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People who are getting on a bit in years (like me), like to discuss how nothing is like it was anymore. In that line of conversation, there is a fine distinction between outright complaining and a potentially useful analysis of changes in society and how these changes impact the things that are happening. Last week, during a dinner with my former manager at a big tech company (who is also past the target age for an AARP membership), we started discussing how we got into the field, how that was different from the situation people find themselves in today, and what the consequences of that are.
When I started getting interested in computers, everything was an uphill battle in all directions: Computers were scarce, they were underpowered, and they were expensive. There was little information available and what was available was difficult to get and, again, expensive. I regularly bought computer magazines and tried to get my hands on any and all books that discussed computers and programming. It was also a very lonely endeavor, as I knew almost nobody who knew anything about computers.
Then, when I went to college, access to computers, books, and people improved significantly, but it was still not a panacea. For instance, during my first two years at college, we had to reserve time slots to use the terminals of our school’s mini-computer. Bookings were for 30 minutes time slots you could have at most three slots outstanding. Yes, you read that right, we could have a max of 1 1⁄2 hours of terminal time reserved up front! When that time was spent, you had to go find the reservation terminal and then you could book another 1 1⁄2 hours, subject to availability. In these circumstances, when you get to sit down in front of the terminal, you better know what you are going to type in.
Additionally, the Pascal and COBOL compilers ran on a batch system overnight, so you had to carefully plan a ½ hour slot for the next day to see if your program had compiled, and if it hadn’t, make any corrections and resubmit, so that you could get another attempt at maybe running it the day thereafter. As you can imagine, this system did not do wonders for velocity and there was a bonus for getting your work in early in the trimester.
To make matters worse, whenever the college IT department was faced with a low free disk space situation, they ran a program called “DailyReport” which removed “temporary files” from the disk. Unfortunately, “DailyReport” considered student’s binaries temporary files, because they could be recreated from the sources. On at least one occasion, I logged on in the morning to find that my compilation had succeeded at 2am but that DailyReport had come round at 4am to remove my binary. Try submitting your code for a software engineering class on time under these circumstances!
All of that hassle was to get a professional qualification for a job that didn’t even pay that well. It wasn’t bad, but it was not “doctor or lawyer” good. I have written about this before, but when I graduated, I could maybe look forward to a comfortable middle class existence. As a matter of fact, in my first job, my yearly income was so low that I qualified for healthcare under the state’s social health fund plans. Nothing wrong with that, I guess about 75% of the country earned under the threshold for the funds, but it just goes to show that nobody, not even me, thought I was heading for a cushy tech job.
There are some consequences to this state of affairs. First of all, in that environment, only people who really (and I mean really really) like toying with computers get into the field. It’s not just that coding wasn’t cool yet; it was actually difficult and cumbersome. Only people with a deep interest in the subject matter and with lots of passion studied computer science and they had to struggle mightily to become any good at it. But, good they typically became, because: Pressure makes diamonds.
Another consequence of this story is that, tech skills being rare, it was very easy to let it go to your head.
In the small village I grew up in, I knew literally nobody who was into technology. That’s quite lonely as it means that you have nobody to talk to about your passion and it doesn’t make you very popular either. But it also makes you think you might be a wizard. Myths and legends are full of wizards and they are always solitary figures that are holed up somewhere and doing things that nobody understands while speaking strange languages. I was a solitary figure that was holed up in my room all day doing things that nobody understood in strange languages, so I thought I was a wizard. Stands to reason.
This feeling persisted into college. Sure, there were more people there, but in the meantime computer science had become somewhat hip and so I had a fair amount of fellow students (especially at the start of the first year) who did not have my deep pre-college experience hacking with computers. Fortunately, a handful of them did and we hung out together, because it is expected for wizards to form a conventicle, especially in wizard school (forming our own little pre-HP Ravenclaw).
Most of the rest did not make it very far in college. We started the first year with 220 students and four years later, about 60 would graduate. During the introductory program, the professors helpfully said: “Look left and right of you, only one of you will be here next year. Even then, of the people who graduated in the same year as me, I would trust approximately a quarter of them to touch a computer that I care about.
The problem with feeling you are a wizard is that it can lead to arrogance. Being in the possession of secret knowledge and arcane spells, I would look down on the muggles who were struggling to set their VCR’s clock to adapt to daylight savings time or who were trying to tame the dragon of WordPerfect without knowing the incantations and wand movements required to do so.
