as working lots of overtime or cranking through your work as quickly as possible (even though these approaches are prone to inefficiency and waste). 

Seasoned developers recognize that Time is to respected, is to protected and is to be traded cautiously -- that one's time should be used effectively and that preserving invested time (by archival or incremental saves) is how you become a "good developer."

That, and learning from your mistakes.