Negative Testing: Learning to test saying “no”

It's an interesting thing, growing up. Maturing. There are a ton of frameworks around scaling and maturing processes and I find the biggest maturity indicator for myself (right now) is learning to say no, which feels backwards given no is one of the first thing you learn in life.

My son is now 16 months old and he's had the head shake down for a long time. He knows what he does not want even if he does not know heights are dangerous.

I was accepted to speak at STARWest 2026 and I had to say no.

The submission was one of my various tests in my whirlwind of “try everything and see what sticks”. Or what I tell myself is me just throwing things out there, haphazardly. I'm realizing more and more, as I track my patterns, there's a method to the madness, even if no one can understand the madness but me.

I wanted to speak when I applied. An idea popped into my head. Why not? Put yourself out there, Alison. Be a conference speaker. Maybe you look impressive and someone mentions you to another someone who asks you for advice and boom, consulting opportunities. Either way, definitely a chance to grow in resilience, because here’s public speaking with the added thrill that maybe no one shows up and you get to internalize that as data.

I wanted to speak when I accepted it, telling myself all about how it was a great opportunity to push myself. And, come on, here it was, a ready made excuse to go to Disneyland in a two-for-one deal. I look impressive talking at a conference and my daughter can meet Mickey Mouse. Win-win and I love just efficiency.

My STARWest talk was (unsurprisingly) going to be about using QA frameworks for debugging life's messy systems (aka, this newsletter in a presentation form and more authoritative on claims because conference-style Alison).

One of the first essays I wrote when I had this other random idea to start writing about life as a quality program (aka this newsletter) was around the Test Pyramid. And wouldn't you know it, I used Disneyland as an example in it. I would say to myself, How serendipitous! Isn't it a sign? Here it is, finally all coming together and all connected. Talk about validation.

I wanted to speak. I accepted the opportunity. And I withdrew myself last week which I hope means I'm learning something from all this testing finally.

Because here it was—a clear and verifiable way to validate myself. Right there. I could say, look at me! The first time I ever submitted to a conference and it was accepted! (We can just ignore the part where it doesn't mean anyone would have shown up, thanks.)

And here I was, getting into stressed mode again, pressuring myself again, trying to fit everything in all at once. Again.

I have a tendency to want everything yesterday while I'm already looking at tomorrow, which usually leaves me missing out on today. And I wonder a lot if it's just me that does that. (When I'm really feeling crazy I believe I am alone in that tendency, but I digress because) I really can see more clearly now. Saying no to this is proof I can see the pressure I'm putting on myself. (Yes, half the time I wonder if the test is flaky or I am still, but I am catching it.)

My daughter starts school in two weeks. My son won't stop running everywhere and face plants 43% of the time. I'm a QA director for one of the largest credit union's in the country. I'm actively querying a picture book series. I wrote a 50k crappy first draft of a novel. I've been working on a silly app idea to experiment more with AI workflows (that involves weather because my daughter is an “expert meteorologist”). I most recently started a new learning journey on indexing. (Did you know that people are paid to write back-of-book indexes? This concept completely fascinates me.)

These are not all of my crazy whirlwind ventures. I put a lot out there all at once. Shots in the dark I call them.

I knew some things would stick. Probability wise, they'd have to. But, what about if multiple things stick?

I usually say yes because I said yes in the first place for a reason. I shot the shot because part of me wants it. Somewhere it fits into this idea and vision I have of what life could be, who I could be. I want to say yes.

And so, if I can't do it, I classify it as a fail. I mean, here's your chance! If you don't take it, it might never come again. Not to mention if you say no, how ungrateful, what a waste, what a failure.

The honest truth: I did not believe I would be accepted. I didn't. It was meant to be a shot in the dark. So when my talk was accepted, I was excited. Because, validation! Approval on my idea! I didn't think I'd be accepted so I did not think about my bandwidth prior to submitting.

My inner critic is great at reframing a pass as a fail.

One night I was alone stressing about the logistics of Disneyland with two kids while I had to be away as super professional QA boss lady. And then I thought about going alone to the conference so I stressed about how guilty and pointless it would be if I didn't take them, it's freaking Disneyland. And then I stressed again about taking them and missing out on the fun while I was alone in a room talking to myself about debugging life's messy systems. And then I stressed about how it would be obvious I'm a fraud because look at my messy house. And then I snapped at my daughter about putting her very numerous notebooks ("for weather investigation") away because the house was a mess. Which obviously made me then feel bad so I stressed about how I hadn't done enough on my personal project inspired by her new fascination with weather. Which of course led to me stressing about numerous other things that are not at all important.

I was just stressing myself out. Because I didn't want to say no, especially after having said yes.

It is not the right time for me to speak at STARWest. Maybe it never will be. Public speaking is uncomfortable. Yet, there's a part of me that totally wants to do it. I want to challenge myself. I want to see if I can do it like all those other people. I want to try and network, sell myself more, try out Conference Alison next to Enterprise Alison. Experiment.

But Conference Alison is not this year's need. Not with where my kids are at in life and not with where I am either.

I won't lie, I really like that I know I can do it—submit a proposal and get accepted. I enjoy the validation. Part of me needs it for that achievement drive that doesn't know how to shut off and stop looking outward.

But what I really like most of all is that my pattern of over-commiting and then calling myself a failure because something, inevitably, doesn't happen "as planned" is more testable—now that I think to test it.

It's easier to catch if I actually review the facts. Objectively, I am very busy right now. Do you need me to repeat my list? I can add more, promise. What I struggle more with is this fact: objectively, I can not be busy and still be successful.

Blows my mind.

I'm learning that I have to say no more and I did see a key difference in no as a kid vs no as an adult.

My son, he screams and quite violently shakes his head no to being put down. That's it. He's nearly 30 pounds, I have to put him down, but he will vehemently say no. It's not nuanced.

Wants mom, not pack-n-play. Wants milk, not water. Wants to put shopping cart buckle in mouth, not be told that's disgusting. Cries no to get his way (which he gets minus the buckle because that's gross.) Pretty cut and dry.

Life as you grow up is very nuanced. I want so many things. And now I'm getting better at being specific with what I want. Because I really can't have it all. Trying makes me angry, resentful, and unhappy with what I already have.

My son's no is instinct. Mine has to be a decision.

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Navigating the messy system called “Life on planet Earth”? Come test with me. I write about life as a working parent and recovering perfectionist from a tech lens.

Deploys are irregular because I never know what system will crash next.

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