Confessions of a Disgraced Former Microsoft MVP

In the interests of full disclosure, I was a Microsoft MVP for 7 years. My tenure as an MVP ended in March 2023 due to an unspecified code of conduct violation.

First, let me acknowledge that despite anything that I might say, there is a particular swath of readers who will no doubt take this article to be nothing but "sour grapes". That's perfectly understandable and since I can't control anyone's reaction to my words, I'm simply not going to worry about it. That said, let me assure you that I harbor no ill will towards the Microsoft MVP program, its administrators or Microsoft in general. My 7+ year experience in the Microsoft MVP program was an interesting experience and my exit truly one of the funniest things that has ever happened to me personally.

Second, I want to stress that this article is written from my perspective and my perspective alone. Everyone will have their own unique perspective on this subject and I in no way want to even suggest that my perspective is the only one or even the right one. This is simply about my perspective. I would encourage others to share their perspectives.

To understand my perspective, there are a few things that you need to understand about me. The first thing you need to understand about me is that I have a rather prominent anti-authority streak. Not an outright disdain of people in authority but more of an innate distrust of those in authority. Perhaps this might seem odd given that I am the son of an Ohio State Highway Patrol officer, but my anti-authoritarian streak manifested itself early on and really solidified itself around the age of 16.

There is actually one particular day that I remember quite well that perhaps best explains my take on authority. You see, when I was in high school, I worked as a lifeguard during the summer. One place I worked at was a campground in a small town called Oceola, Ohio. They had a pond there for the campers to swim in. So, one day I'm sitting there in my lifeguard chair and some adults are horsing around, as in literally playing horse, which is against the rules. I blow my little whistle and admonish them, and they desist.

That's when it hit me. Here I am some snot-nosed 16-year-old admonishing these 40-year-old adults and they inexplicably listen to me. Why? Because I have a little whistle and a shirt that says "Lifeguard". I've been placed in a position of authority when the reality is that I am 16 years old and really don't have a clue about pretty much anything.

What I learned from that is a healthy distrust of authority. It might be true that someone with authority earned that authority but it's also just as likely that they were simply placed in a position of authority with no real regard for whether or not that authority was really warranted. The bottom line is that I simply don't accept what authority figures say at face value, I always question and anyone in authority always has to prove to me that they are deserving.

The second thing that you need to know about me is that I am fiercely, stupidly independent. Perhaps this is sort of obvious from being anti-authority, but it extends further than that. You see, I have a visceral dislike for anything that even hints at "cliquey" or, in general, anything that attempts to separate people into "haves" and "have nots", "proper society" versus the bourgeoisie. I find such things snobby, shallow, controlling and generally offensive. Sure, I played rugby in college, but it was a club sport, not an official sport. Effectively a motley crew of misfits and rebels. Perfect. But something like a fraternity? Not on your life. Gag.

Alright, a few last things about me. One, I am brutally honest and tend to speak my mind even to my own detriment. Two, as you might have surmised from the title of this article, I pretty much don't take most things too seriously, including myself. Trust me, those who know me best complain that everything is a joke to me. That's because it kind of is. There are limits, but those limits are far outside just about anyone else's. In fact, I traveled from Columbus, Ohio to Seattle, Washington for the primary purpose of getting the photo for this blog article. If you think that's extreme, you have no idea the lengths to which I'll go for a good joke. Oh, and last thing, I hate titles. Call me Chief Ditch Digger for all I care.

OK then, you might be asking yourself how in the world an anti-authority, anti-control, anti-group, anti-exclusivity, anti-serious, anti-title individual winds up in an ultra-exclusive "club" like the Microsoft MVP program? That's a fair question. It's even more fair considering that when I was in my 20's I expressly declined an offer from a Microsoft employee to nominate me as a Microsoft MVP.

You see, I was very active in the Microsoft Exchange listserv at the time as I was engineering a global deployment of Microsoft Exchange 4.0. I was also pretty critical of the software, particularly its X500 addressing scheme as any idiot knew that SMTP addressing was the de facto standard even at that time and the X500 addressing scheme was a complete pain because it meant you couldn't even move users between servers without jumping through hoops or you broke email replies. Trust me though, there were lots of other problems with Exchange 4.0.

To 20-year-old me the whole MVP program reeked of everything I despised, authority, control, exclusivity, groupthink. I wanted no part of it. Honestly, I looked at it as an attempt to bring me under the thumb of Microsoft and control my criticisms of the product. 20-year-old me wasn't having it.

Now, I could easily explain away my time as a Microsoft MVP as a whim, a lark or even a brief moment of insanity. But that's not what it was. It was more of a social experiment on myself. I'm a firm believer that to grow as an individual it is important to sometimes push yourself into areas where you are not comfortable. So, I decided to push myself outside of my comfort zone and see what happened.

