Getting a job was another story.
The girlfriend had gotten me so high on the idea of the adventure of coming to Silicon Valley, that it hadn’t occurred to me to think about what I’d actually have to do to get hooked up once we got there. I didn’t even know where to buy a bag of pot.
Sex, Drugs and Unix
|
-1-
For the first couple of years out of high school, I was living with the girlfriend in a killer apartment in Saint John. I had a job keeping the computer systems running down at the IGA, an old Valiant with four new tires, and all the time in the world for coding..
Because nobody at the IGA knew that my job took only about two hours a week and they were paying me to sit in front of a computer for thirty-seven, I was free to do what I wanted all day. For me, it was like winning the lottery. I worked on my own code and learned everything I could about whatever interested me. Aside from a lot of other technical stuff, I became an expert on an old alternative to Windows and other operating systems, called Unix.
At night, the girlfriend and I went to hockey games, drank beer down at the tavern with our friends, and occasionally visited the folks. Even though the girlfriend and I were working all the time, we never had any money in the bank. She never said much, but just got very quiet and things sometimes became a little numb between us, and there were too many nights when we did nothing but sleep. Things were obviously a little out of balance, but I didn’t know what to do to recalibrate until one day the girlfriend says, “Eddie,” we’re getting out of here and going to Silicon Valley. You may be the world’s greatest programmer, but as long as we’re living in Saint John, it won’t even buy us a plane ticket out, so we’re gonna have to drive.” |
|
 |
 |
