Knowledge builds upon itself. However, the returns often don’t measure up.
As a self-taught Java programmer, I embarked on my first job with high hopes. My fresh mindset was void of any stereotypical assumptions based on a computer science degree. I was an ardent technology enthusiast, even though I hadn’t yet comprehended the depth of my passion fully.
During those early days, there was no Google or online platforms like StackOverflow or Reddit to aid my journey. Setting my eyes on the top of the career ladder didn’t resonate with me. Rather, I anticipated a smooth road to a successful programming career, bypassing any hurdles on the way.
Before rubbing shoulders with any poor managers, I already had a dislike for software management. I learned the principles predominantly for job interviews and nothing more. Understandably, my interest in technology was rather raw and undefined, like most passionate love affairs, and I savored it as it was.
I started my career with an in-house programming training that provided a quick tour through all levels of software development; database, mainstream programming, and front-end, all squeezed into 45 days. Most of the time was spent on lectures with exams that were not designed to fail anyone. Quality checks were not a prerequisite for the training providers as their income depended on churning out a large number of certified developers.
At that time, Unix seemed like a mystical land to me as I heard my peers boast about their command mastery. I later discovered that their Unix expertise was a product of their undisturbed college computer access — a luxury I couldn’t afford. They were rebellious by nature, and in my view, the rebellious didn’t fit my envisioned software career path. Little did I know then!
As my journey continued, I found myself in a mundane job with no client assignment due to my lack of a CS degree. I passed most of my time hacking the proxy server for internet access, a task I loved as it leveraged my Java networking knowledge. During that period, I developed a small P2P messenger using Java, which earned me an assignment on an in-house web project involving ASP.
A large client project soon came along, promising to end my boredom. It involved hotel management software running on C++, and that’s where I wanted to be, meddling with an OS-level programming language. However, I ended up working on the Crystal reports module which, although elementary, was remarkably challenging.
I found a glimmer of hope in the Crystal Report middleware DLL, written in C++, but it was an undocumented API. My endeavors to unearth the code’s secrets met with resistance from seniors. They didn’t consider it a necessity and were reluctant to guide me. My days were filled with mundane tasks and the desperate yearning to work on something worthy of an engineer.
There were many companies with tempting opportunities such as Sun Microsystem, Microsoft, Adobe, Oracle, and Yahoo. I wanted to join them, but my attempts at interviews were futile. The tech I was learning didn’t line up with the linear growth trajectory I was aiming for. I realized that the rewarding tech struggle seldom converted into a monetary benefit.
Tech is an unpredictable landscape, and leadership surpasses time, I learned. I was stuck in a rut, dealing with petty problems, ambiguous log messages, and sleepless nights. The help from seniors often came with a catch—they were withholding knowledge. They used their knowledge as leverage to assert their superiority, which was frustrating.
In both product and service sectors, the freedom to choose your work and reap the financial rewards is a rare luxury. Tech managers hold these privileges and use them to keep you on your toes.
Despite all these, the realm of pure tech is an intriguing world filled with peculiar highs and lows. But, a point arrives when mere satisfaction doesn’t cut it. Overambitious managers and Agile-selling PM coaches create toxic team cultures that rob you of the joy in work. But, we adapt and find new means to survive.
Incidentally, the rebellious Unix enthusiasts, despite their disdain for managerial positions, found themselves on the managerial ladder. They had the potential to create significant shifts in the tech universe, but instead, they became casualties of a soulless system. They contribute to the overlooked potential that doesn’t reflect on balance sheets.
