T w e n t y S i d e d

One day I visit the college to pick up Heather for a date. She’s in the library, finishing up writing some paper for class. She’s using a program called Netscape to do… something. I’m not sure what this thing is for. I only see a glimpse of it before we leave. I gather that the college has an internet – whatever that is. She describes the paper and her brutal workload at school, but my mind is busy asking what this Netscape thing is and what it’s for.

It’s 1994, and I’ve landed a job at a medium-sized company. They’re willing to hire me, despite my lack of a degree and experience. I begin working nights. I’m charged with running and delivering the nightly reports, and making backups. I spend most of the shift sitting around, waiting for the computer to finish the next thing. With a faster computer, I could do all of my work in about three hours. This is not taxing or cerebral work, but it is solid work experience and a chance to prove myself.

Continue reading ⟩⟩ “Autoblography Part 36: Big Iron”

Shamus Young is a programmer, an author, and nearly a composer. He works on this site full time. If you'd like to support him, you can do so via Patreon or PayPal.

In late 1993, the videogame Doom is released. It’s a sensation. Naturally I’m obsessed with it, just like most game-playing guys my age are. But I’m also obsessed with the game from a technological standpoint. This game has completely revolutionized my thinking regarding what is possible on modern computers. The game has texture mapped walls, light and dark areas, and elevation changes. This is such a monumental leap ahead of what existing games can do that it’s staggering. I look at the programs I’ve written so far and I feel sort of ashamed. Somewhere out there, this is happening. People are inventing this stuff without me. I need to buckle down. I need to learn faster. Or learn more. Or something different. At the rate I’m going, I’m never going to catch up.

It’s not that I want to make videogames (although that sounds like it would be fun) it’s that I want to understand. I want to know how it works. I want to see what else these machines can do.

I learn everything I can about the engine that drives this game. Eventually I get my hands on the level editor and begin making my own maps. This process will pay off for me later in a big way.

Working Taco Bell is murder today. The weather is gorgeous, a new outlet has opened in the plaza, and we are woefully, humiliatingly understaffed. I’m taking a few orders at a time at the front register, then dashing to the back to wash my hands and help prepare tacos, then assembling the orders, and then running back to the register to take more orders. This is horribly inefficient and exhausting, but it’s better than standing in front of the customers drumming my fingers while order times creep towards half an hour.

I stammer halfway through my robotic greeting as I look up at the next customer. It’s Neighbor John! I haven’t seen him since I was still a kid. He’s looking much the same as ever. Perhaps his massive beard is a bit more grey, and perhaps the lines on his face are a little easier to see, but he’s still the same gentle and polite man I remember from my childhood.

Continue reading ⟩⟩ “Autoblography Part 35: The Rut”

Shamus Young is a programmer, an author, and nearly a composer. He works on this site full time. If you'd like to support him, you can do so via Patreon or PayPal.

It’s 1993, and I’m working at Taco Bell. Working here is miserable, but very instructive as a low-level view of corporate dysfunction.

I’m 22 now. My life isn’t irrevocably ruined by this fast-food detour, but I can feel the clock ticking. The longer I’m stuck in this rut, the harder it will be to break out. I need to find some kind of technology job soon. This is hampered somewhat by the fact that I’m afraid to look for work. I like thinking that I’ll be able to get some kind of job doing what I love. The only thing that can kill that dream is to attempt to do so and fail. I’m not really aware of this dysfunction right now; it’s just a little neurosis that eats away at me from time to time and perpetuates foolish behavior.

My friend David is going to school at Nyack. Patrick has graduated high school and gone off to the Navy. I’ve made new friends at Taco Bell but we’re all friends of proximity, not common interests. I’m feeling a little isolated these days.

Heather is now in her second year of college. She’s double-majoring in elementary and special education, with an art minor. In those rare moments away from school, she’s working as a nanny. It’s keeping her busy. We’re still dating, but our relationship is an on-again, off-again thing. Taking the long view, this is probably for the best. I’m not a very nice person to be around these days, and our distance saves her from the brunt of my bitterness, self-absorption, and jackassery. The friends around me are not so lucky, and I end up treating a lot of people very poorly.

I’ve been made a shift manager. I’m allowed to be in charge of the store and I’m privy to the inner workings of the business in a way that wasn’t possible as a lowly mook at McDonald’s. I find I’m very interested in the problem of how the weekly work schedule is made.

Continue reading ⟩⟩ “Autoblography Part 34: The Systems Analyst”

Shamus Young is a programmer, an author, and nearly a composer. He works on this site full time. If you'd like to support him, you can do so via Patreon or PayPal.

Heather picks me up in her parent’s car. This is our first date.

I’ve never seen her wearing anything besides her McDonald’s uniform. She shows up wearing an ankle-length skirt with a flower print and a jean jacket. I have this strange moment where I realize we are the products of two entirely different teenage cultures. If we’d gone to school together, we might never have associated with each other. By meeting in a work environment where we wore uniforms, we didn’t drag all of our high school ideas about identity into our relationship. Until now.

“That’s an… interesting outfit,” I blurt out. I know this this incredibly wrong the moment the words escape my mouth, and none of my hastily appended comments do anything to blunt the fact that I was just a jerk to her. This is on top of the fact that I was already kind of a jerk when she asked me to prom. She’s an exceptionally good sport about it.

We go see Medicine Man, starring Sean Connery. This is a movie with A Message, and the message gets in the way of the storytelling. I really like the characters, but the ham-fisted plot repeatedly tests my patience. As it grinds through the sad parts of the movie, I look over to see if Heather is as annoyed as I am. She is not. In fact, she is a little teary-eyed.

This date could be going better, but it could also be going worse. In fact, it’s about to.

Continue reading ⟩⟩ “Autoblography Part 33: Meet Cute”

Shamus Young is a programmer, an author, and nearly a composer. He works on this site full time. If you'd like to support him, you can do so via Patreon or PayPal.