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Do you consider yourself a signor? Who are you kidding



My friend once again explained to someone in a street smoking room how C # works. I took a sip of coffee, lit a cigarette and leaned on the fence to listen. He told me what interesting subtleties he found in the garbage collector. He says that in the subnet it is arranged quite simply from the outside, but very tricky in the implementation details.

I did not get alarmed - I just listened and shook my mustache. It was 11 in the morning, I just closed the ticket that was expected from me tomorrow, and could spend the rest of the day wandering around the office. Vityan has always been a very pumped guy. He smuggled into roslin, studied the sorts of all the tools that he used, and really deeply rummaged in the internet. I knew - to me before him as to the moon. But for some reason, we still had the same positions and salaries.

I suggested that he take a look at the test one, which, for the sake of jokes, was done for one vacancy, although I did not think about seriously changing the job. What kind of programmer doesn’t want to look at the code? We went to watch. I opened the main file with the code, a second passes.

“Your memory is flowing here.”

Yes, I read about tail recursion, but I didn’t read that there is no such optimization in subnet. He quickly threw me a dozen take, I corrected everything and sent a test to the employer. I remembered that in addition to the assignment, I also had to pass an English test and throw a screenshot with the results. Zero problems, my good friend knows the language very well - asked him to get through, but not too perfect.

They told me to look in the evening. There was a lot of free time, but the developer will always find what to do with himself. I suggested to the most enormous colleague to argue who will gobble up more pizza. The loser pays the bills. When you get ridiculous money, which is still not enough for anything, it is not particularly and a pity to lose it. I transferred all the expenses of an adult to my parents, and I ate the salary in the office or with my wife - at last I at least earn something, I can just order myself three pizzas! For the rest of the day I sat like a seal, switching the vidos with greasy fingers - one more ridiculous than the other.

A surprise awaited at home - the test went. They wrote that a good code, scheduled an interview. I crap kapets - what other interview on Signora, my god, they will smear me. I am a june, who, out of politeness, is called a middle. I really don’t know how to do anything. But I think that when I grow up, there will be social security, too, and now I’ll at least find out what is required. I'll see how this happens.

First they asked about my experience. I talked about the current work, coolly embellished the experience and my contribution. Well, why not? They won’t take me anyway, and at least the social security will last longer.

The first few technical questions were easy - the difference between significant types from reference types, data types in a sycharpe, basic OOP, design patterns. My company had internal exams, and I was trained as a monkey to answer such questions. Solid principles - I didn’t understand them then, I don’t really understand them now - but I was able to mumble something in response, decipher the abbreviation, and pour water in the style: “duplication of code is bad, inheritance must be applied carefully, files with the code should be small ".

I felt - the screening is over, now serious things will go, and I am finished.

- Philip, can you talk about garbage collection in the Internet?

Oh, how could he. My novice brains do not understand much, but I have a good memory, and I remembered the story from the smoking room almost word for word. Somewhere in the middle, I realized that the interviewer still doesn’t know how it works. Fine. He finished the story, and, feeling the initiative, began to talk about F #. At my work, I often had to wait for eternal builds, and sometimes I really self-educated. F # man also did not know, so just listened. I finished, and they told me that I would do.

What? WHAT?

- Philip, you have not indicated the expected salary in the resume, we are ready to offer THOUSAND THOUSAND DOLLARS.

I blurted out “agree” faster than I could figure out how many times this is more than my current sn. Closed skype, counted. And fucked up. This is what happens - now I am a remoter, a signor and a rich man? That is, I can go now, throw my four out, take a Merc on credit and drive around my semi-rural city? Yes. It turns out that all my former colleagues are dumb, and I found a way.

I won, solved all my problems and took place as a person, because with half-joking hands I did a test and remembered the monologue in the smoking room? Yes.


I quickly unscrewed from my old job, equipped my workplace at home, and began to get used to my new role. I myself did not really believe that everything had changed so drastically, and it seemed that it was urgent to start acting differently. From that moment, everything that I said began with the words "As a person who receives $ 3k, I think ...".

I notified everyone I could. Remember, Phil is a smart and successful guy. I began to give advice to everyone, because now only I understood how life works. I taught my younger cousin that only idiots are good at school. So I did not study, and everything is cool with me - you have to be like me.

At first I clearly understood that I got a job by chance. But the tasks did not turn out to be rocket science, and I understood how to solve them. I didn’t want to, but I understood. When I received the money for the first time, it seems that I have completely lost touch with reality. And I really believed that I became an extra-class professional. Pretty old technology was used at that job, and I quickly decided that such a tough guy like me wasn’t rank to mess around in this shit. I sent them to hell, and I did the same trick with another work - a little better - already holy believing that I really deserve it. And then with one more. And further.