One day, a couple of guests came in to dine in our restaurant. They were obviously exhausted and my mother asked what was going on. They explained that they ran a small bookkeeping firm and they had just bought their first computer. For the whole day, they had been trying to set it up, install some software, and make it print. My mother graciously offered the services of the local wizard (me). Next day, I went over there and did the needful, showing off my mastery of the arcane “MODE 9600,N,8,1” and the contents of CONFIG.SYS.
Until I started working, I really did not meet anyone who knew more about computers than I did. Not even the college professors. However, when I did start working, I soon found myself surrounded by real wizards who knew much more than I did. This was a humbling experience. It’s not just that they knew and understood things I didn’t know and understand, they knew and understood so much more that I feared I might never catch up…
This is of course the young person’s underestimation of the value of time. Time heals all wounds and it affords compound interest (in both money and knowledge). Steadily grinding over a period of time does wonders.
After my first job, I kept finding people who were much smarter and more knowledgeable than me and I started to thoroughly enjoy their presence. At almost every company or contract, I found people, often older than me, who had knowledge and experience that I didn’t have. Fortunately, I had never become so full of myself that I resented meeting these people. It also didn’t break any fundamental feelings of superiority because, being Dutch, I really didn’t have these to begin with; all things considered, feeling like a wizard was a really thin layer of veneer.
Holland is the country where people say: “If you behave like a normal person, you are already crazy enough.” Dutch parents tell their kids to “Doe normaal!” (Act normal!) It is one of the two Dutch sentences the lovely Mrs Wednesday Wisdom can pronounce. The other one being: “Hand voor je mond!” (Hand in front of your mouth!), which is what we say if someone yawns while providing access to the light source at the other end of the tube that goes through your body all the way to the other end.
When I joined Google, I finally found my place. Here was a company where everyone was a wizard. When people asked me what it was like, I used to say: “Well, everyone’s a wizard and I am the dumbest person in the building”. Being in that exalted company robbed me from any last vestiges of feeling special that might still have been lingering. My colleagues had written books on a range of topics, had authored open source software that everyone in the world used, patented new stuff left and right, invented new (and useful) programming languages, and together we did things that had never been seen before. I cannot lay claim to any significant contributions to any of that, but I am really good at taking other people’s great ideas and running with them, which is a skill in itself. And also, I can grind, which in a world where every success is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration is also quite useful.
Being the dumbest person in the building means that you experience a lot of pressure from everyone above you. But, you have to realize that the easiest way to get better at something is if you have the examples right in front of your eyes to copy and learn from. It might be a lot of pressure, but pressure makes diamonds!
I kept running into people that looked like the younger me, but “gone wrong”. I once interviewed a young gentleman from South America who had applied for an SRE role at Google. I started the interview with a lowball Linux system administration question, which he answered satisfactorily. After giving the answer he looked at me proudly and said: “Have you ever met anyone aged 26 who knows as much about Linux as I do?” “Yes,” I answered, “everyone in this building.”
He did not make the hiring bar, but he became legendary for asking our lovely receptionist out on a date on the way out of the building.
In the hiring committees we regularly rejected candidates who we felt were probably smart enough, but who had spent too much time being a big fish in small ponds. It is not hard to shine in a dim room and these people had grown complacent and not continued to develop as engineers. I’ll say it again: Pressure makes diamonds, without that pressure you just have some carbon…
The times have really changed a lot. Compared to 40 years ago, there is an abundance of everything you need to get going in the field: Powerful computers are cheap and widely available; there’s the Internet, and, until recently, getting into technology was a surefire way to get a high paying job. Consequently, it appears to me that many people choose a career in tech not because of a passion for the subject matter, but for purely monetary reasons. I do not begrudge anyone that choice though and I totally understand parents who give their children three career options: Doctor, lawyer, software engineer. But I do regularly see that lack of passion and without that passion you do not have the intrinsic motivation to grind and without that grinding it is hard to become good.
I regularly told people who asked how to land a job at Google that the only people who could do that were the ones who had thoroughly misspent their childhood.
Personally I miss the days of pouring over a book on Z80 assembler and trying to make heads or tails of it. I got into this field because it seemed to me that making the idiot box do something useful was one of the greatest puzzles around and it has never disappointed in that sense. Choosing my employers so that I was always the dumbest person in the building worked extremely well for me. As a strategy for selecting your next gig, I can highly recommend it.
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