Generally, the Real Programmer plays the same way he works -- with
computers. He is constantly amazed that his employer actually pays him
to do what he would be doing for fun anyway (although he is careful
not to express this opinion out loud). Occasionally, the Real
Programmer does step out of the office for a breath of fresh air and a
beer or two. Some tips on recognizing real programmers away from the
computer room:
At a party, the Real Programmers are the ones in the corner
talking about operating system security and how to get around
it.
At a football game, the Real Programmer is the one comparing
the plays against his simulations printed on 11 by 14 fanfold
paper.
At the beach, the Real Programmer is the one drawing
flowcharts in the sand.
A Real Programmer goes to discos to watch the light shows.
At a funeral, the Real Programmer is the one saying "Poor
George. And he almost had the sort routine working before the
coronary."
In a grocery store, the Real Programmer is the one who
insists on running the cans past the laser checkout scanner
himself, because he never could trust keypunch operators to get
it right the first time.
The Real Programmer's Natural Habitat
What sort of environment does the Real Programmer function best in?
This is an important question for the managers of Real Programmers.
Considering the amount of money it costs to keep one on the staff,
it's best to put him (or her) in an environment where he can get
his work done.
The typical Real Programmer lives in front of a computer terminal.
Surrounding this terminal are:
Listings of all programs the Real Programmer has ever worked
on, piled in roughly chronological order on every flat surface
in the office.
Some half-dozen or so partly filled cups of cold coffee.
Occasionally, there will be cigarette butts floating in the
coffee. In some cases, the cups will contain Orange Crush.
Unless he is very good, there will be copies of the OSJCL
manual and the Principles of Operation open to some
particularly interesting pages.
Taped to the wall is a line-printer Snoopy calender for the
year 1969.
Strewn about the floor are several wrappers for peanut butter
filled cheese bars -- the type that are made pre-stale at the
bakery so they can't get any worse while waiting in the vending
machine.
Hiding in the top left-hand drawer of the desk is a stash of
double-stuff Oreos for special occasions.
Underneath the Oreos is a flow-charting template, left there
by the previous occupant of the office. (Real Programmers write
programs, not documentation. Leave that to the maintainence
people.)
The Real Programmer is capable of working 30, 40, even 50 hours
at a stretch, under intense pressure. In fact, he prefers it
that way. Bad response time doesn't bother the Real Programmer
-- it gives him a chance to catch a little sleep between
compiles. If there is not enough schedule pressure on the Real
Programmer, he tends to make things more challenging by working
on some small but interesting part of the problem for the first
nine weeks, then finishing the rest in the last week, in two or
three 50-hour marathons. This not only inpresses the hell out
of his manager, who was despairing of ever getting the project
done on time, but creates a convenient excuse for not doing the
documentation. In general:
No Real Programmer works 9 to 5. (Unless it's the ones at
night.)
Real Programmers don't wear neckties.
Real Programmers don't wear high heeled shoes. [But you
*never* know!]
Real Programmers arrive at work in time for lunch.
A Real Programmer might or might not know his wife's name. He
does, however, know the entire ASCII (and/or EBCDIC) code
table.
Real Programmers don't know how to cook. Grocery stores
aren't open at three in the morning.
Real Programmers survive on Twinkies and coffee.
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W H Y C O P S H A T E Y O U <<<<&l <
-if you have to ask get out of the way-
Have you ever been stopped by a traffic cop and, while he was
writing a ticket or giving you a warning, you got the feeling that
he would just love to yank you out of the car, right through the
window, and smash your face into the front fender?...
