Wednesday, June 01, 2005
George G. was a trainee who was brought into a diagnostic prgramming group with all signs pointing to an outstanding programming career. He had just received a Master's degree in Mathematics with honors, and only two of the other seven team members had even gone to a university. The team was working on a real-time diagnistics for a military computer, and George was assigned to write the diagnostics for the high-speed drum, which was a critical part of the system. Although this was his first real program, he developed an ingenious scheme in which the program wrote all ones on the drum and then, by analysing the patterns of zeros read back, could indicate the exact circuit that was failing.
George received high praise for this work, praise that he didn't need because he was fully aware of how superior it was to the unimaginative work of his fellows. Indeed, George lost no opportunity of telling them about their shortcommings, as reflected in the clumsiness of their program when compared with the grace of this. In a very short time, a serious crisis was brewing in the team, and several members began to look for a way to push George out - while several others, of a different bent, began to seek new positions for themselves. Then fate intervened in the form of a visit from some military brass to inspect the new hardware.
Great preparations were made for the inspection, but when the brass arrived, the computer could not be made to function. The diagnostics had all been run successfully, but the other software would not work at all. The diagnostics were rerun, but again they worked and the regular programs did not. At this point, the military was getting rather petulant, and management was growing furious. Then, somebody chanced to walk behind the main frame and noticed a cable lying loose. When he casually inquired what it was, the problem was solved. The drum had not been connected to the system!
The drum was hooked on, and the military was soothed with a fine demonstration and a lunch well oiled with marinis. Long after they were gone, however, the programmers on the team were still getting theirs back at George. He had failed to take into acount the behavior of the drum interface when the drum was not on-line. The system was designed to give an interrupt if an unattached device was selected, but George had masked that off. If the interrupt was masked, a write was sumply ignored and a read produced a string for all ones. Thus, George's marvelous program had a simply indicated that all was well with the drum, even though it was not even attached.
It was a blunder that any programmer could make, and it was easily patched up. Not so George's ego, for the other programmers took every possible opportunity to rib him. Perhaps if he hadn't claimed such infallibility, his fall from the heights might not have hurt so much; but as it was, George couldn't take it. After two weeks, he simply failed to show up on Monday morning, and that was the last time anyone ever heard of George G."
From "The psychology of computer programming" (1971) by Weinberg, G. M
I have met some Georges at work ... what about you?
George received high praise for this work, praise that he didn't need because he was fully aware of how superior it was to the unimaginative work of his fellows. Indeed, George lost no opportunity of telling them about their shortcommings, as reflected in the clumsiness of their program when compared with the grace of this. In a very short time, a serious crisis was brewing in the team, and several members began to look for a way to push George out - while several others, of a different bent, began to seek new positions for themselves. Then fate intervened in the form of a visit from some military brass to inspect the new hardware.
Great preparations were made for the inspection, but when the brass arrived, the computer could not be made to function. The diagnostics had all been run successfully, but the other software would not work at all. The diagnostics were rerun, but again they worked and the regular programs did not. At this point, the military was getting rather petulant, and management was growing furious. Then, somebody chanced to walk behind the main frame and noticed a cable lying loose. When he casually inquired what it was, the problem was solved. The drum had not been connected to the system!
The drum was hooked on, and the military was soothed with a fine demonstration and a lunch well oiled with marinis. Long after they were gone, however, the programmers on the team were still getting theirs back at George. He had failed to take into acount the behavior of the drum interface when the drum was not on-line. The system was designed to give an interrupt if an unattached device was selected, but George had masked that off. If the interrupt was masked, a write was sumply ignored and a read produced a string for all ones. Thus, George's marvelous program had a simply indicated that all was well with the drum, even though it was not even attached.
It was a blunder that any programmer could make, and it was easily patched up. Not so George's ego, for the other programmers took every possible opportunity to rib him. Perhaps if he hadn't claimed such infallibility, his fall from the heights might not have hurt so much; but as it was, George couldn't take it. After two weeks, he simply failed to show up on Monday morning, and that was the last time anyone ever heard of George G."
From "The psychology of computer programming" (1971) by Weinberg, G. M
I have met some Georges at work ... what about you?
Labels:
story
Posts
