Can't sleep. Indirect Addressing will eat me. Can't sleep. Indirect Addressing will eat me.
Can't sleep. Keyed up. Sleep deprived. Alcohol lubricated. Way To Awake.
Tomorrow looms large. I am all alone with the beast and will be for 8 grinding hours.
The main programmer is leaving for a family event. He will not be there tomorrow. The specially trained service engineer sent to replace him, blew his drug test last minute. The guy has to go home.
The guy who was supposed to cover the other half of the machine.
The half I didn't train for. The half written by a guy I honestly cede 20 IQ points to. This same guy who developed this code (totally cutting edge for the industry) across six versions and three years to it's present form, creating it from scratch and with hundreds and hundreds of hours of programming.
Few people understand his code because he works in a form of programming referred to as Indirect Addressing and he uses a hell of a lot of it. Anyone who has ever written much computer code probably understands my reference (and internal groaning).
He uses a lot of it and frankly, I admit his programming style is kind of beautiful in it's way. His logic code is very complexly woven and damn impressive.
I saw that complex and impressive code for the first time today and got about two hours of instruction. The guy who pissed dirty has months of hard worn experience with this system.
"Nothing should go wrong with this half of the machine. Call me if you need me, I should answer."
We are two complete days into the new production run. Nothing terrible has gone wrong. Despite the incredible shrinking launch window and not enough time to do bloody anything...the damn thing is chugging along well and making cars at a rapid rate.
Management has not screamed in two days. They have been smiling.
It's eerie. Things Never Go This Well. EVER. The entire crew has taking to suspiciously knocking on wood whenever someone says anything about how well the last two days have been.
Scientific, educated, mature, experienced computer programmers KNOCKING ON WOOD whenever positive comments are spoken. (And wood is hard to find in automotive automation).
OK. I am not going to even attempt to try to absorb anymore of the structure of this program tonight. If sh*t hits the fan tomorrow, I am simply going to have to be brilliant.
Everything will be fine...right? The alternative being I lose out on three to four months of highly lucrative contract work with options on future projects that run on for at least a year.
I will simply be be brilliant.
Damn it.
I love you, wife. I love our son. No matter what.
Good night all.
Tomorrow looms large. I am all alone with the beast and will be for 8 grinding hours.
The main programmer is leaving for a family event. He will not be there tomorrow. The specially trained service engineer sent to replace him, blew his drug test last minute. The guy has to go home.
The guy who was supposed to cover the other half of the machine.
The half I didn't train for. The half written by a guy I honestly cede 20 IQ points to. This same guy who developed this code (totally cutting edge for the industry) across six versions and three years to it's present form, creating it from scratch and with hundreds and hundreds of hours of programming.
Few people understand his code because he works in a form of programming referred to as Indirect Addressing and he uses a hell of a lot of it. Anyone who has ever written much computer code probably understands my reference (and internal groaning).
He uses a lot of it and frankly, I admit his programming style is kind of beautiful in it's way. His logic code is very complexly woven and damn impressive.
I saw that complex and impressive code for the first time today and got about two hours of instruction. The guy who pissed dirty has months of hard worn experience with this system.
"Nothing should go wrong with this half of the machine. Call me if you need me, I should answer."
We are two complete days into the new production run. Nothing terrible has gone wrong. Despite the incredible shrinking launch window and not enough time to do bloody anything...the damn thing is chugging along well and making cars at a rapid rate.
Management has not screamed in two days. They have been smiling.
It's eerie. Things Never Go This Well. EVER. The entire crew has taking to suspiciously knocking on wood whenever someone says anything about how well the last two days have been.
Scientific, educated, mature, experienced computer programmers KNOCKING ON WOOD whenever positive comments are spoken. (And wood is hard to find in automotive automation).
OK. I am not going to even attempt to try to absorb anymore of the structure of this program tonight. If sh*t hits the fan tomorrow, I am simply going to have to be brilliant.
Everything will be fine...right? The alternative being I lose out on three to four months of highly lucrative contract work with options on future projects that run on for at least a year.
I will simply be be brilliant.
Damn it.
I love you, wife. I love our son. No matter what.
Good night all.