I am a programmer?
Once upon a time, when the internet was a far-off dream, I was working for a computer consulting company. I had finished my degree with a double major in accounting and data processing, and now had a full-time job as, what I thought was, a computer programmer.
I first learned programming using punched cards on a computer server called an ICL 1900 in my first year as an accounting student. I had to learn how to punch my own card programs, and (some of you will understand) rebuild a dropped deck of cards to their correct sequence!
In 1980, I purchased my own personal computer — 13K of internal memory, a cassette tape deck for programs, and a connection to a standard old TV. My world was now full of creativity — what I could do with my brain and my fingers!
At school, I learned the BASIC and COBOL languages, and we eventually worked on a VAX computer using Fortran and the VMS operating system. I was able to do things not expected of students, so it was clear that this was to be my passion for some time to come.
In my first consulting job, I would be included in a team that would have a project for a customer’s business requirements. We were working on IBM midrange business computers, programming in languages named DDS, CL, and RPG. We programmed on stand-alone terminals attached to the server. Depending on the customer, these terminals were in place already, so it was sit down and go.
One customer in particular set up a new room for our team. Every desk had a new terminal, and there was some setup required for each. These were Prime terminals, and they all had to be set to individual addresses so the server could recognize them independently.
The DP manager (yes, that was his title) told me the address I needed for my terminal, and I asked how I would set that address. Underneath a small door in the front of the terminal was a DIP switch to set the address for that device. My next mistake was to ask “how” I would go about setting the DIP switch.
He looked at me with disbelief and asked “you’re a programmer, don’t you have a screwdriver?”. In our world of IBM minicomputers, terminals were self-addressing and just needed to be connected via twinax to the host computer. Prime terminals were not native, and they had to be manually addressed.
Since I did not have the required DIP switch tool — aka, screwdriver, the DP Manager procured one and gave it to me. Now, my credentials were complete. I carry this screwdriver with me at all time, just in case someone asks “you’re a programmer, don’t you have a screwdriver?”.
I am a programmer!