Alright, so what did I learn? Well, I learned that is very easy to be taken in with the allure of being part of some super-exclusive club. You can see this in some of my early blog posts, like Dealing with Measure Totals. There I tacitly endorse how measure totals work in tables and matrix visuals in Power BI. I never felt that way. I always thought the way they worked was unforgivably stupid. But I felt obligated to "toe the official line", that totals were perfectly reasonable and that it was the user's fault that they got an unexpected result. BS. But the need to comply and obey is compelling and insidious. Very 1984.

In the end though, I learned that 20-year-old me was right all along. In modern terms, social dominance theory (SDT) essentially describes every group. If you don't know, look it up. Think high school, you have the popular kids and the rabble. Again, there are some fine MVP's and administrators and my purpose here is not to tear down the program. Suffice to say, it wasn't really my cup of tea. Then again, neither was high school quite honestly. But it might be someone else's and during my tenure I nominated a number of people that wanted to apply. Pretty certain all of them succeeded.

As I have stated, my purpose here is not to disparage the Microsoft MVP program, plenty of other people have done that and more here, here, here and, oof, especially here. I mean, yikes! However, there is one burning question that I returned to again and again throughout my tenure as an MVP. Why did the MVP program truly exist? What was its purpose and what did Microsoft really get from its investment in the program? I was really interested in these kinds of questions.

Ostensibly, Microsoft presents the MVP program as an "award" for community members that actively participate in helping others learn about their products and what Microsoft gets in return is early feedback on new features and functionality. But how likely is it that this marketing blurb about the wholly altruistic purpose for the MVP program's existence represents the entire story?

Look at it this way, just recently Microsoft went through multiple waves of deep cost reductions. That's a nice way of saying layoffs. Thousands of layoffs and yet the MVP program remains untouched. The MVP award team is 16 people. That alone is millions of dollars in overhead costs and that doesn't even include any of the swag, meetings, conferences (virtual or otherwise), and any other overhead. Plus, after all those cuts they return to an in-person MVP Summit? All that time, money and effort for some feedback on products? Really? You'd have to be incredibly naive to believe that what is likely tens of millions of dollars a year is worth just that.

So, what do I think is the rest of the story you might ask? Well, 20-year-old me and Foucault's theory of power would say that it's really very simple. Like pretty much everything in life it comes down to power and control. Think about it. Microsoft gets to hand pick the individuals to promote as authorities on their products. They then slap golden handcuffs of benefits on those individuals and dictate that they either play by the rules and toe the party line or lose their perks and "prestige". It's simply a way to control the narrative and public perception of their products. Abide by their code of conduct and non-disclosure agreement or you are a "nobody" once again. It's really incredibly arrogant, pretentious, snobby, and kind of gross. While at one point the MVP program might have been completely altruistic, Foucaultian theory suggests such groups become corrupt unless there exists accountability, transparency and democracy. Draw your own conclusions regarding just how much of those three factors exist.

So, short form, anoint people who are "special", control them, promote groupthink, and then have them do your bidding. Even rely on this army of minions to the point where you don't properly maintain your product. There are other terms for that kind of thing. Look, trust me, it's easy to get suckered into the trap. And also trust me that plenty of people are 100% invested in maintaining their MVP status at any cost. Believe me, I get it. It's incredibly important to some people, especially the independents.

But, what happened, where did I go wrong? Well, in my opinion I didn't go wrong, I went right. I finally found my voice again after losing it. I started to speak my mind and call things like I saw them and joke around and *gasp* just be myself. And of course, who I truly am was never a fit for an exclusive, cliquey group that defined the have's and have nots in life, defined who was to be listened to and who should be shunned. And who I truly am was never going to conform to authoritarian control of my thoughts and beliefs. I'm simply not internally wired to fit neatly into any kind of social hierarchy or system.

At the end of the day, I'm glad I participated in the Microsoft MVP program. I met some fine folks, and I helped some people realize their goal of becoming a Microsoft MVP. It was an interesting experience far outside of my comfort zone and I learned a lot about myself. I got to exit, in my opinion, in the most epic and hilarious way possible. But I wouldn't do it again on a bet. Conveniently, given that I have a code of conduct violation strike (still to this day unspecified), I won't be tempted by the MVP Reconnect Program. Thank freaking God.

Seriously though, an unspecified code of conduct violation when that code of conduct includes child pornography, bestiality and incest? Super unfair and kind of slanderous. But, again, that's part of the control. Control through fear. Most people would be severely shaken by the thought of the potential social damage that might be caused if they were tacitly accused of such crimes. I'm not most people. The reality is that what the code of conduct really means is that Microsoft can purge you simply because they don't like you because they never have to actually tell you the reason or the specific violation. Simple as that. And that's OK, because we all know that Microsoft Hates Greg.

The road to redemption is a long and arduous journey. It took me 7 long years to traverse it, but I finally feel like I've reached the end.