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Posted by kitt at 14:15 on 20 January 2005
Ah, to be young and so sure of myself as to be arrogant. Those were the days.
Hey, wait a second.
When I was young, I was completely plagued with self-doubt, feelings of inadequecy, and self-loathing. Those were days of torture, frustration, anger and hopelessness. Arrogance? Maybe less humility than I should have had, but arrogance? Nah.
On the flight home from Denver, I had the pleasure of sitting next to a young man, presumably a college kid, on his way to San Jose for an interview with Apple.
Ick. "Young man." Sounds so snooty. I sat next to this young guy who was clearly a geek. And he didn't appear to be suffering the plagues of my youth, that's for sure.
After he shoved his rollerbag into the overhead bin, he threw down his Camel book (Programming Perl for those non-O'Reilly, non-perl folks out there), and sat down in a huff. I sat down in my aisle seat, and continued to read my magazine. After a bit, my curiousity got the better of me, and I asked him why he was reading his Perl book. He said he'll have an interview the next day, and he was studying hard for his interview. He had heard that Apple uses perl for scripting and that he should know it. So, full of importance, he opens the book (page 127) and starts reading (an hour later he made it to page 137, boding not well for my young friend here, in his hopes of completing his studies).
When I pulled out my mac to start working (that would be writing another "Letters to My Children" entry, entitled "Every Choice Means a Sacrifice"), he told me that it was a great computer, that I had made a good choice in purchasing it. I felt so much better knowing I had made the correct choice, because I could have pulled out the other laptop I had with me, the PoS PC.
Lordy, did I chuckle to myself on this one. He continued to try to impress me, with talk about Apple, perl, interviews, how his time would be completely filled, with grandiose sighs and self important glances, with mutterings about this and that. I didn't have the heart to tell him my experience. I'm sure they would have paled in comparison to his glorious achievements.
At some point, however, he must have sensed that he was talking to another geek, perhaps one a little more experienced than he was, because he asked with a stark look of slight terror, "I'm not speaking to an Apple employee right now, am I?" I chuckled, and said no.
I don't think he believed me. He didn't talk to me for the remaining 90 minutes of the flight. I almost feel sorry for the guy. I mean, here he is being out-geeked by the passenger two seats over from him on the flight out to his interview, and he's interviewing where there are hundreds of people who can out-geek her (me).
Did I mention said college kid doesn't play ultimate? Well, he doesn't.
Ah, to be young and so sure of myself as to be arrogant. Those were the days.
Hey, wait a second.
When I was young, I was completely plagued with self-doubt, feelings of inadequecy, and self-loathing. Those were days of torture, frustration, anger and hopelessness. Arrogance? Maybe less humility than I should have had, but arrogance? Nah.
On the flight home from Denver, I had the pleasure of sitting next to a young man, presumably a college kid, on his way to San Jose for an interview with Apple.
Ick. "Young man." Sounds so snooty. I sat next to this young guy who was clearly a geek. And he didn't appear to be suffering the plagues of my youth, that's for sure.
After he shoved his rollerbag into the overhead bin, he threw down his Camel book (Programming Perl for those non-O'Reilly, non-perl folks out there), and sat down in a huff. I sat down in my aisle seat, and continued to read my magazine. After a bit, my curiousity got the better of me, and I asked him why he was reading his Perl book. He said he'll have an interview the next day, and he was studying hard for his interview. He had heard that Apple uses perl for scripting and that he should know it. So, full of importance, he opens the book (page 127) and starts reading (an hour later he made it to page 137, boding not well for my young friend here, in his hopes of completing his studies).
When I pulled out my mac to start working (that would be writing another "Letters to My Children" entry, entitled "Every Choice Means a Sacrifice"), he told me that it was a great computer, that I had made a good choice in purchasing it. I felt so much better knowing I had made the correct choice, because I could have pulled out the other laptop I had with me, the PoS PC.
Lordy, did I chuckle to myself on this one. He continued to try to impress me, with talk about Apple, perl, interviews, how his time would be completely filled, with grandiose sighs and self important glances, with mutterings about this and that. I didn't have the heart to tell him my experience. I'm sure they would have paled in comparison to his glorious achievements.
At some point, however, he must have sensed that he was talking to another geek, perhaps one a little more experienced than he was, because he asked with a stark look of slight terror, "I'm not speaking to an Apple employee right now, am I?" I chuckled, and said no.
I don't think he believed me. He didn't talk to me for the remaining 90 minutes of the flight. I almost feel sorry for the guy. I mean, here he is being out-geeked by the passenger two seats over from him on the flight out to his interview, and he's interviewing where there are hundreds of people who can out-geek her (me).
Did I mention said college kid doesn't play ultimate? Well, he doesn't.