How did you finish work yesterday?
I was in a roof garden in central London, sipping champagne under the early evening sun with the rest of my office, because we delivered a major project on time, on spec and on budget.
The day before — Sunday — we worked from 2pm to 1am to square away the last few bugs and last-minute feature requests, and instead of abandoning us to get on with it, my bosses were there with us, sharing the load and providing advice and encouragement.
When we got hungry, a curry was provided from the nearby tandoori and we ate on the roof as the sun set, then got back on the job. On Friday night, when we stayed until 11, it was a Chinese. My boss even went to pick it up for us. And at the end of the night, when we’d finally run out of steam, a taxi home on the company tab.
The point I’m trying to make here, misty-eyed eulogising aside, is that despite giving up my weekend to write code, Sunday night was a pretty spectacular high point. It was a warm affirmation — not that I needed one — that i was in the right place, doing the right job, and we were all mucking in together and getting things done.
It wasn’t so long ago that, in what now seems like an entirely other professional life, I was running around like a blue-arsed fly on errands for a boss who thought nothing of starting his workday at 11am before disappearing for a 3-hour lunch.
This, on the other hand, is the developer equivalent of extra biscuits and a bone for the well-behaved doggy. It makes me wonder why we ever put up with anything less.
More on how I had the good fortune to get this job in a future post. Suffice to say, I’m not that special, and you can do it too. Just don’t take my job… please?
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