wishing they were.
One IT company recently had researched how long it took for a programmer to get back to being productive after being distracted. The answer was four hours. Roger was about to rob someone of his or her focus — and that was a serious affront. He took a random shot and stopped at the cluttered cubicle of a Jacob McLean — his nametag professionally etched out of stainless steel. Jacob didn’t look like the stainless steel type.
“Jacob?”
Jacob kept typing. Roger waited. He understood. Complete the thought. When he did, he looked up, not happy with the interruption.
“You’re the virus consultant, right?” He looked bored with the idea of conversation. Roger could tell that code was still flying around in his head, looking for a place to land.
Roger tried his best to appear collegial. He wasn’t sure he knew how. “I was hoping you might have a couple of minutes to talk about Buzzworm .”
Jacob looked puzzled. “You mean like now? Or beers later.”
Roger laughed. “Well, I’m good with beers, but I need some analysis now. Before I flip out and start throwing things. Know what I mean?”
Jacob shook his head. “I don’t think I can talk to you without Jo’s permission, man.”
“She hired me to do this — to analyze the situation by talking to people who work here. You work here, right?”
Jacob looked past him. “OK. Down there at the end. By the whiteboard. You’ll find a pop machine. With some couches and chairs. Go cool there, and I’ll be done in ten.”
Roger looked down the aisle, then back at Jacob. He could just be flipping him off. He looked sincere enough though. And what choice did he have?
“Great. My name’s Roger. See you in ten.”
Winding his way through the cube farm, he noted that there were no personal items posted on the cube walls. Probably company policy. Everything else though was open season. There were snatches of printed code, project charts, virus lists, even a few periodical tables. Organized insurrection. Not breaking the word of the rules, just the spirit.
At the end of the aisle was a gathering area – a rec zone. There were three couches, not sloppy and worn out like he was used to in college. These were modern and clean, but at the same time hardly comfortable. He could still imagine someone sleeping there over night, which he knew happened often. He sat in the middle couch and waited.
Fifteen minutes later Jacob showed up with two other young men. He introduced them as Rupinder, a team lead, and Kyle, who worked the support desk. They both grabbed Cokes from the machine then sat down opposite from him. Jacob started.
“Kyle supports our staff and has some freaky virus stories for you. Rupinder is the guy who grabbed your video off the system yesterday. I figured you’d want to meet him.”
“Thanks for making me famous,” said Roger, rubbing his temple. “Next time show it when Dodge isn’t in the room.”
Rupinder smiled shyly and nodded his appreciation. “How did you grab it?” Roger asked
Rupinder gathered his thoughts and spoke softly. “I have this screen capture program that I use to grab YouTube vids, so I can burn them onto DVD. I brought it in hoping I could catch Buzzworm in action.”
Roger squinted at Rupinder, who knew immediately why he was being glared at.
“Yes. It’s unauthorized,” answered Rupinder. “But if I didn’t install it, we wouldn’t have a single thing to show you.”
“How did you install it then? You don’t have system permission.”
Rupinder looked at Jacob and Kyle then sighed. “We had a coder quit a few weeks ago. He left all the routines he was working on locked up in his personal directory. I got admin to give me access.”
Roger whistled, looking serious. “I guess we have our Buzzworm then. You’re a coder, you know the system and you had unauthorized access.”
Rupinder sat up, instantly offended. “And I guess we can add racial profiling to the list of
One IT company recently had researched how long it took for a programmer to get back to being productive after being distracted. The answer was four hours. Roger was about to rob someone of his or her focus — and that was a serious affront. He took a random shot and stopped at the cluttered cubicle of a Jacob McLean — his nametag professionally etched out of stainless steel. Jacob didn’t look like the stainless steel type.
“Jacob?”
Jacob kept typing. Roger waited. He understood. Complete the thought. When he did, he looked up, not happy with the interruption.
“You’re the virus consultant, right?” He looked bored with the idea of conversation. Roger could tell that code was still flying around in his head, looking for a place to land.
Roger tried his best to appear collegial. He wasn’t sure he knew how. “I was hoping you might have a couple of minutes to talk about Buzzworm .”
Jacob looked puzzled. “You mean like now? Or beers later.”
Roger laughed. “Well, I’m good with beers, but I need some analysis now. Before I flip out and start throwing things. Know what I mean?”
Jacob shook his head. “I don’t think I can talk to you without Jo’s permission, man.”
“She hired me to do this — to analyze the situation by talking to people who work here. You work here, right?”
Jacob looked past him. “OK. Down there at the end. By the whiteboard. You’ll find a pop machine. With some couches and chairs. Go cool there, and I’ll be done in ten.”
Roger looked down the aisle, then back at Jacob. He could just be flipping him off. He looked sincere enough though. And what choice did he have?
“Great. My name’s Roger. See you in ten.”
Winding his way through the cube farm, he noted that there were no personal items posted on the cube walls. Probably company policy. Everything else though was open season. There were snatches of printed code, project charts, virus lists, even a few periodical tables. Organized insurrection. Not breaking the word of the rules, just the spirit.
At the end of the aisle was a gathering area – a rec zone. There were three couches, not sloppy and worn out like he was used to in college. These were modern and clean, but at the same time hardly comfortable. He could still imagine someone sleeping there over night, which he knew happened often. He sat in the middle couch and waited.
Fifteen minutes later Jacob showed up with two other young men. He introduced them as Rupinder, a team lead, and Kyle, who worked the support desk. They both grabbed Cokes from the machine then sat down opposite from him. Jacob started.
“Kyle supports our staff and has some freaky virus stories for you. Rupinder is the guy who grabbed your video off the system yesterday. I figured you’d want to meet him.”
“Thanks for making me famous,” said Roger, rubbing his temple. “Next time show it when Dodge isn’t in the room.”
Rupinder smiled shyly and nodded his appreciation. “How did you grab it?” Roger asked
Rupinder gathered his thoughts and spoke softly. “I have this screen capture program that I use to grab YouTube vids, so I can burn them onto DVD. I brought it in hoping I could catch Buzzworm in action.”
Roger squinted at Rupinder, who knew immediately why he was being glared at.
“Yes. It’s unauthorized,” answered Rupinder. “But if I didn’t install it, we wouldn’t have a single thing to show you.”
“How did you install it then? You don’t have system permission.”
Rupinder looked at Jacob and Kyle then sighed. “We had a coder quit a few weeks ago. He left all the routines he was working on locked up in his personal directory. I got admin to give me access.”
Roger whistled, looking serious. “I guess we have our Buzzworm then. You’re a coder, you know the system and you had unauthorized access.”
Rupinder sat up, instantly offended. “And I guess we can add racial profiling to the list of
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