Tuesday, August 13, 2013

command code equals deleted

The following message was delivered to one Mr. King when his wife cried over the couch cushions as they were found cast all about the beautiful living room of her beautiful home, and I AM NOT ASHAMED. That's why I made you your own version here. If a tree falls in a forest and there is no computer around for me to blog my feelings about it, does it still make a sound?


Okay software engineers, do you remember that first program you wrote? When years of study, months of work, and maybe days and days of programming finally came together, and the program opened... And it worked? The thrill?! The pride?! 

Now imagine, even though it will always be a magical point in history, in order to ever write anything new again, you always have to write that first program again. From scratch. Every day. No matter what you do, or how you attempt to save it, by the time the sun rises, the careful lines of code have evaporated, and everything you've created depends on those lines being in place, and there is definitely no way to create anything new without them... 

Of course, through the years you've probably tweaked it here and there, streamlined the process--it's not like it's even hard anymore! (or challenging, or fun) You could write it in your sleep. It used to take days, then hours, but now (when everything is running right, nothing is overheating, and your memory is at it's finest) you can write it in as quickly as a couple hours. 

No big deal.

Just A COUPLE HOURS of your life.




Imagine waking up and knowing even though yesterday was the best you've ever written it, you even sort of enjoyed it again, as your feet hit the ground, and you Sonicare the sleep smell out of your mouth hole, you know it's gone. 

Well, now you know how I feel about housekeeping. 

Some of the rewards of my job ARE like writing a program; they come in explosive bursts of SUCCESS, or soft whispers of affection... but in between those sweet executable double clicks when the pieces fall together and the fans of the hardware whirr to life in anticipation...  

Couch cushions. 

Folding clean clothes. 

Kitchen counters. 

Shoes in the hallway.

Leaves on the front porch.

Dog poop on the back porch.

Clean dishes in the washer.

Dirty hair on other people's heads.

Trash cans.

Then work up some equation that takes the essence of those tiny tedious chores, times it by a thousand other random jobs, then develop an algorithm to determine which parts of the brain the repetition of those will begin to eat away at first...

...and that's my day in terms a software engineer <cough> jon king <cough> could understand. 

Except I'm pretty sure I've never had a magical moment with laundry. 


Side note engineers: this post in no way reflects the part where, while your actively, CURRENTLY! typing, small humans can walk up and begin smashing keys with jam covered digits. And if you're really good at your job, you don't even get to push them aside and fix it quickly, you have to fold your frustrated hands into your armpits, stand behind them patiently, and walk THEM through the clean up process: 

Double click right there.

No. Not there. Over. 



Too far. Go back. See that sideways triangle without it's bottom? (Because you have to use words the uneducated spawn of your loins will understand) Click there.


But that's a post for another day. Now this Mormon mother is going to look for the program written in the tiny keychain flask Urban Outfitters probably intended for hipster twenty somethings, but should really be marketed in Good Housekeeping. They. Would. Sell. OUT.

1 comment:

Lorraine said...

Brilliant. Just brilliant. I wish my husband was a coder.