Back in the day
there was no such thing as systems, just halls filled with white goods collectively known as "the computer". The ancestral BOFH wore a white lab coat and had, as an equally ancestral PFY, spent most of his time swapping out burned-out valves. Now, in the wonderful transistorised 1960s, he had graduated to disentangling dropped reels of tape, be they magnetic or punched, when he was not shepherding a bunch of next-gen PFY hopefuls.
As one of only two kids in the Computer Club who, after three terms of struggle, had actually got a program to run, I was clearly a PFY with a great future in IT ahead of me.
I loved programming, knew it was the future, knew I could cream off a good living in a vastly expanding world of BOFHs.
However I found that my subconscious had read, marked and inwardly digested the true character of life as a BOFH, and had determined never, ever to cut code for anybody else, no not ever.
So I [see icon], went to college and studied philosophy, a choice I have never regretted.
But as you can see by my presence here, you may leave systems and software behind, but they will never leave you.
Biting the hand that feeds IT
