You poor thing, programmer. But I am a real one.
No, I'm also a programmer. Not just 1C, but whatever is needed: sometimes C++, sometimes Java, sometimes C#, Python, I've even written on the abominable JavaScript.
And yes, I work for 'the man.' A wonderful man: he brought us all together and makes incredible money. And I'm working for him for a salary.
And we have a mission. Loud, colorful. It's even written on our badges.
And despite all this, I am 'real.'
I don't want to start my own business: I'd turn from a good programmer into a mediocre businessman. I don't even particularly want to be a manager. I'm in my place. I solve problems that require at least my qualification, which I have acquired over decades. 'Those were hard years, and I do not regret them' (c).
And representatives of 'real' professions benefit from the results of the programs I've written, even if they're not aware of it. Builders, doctors, teachers, if they don't use them directly, at least they use products that are made with the help of tools created by programs that exist thanks to my programs... And that's my 'real' contribution. Even if it's not immediate, even if it's not visible right away. Even if I can't go to my sister and say: 'I helped treat your husband.'
We have a cafeteria, with a 'real' chef, can you imagine? And he cooks my food by hand. He spent about five times less time training for his profession than I did for mine. I can somehow perform his tasks, he would never be able to do mine. But without him, I would waste several hours of my 'highly qualified' time aimlessly. So I consider his contribution to my work significant. We work together! Cooperative game theory dedicates a lot to how to value his contribution to my work in monetary terms... And I'm just a bit thankful to him for making my life a little easier. Just as millions and millions of users of our products are thankful to me, even if they don't know who to personally send their gratitude to.
At family gatherings, I have little to share, especially from work: my problems are hardly understood by anyone, and my jokes are professionally distorted. Yet, for some reason, everyone still considers me smart… It's a mystery. And my relatives and friends want to spend time with me. And when I caught myself wanting to see my father more than I do now… I found a quiz club in the regional center. I gathered a team, inviting my father, three classmates, and a colleague from work. You'd be surprised, but my father travels 40 km from the suburbs every week to play. It's not that we play well… But we have a great time, and we always have a common interest to talk about. Although our professions don't even intersect.
And having a mission at work is a fantastic thing. I'm so glad we have it. It's like a beacon at sea: when it's unclear where to sail — head towards it. Sometimes I feel that the mission isn't for the employees. It's for the 'higher' managers, as a reminder of their aspirations. We had a couple of debates about constructive solutions, during which I touted that my solution aligns with the mission, while the alternative does not. You'd be surprised, but it worked…
There was also a time when I wanted to share what I had accumulated. I went to the university, asked for the opportunity to teach… And they gave it to me. They registered me for part-time, or something less, but they arranged my schedule for my classes conveniently. And I taught for over five years, can you imagine? From special school courses to advanced classes in the master's program. Every weekend, I prepared lectures/practices, waddled to the university early in the morning, and after classes went to my main job. Nothing stopped me: neither the main job that took a ton of time and energy, nor the financial aspects…
By the way, the small amounts I earned from teaching I usually spent back on my students. There was an assignment to write the logic for a football game, which I put together in a couple of days… I bought snacks and soda, and we watched a student logic tournament together. For an incredibly complex lab: "sentiment analysis of Twitter posts in Arabic", the student with the highest score received an e-reader. The second place got a player. Why not? And for a special school course, I ordered various things from China and elsewhere. I want my students to build something of their own instead of just submitting a project with Arduino.
Due to the move being quite far away, I left the university and now read lectures informally via Skype. Because I am occasionally asked to "explain something clearly." And because it is better to do than to dream.
And now I am "real." At work, I engage in useful activities. Outside of work, I am still useful. I have things to talk about with friends and relatives. I make full use of any rule or lack thereof at work. It’s not hard for me to tie a tie if I am asked. I look great in a suit, even though I don’t like wearing it.
And you — stay "not real." Cry in public about how fate has wronged you with a high-paying, incomprehensible profession. Dream about working in a school. Feel sorry for yourself a little more.
The world has slightly changed, along with the concept of "real." There is no longer a natural economy: what you grow, you eat. I can spend decades on qualification to do something complex. I know that "real" builders will build my house, and "real" doctors will help me live long. And "real" scientists will increase qualifications, who have a chain to the final product and "usefulness" even more than I do. And I will be bringing value to the world in my place. It seems that in the smart books you’ve read, this should be called "division of labor"?
Source: habr.com
