Ladies Can The
Copyright (C) 1991, William D. Wickart. All rights reserved.
It was another long, late night in the lab at work. This is a great job,
but the occasional “crunch” times explains why so few people survive more
than a handful of years. The problems are rewarding, and correct solutions let
me attend national trade conferences as an “engineering expert”, answering deep
questions on state-of-the-art technology for any of the twenty thousand people
attending from all facets of the industry. That’s the real “high” of all this
grinding: to look over a huge convention trade hall, filled with the most active
people in the whole high-tech industry, and be publically acknowledged as one of
the very few who actually *creates* the magic.
In all humility, I am merely the representative of a team of 20 to 50 people
who worked equally hard; my specialty outside design is that I can translate the
world of pull-up transistors and half-latches into the information needs of a
potential sales representative for a major customer. I can do it for 15 hours a
day for a week at a time, and keep track of who I have told what, and how much
they seem to like it. Our sales force loves me, and it gives me that one skill
outside my own department that I need for long-term advancement in the company.
True power is being among the best, and being able to get other people to recog-
nize it. Thanks to my God and my teachers, I am both.
Tonight, however, was one of those nights lost in the shuffle of “nine parts
perspiration.” I had taken once again to working midnight to about 10AM, so I
could get a peaceful environment and all the machine cycles I could eat. I have
a whole stable of routines that start their deliberations as soon as enough
people leave for their families and night life; by the time I come in, I had
quite enough diagnostic information in my electronic mailbox to take the next
step in debugging. Sometimes, I can take a few good ideas and get Jeff to
run them during the day; sometimes, I do the same for him. Between us, we cut
about 10% of the development time out of the overall department schedule, and
our stock options bear witness to our continued effectiveness. We even see one
another about once a week in these times.
That night, however, I had things almost all to myself. Someone was working
in the layout area across the floor; the overhead lights were on, and I could
see a few brown curls bob occasionally between there and the offices to the
right. Probably Debbie, one of the brightest of our new college crop last June.
She has a quick mind and a good insticnt for the correct solution, but she still
has a hard time letting go of “her” solution when a better one comes up. Also,
she puts in even more graveyard time than I did. The pace of work here will fix
both those deficiencies within three years, one way or the other. I was in no
position to guide her into more productive paths, as we rarely shared a problem
on a day-to-day basis.
I looked over the last batch of diagnostic output, and cursed myself for a
novice. I’d just wasted four hours of clock time, although with the low system
…End of the part1. To be continued..
Ladies Can The
Copyright (C) 1991, William D. Wickart. All rights reserved.
It was another long, late night in the lab at work. This is a great job,
but the occasional “crunch” times explains why so few people survive more
than a handful of years. The problems are rewarding, and correct solutions let
me attend national trade conferences as an “engineering expert”, answering deep
questions on state-of-the-art technology for any of the twenty thousand people
attending from all facets of the industry. That’s the real “high” of all this
grinding: to look over a huge convention trade hall, filled with the most active
people in the whole high-tech industry, and be publically acknowledged as one of
the very few who actually *creates* the magic.
In all humility, I am merely the representative of a team of 20 to 50 people
who worked equally hard; my specialty outside design is that I can translate the
world of pull-up transistors and half-latches into the information needs of a
potential sales representative for a major customer. I can do it for 15 hours a
day for a week at a time, and keep track of who I have told what, and how much
they seem to like it. Our sales force loves me, and it gives me that one skill
outside my own department that I need for long-term advancement in the company.
True power is being among the best, and being able to get other people to recog-
nize it. Thanks to my God and my teachers, I am both.
Tonight, however, was one of those nights lost in the shuffle of “nine parts
perspiration.” I had taken once again to working midnight to about 10AM, so I
could get a peaceful environment and all the machine cycles I could eat. I have
a whole stable of routines that start their deliberations as soon as enough
people leave for their families and night life; by the time I come in, I had
quite enough diagnostic information in my electronic mailbox to take the next
step in debugging. Sometimes, I can take a few good ideas and get Jeff to
run them during the day; sometimes, I do the same for him. Between us, we cut
about 10% of the development time out of the overall department schedule, and
our stock options bear witness to our continued effectiveness. We even see one
another about once a week in these times.
That night, however, I had things almost all to myself. Someone was working
in the layout area across the floor; the overhead lights were on, and I could
see a few brown curls bob occasionally between there and the offices to the
right. Probably Debbie, one of the brightest of our new college crop last June.
She has a quick mind and a good insticnt for the correct solution, but she still
has a hard time letting go of “her” solution when a better one comes up. Also,
she puts in even more graveyard time than I did. The pace of work here will fix
both those deficiencies within three years, one way or the other. I was in no
position to guide her into more productive paths, as we rarely shared a problem
on a day-to-day basis.
I looked over the last batch of diagnostic output, and cursed myself for a
novice. I’d just wasted four hours of clock time, although with the low system
…End of the part1. To be continued..
Comments are closed.
Ladies Can The
Copyright (C) 1991, William D. Wickart. All rights reserved.
It was another long, late night in the lab at work. This is a great job,
but the occasional “crunch” times explains why so few people survive more
than a handful of years. The problems are rewarding, and correct solutions let
me attend national trade conferences as an “engineering expert”, answering deep
questions on state-of-the-art technology for any of the twenty thousand people
attending from all facets of the industry. That’s the real “high” of all this
grinding: to look over a huge convention trade hall, filled with the most active
people in the whole high-tech industry, and be publically acknowledged as one of
the very few who actually *creates* the magic.
In all humility, I am merely the representative of a team of 20 to 50 people
who worked equally hard; my specialty outside design is that I can translate the
world of pull-up transistors and half-latches into the information needs of a
potential sales representative for a major customer. I can do it for 15 hours a
day for a week at a time, and keep track of who I have told what, and how much
they seem to like it. Our sales force loves me, and it gives me that one skill
outside my own department that I need for long-term advancement in the company.
True power is being among the best, and being able to get other people to recog-
nize it. Thanks to my God and my teachers, I am both.
Tonight, however, was one of those nights lost in the shuffle of “nine parts
perspiration.” I had taken once again to working midnight to about 10AM, so I
could get a peaceful environment and all the machine cycles I could eat. I have
a whole stable of routines that start their deliberations as soon as enough
people leave for their families and night life; by the time I come in, I had
quite enough diagnostic information in my electronic mailbox to take the next
step in debugging. Sometimes, I can take a few good ideas and get Jeff to
run them during the day; sometimes, I do the same for him. Between us, we cut
about 10% of the development time out of the overall department schedule, and
our stock options bear witness to our continued effectiveness. We even see one
another about once a week in these times.
That night, however, I had things almost all to myself. Someone was working
in the layout area across the floor; the overhead lights were on, and I could
see a few brown curls bob occasionally between there and the offices to the
right. Probably Debbie, one of the brightest of our new college crop last June.
She has a quick mind and a good insticnt for the correct solution, but she still
has a hard time letting go of “her” solution when a better one comes up. Also,
she puts in even more graveyard time than I did. The pace of work here will fix
both those deficiencies within three years, one way or the other. I was in no
position to guide her into more productive paths, as we rarely shared a problem
on a day-to-day basis.
I looked over the last batch of diagnostic output, and cursed myself for a
novice. I’d just wasted four hours of clock time, although with the low system
…End of the part1. To be continued..
Comments are closed.