Kitchen Remodeling as Computation

I once had an opportunity to observe a kitchen remodel from start to finish, interacting with the general contractor who was heading up the remodel along the way.  And I must say, if you consider yourself to be a competent contractor or handyman and are looking for a career change, all I can say is...consider computer science.

In my limited sample of one well-executed kitchen remodel, I submit that the knowledge and skill set that makes one excel in managing a kitchen remodel are not so different from those required to excel in computer science.  While the generated artifacts are different — cabinets, plumbing, and countertops as opposed to applications, data structures, and algorithms — the thought processes and mindsets toward making high-quality versions of these artifacts are very similar in the two endeavors.  Heck, the term “architecture” is meaningful, and even congruent, in both areas.  That’s got to count for something, right?

As the contractor walked me through what he was doing — start with setting appliances aside, demolish the old kitchen, go on to rough electrical and plumbing, mount the cabinets, [almost] finish the electrical (but not the plumbing), measure out the countertops, paint the area, install the countertops, install the sink, reinstall appliances (or install new ones), and finally finish electrical and plumbing, all with periodic cleanup at appropriate in-between periods — I found that everything made sense, and fell into place in much the same way that variables, subroutines, objects, and modules connect and build upon each other to form useful (and reusable) software.  Indeed, as he explained what was going on (and why), I found that he was using many of the same concepts that computer scientists use in designing, studying, and choosing among algorithms:

• Priorities: “We need to relocate the refrigerator first so that food storage is disrupted for the least amount of time.”


• Pre- and post-conditions: “I can’t start the cabinets until we’ve settled the rough electrical and plumbing, since the cabinets might get in the way.”  “The cabinets aren’t right until they’re completely plumb and level from end to end.”


• Fault tolerance: “It doesn’t make sense to order the countertops until the cabinets are completely laid out — that’s the only time that we’ll know the exact dimensions of the counter surface, since all kinds of adjustments and tweaks might happen during installation.”


• Scheduling/load balancing/optimization: “There’s no rush to pick out the sink or install the glass panes in the cabinet doors, since you can do that while everything else is going on with plenty of time to spare.”


• Efficiency: “If we cut the cabinet skin in this way, we’ll be able to use more of it to cover off these areas, with the fewest gaps.”


• Tradeoffs: “I can make that adjustment if you’d like, but it will delay this next step and cost a little more money.”


• Side effects: “While we can move the refrigerator, we can’t move the valve that feeds the ice maker. So we’ll need to shift these cabinets a little so that they can accommodate a connector between the fridge and the valve.“


• Constraints: “The countertop can only go this far through the kitchen pass-through, because the material won’t be strong enough to support itself past that.”

The list goes on — and every step of the way, I saw what was going on and why, and even though one might wish that things would go faster, or that some decisions were easier, I couldn’t help but appreciate how the big picture, and all of the factors involved, really compelled the work to proceed in a certain way.  The contractor might even have been slightly surprised at my demeanor, as he started telling me horror stories of how other jobs got derailed due to unreasonable demands or fickle decision-making.

In the end, it came down to one thing — we were thinking about the task and its components in very much the same way.  Thus, a good contractor would make a good computer scientist.  And, if a computer scientist somehow learned to deal with a nail gun, circular saw, and plumber’s dope, then that computer scientist might make a good contractor!  :)

Let’s take it a step further, in fact — for what endeavors or fields would considerations like those listed above (and numerous others from the computer science realm) not be useful at all?  Of course, I may be biased, but I think one can make a pretty strong case that almost every facet of the human experience would benefit from some kind of computational proficiency — and I mean “computational” in the general computer science sense, not just the numeric manipulation that most folks would associate with the term.  In the end, wasn’t the contractor really “computing” a new kitchen, based on the “input” provided by the homeowner?

A music professor once told me that a quality shared by all good music, regardless of genre, was that it was “logically compelling.”  He didn’t mean that good music was mechanical or overly structured; he meant that good music always seems like it must go to a particular place, and no other destination seems like it would do.  This is what makes pop songs “catchy,” and what gives arrangements an excellent “hook” — when you hear them, the sounds and silences that come before seem destined only to lead to the sounds and silences that come after; anything else would be wrong, or else just not-as-great.

The notion of “logically compelling” certainly resonates with me regarding good software design, both internal (the code’s structure) and external (the user interface).  On both counts, high-quality designs “compel” that code be written in a certain way or that a user’s intuition match what a user interface presents — all because factors such as priorities, pre- and post-conditions, fault tolerance, optimization, tradeoffs, constraints, and other core elements of computation are brought to bear upon a situation.

And now, after observing a kitchen remodel up close, I would say that a well-executed kitchen remodel is also “logically compelling.”  Indeed, if everybody knew a little computer science, how many more day-to-day human activities would share that property — a sensible result due to sensible decisions made based on sensible reasons, with sensible (and acceptable) compromises.  Would you trade some extra time and resources off for that mid-life adjustment?  Or better yet, start ’em young.  After all, I don’t know of anyone who doesn’t appreciate a brand-spanking-new kitchen.  :)