Everywhere I was calmly tucked up on the signor / host, everywhere I could carry out tasks somewhere on the verge when they still haven’t written to you that you need to seriously talk, but they’re already going. And I easily explained this to myself - the tasks are uninteresting, I do not want to do them. A dumb business hurries me because he doesn't give a shit about quality. The processes are broken, I alone understand how everything should work - but I won’t tell them. This is not my war. I’ll look for normal work so far.

But there wasn’t any “normal” work. At each of my works, except the very first, office, in the end I terribly burned out without doing anything special. I don’t know what would happen if I honestly figurated my eight hours a day as best I could. I like to program, but sometimes I couldn’t get myself to sit at the computer for a week. The work was torture, because it was not enough for me to simply download the code and close the ticket. I was subconsciously afraid that if I did something wrong, they would all understand. I was fired a couple of times from work, but never because of the poor quality of the code. Because I really could do a pop-up for a week. If only everything were perfect at my level of understanding.

I received decent money, I had a convenient schedule, and work that was easy to do interesting if desired, but I was deeply unhappy. And blamed it on the boobs that surrounded me. Since I cannot work, give out good performance, and be happy - that means the world around is not right. And these bastards with their smiles only increase the irregularity. I began to feel sick from any person from the industry who was rubbing something about success, teamwork, the value of the product and stuff like that.

I was unhappy, angry and arrogant. I walked around like a pompous peacock and taught everyone around me - do it, not like that. Use your dumb head. Fools, don’t try to smile, this industry is a rotting trash. Your golang is dog shit. Php trash. Javists are stuck in the past. OOP - for idiots. C #, which feeds me, is a funny work, only a repulsed moron will use it for a serious project.

When the reality around you is designed to be smart, and you're really dumb, you start pretending to be smart. And for the other person to believe that you are smarter, the easiest way is to prove to him that he is stupid. What I did. Moreover, I subconsciously understood what this was connected with, but it only strengthened the feeling that I did not belong here. And this feeling intensified the anger.


A week ago, Drugan and I thumped on Skype, as we always went through a moronic industry, in which everything is not as it should. We talked about types and IoC containers - and Pasha says

- And by the way, I write an interesting framework for .net core, I have dependency inversion implemented an order of magnitude more convenient than my own.

Pasha rummaged around the screen, and for the next four hours I watched what an awesome system looked like, which I would never have thought of building - and if I had thought of it, I would definitely not have built it; what a developer I’ll never be like. And what, your mother, is the gigantic difference between the vypendrezhny Ivanovo fool and a real signor with 10+ experience.

The framework, in my amateurish opinion, is very cool. I would tell you exactly what and how it was done, but, firstly, Pashok wants to do it himself, and secondly, I am not intelligent enough for this. I praised his work, admired the details that caught me, dropped the call. And he sat down to fuck. The bastard is a hundred times cooler than me.

He is signor, I am signor, we have the same sn. I’ll even be heavier on the market - the articles do their job - but gods, how much he knows. And he knows how, damn it, to use it.

This is not the first time I meet more knowledgeable coders, but I always said to myself: “These mutts memorize a dock, but I can think. I’ll learn everything you need, the main thing is that I can learn and analyze. ” The blurry phrase "I can think" has always been my calling card. This skill cannot be objectively verified, therefore all who know me were divided into those who believe and those who do not. The second I wrote to dumbasses.

But Pashok actually demonstrated that he knows how to think better. And he knows more.

I remembered how people admired my test implementation on that first interview. I went into the repository to console myself - and there is the June govnokod. Very, very bad. It seems that they used the test, just to understand whether I am a programmer at all. I managed to drag out the interview itself, because by nature it’s not bad in rhetoric. I can direct the conversation where I need to. And the interviewee apparently rightly believed that the junes would not come to such a vacancy.

But when they started tapping me, I almost instantly believed - everything was all about the case. I am now signor.


My journalist friend constantly overwrites me, supposedly we, the developers, close any incomprehensible situation with a stub, which we call objectivity. And then we ourselves believe that we defeated the chaos and put everything in order.

Here we have clearly indicated which grades to divide people into and by what criteria where to write whom to. They shook off their hands, looked and decided that there was no more problem. And now, remember how many yellow holes call themselves signors. They came to their galleys, they drove them there for six years with task for sixes, and then - to cure the boys burnout - they solemnly raised them to a new word so that they would not run away to the neighboring galley (where they had been luring them with this word for a long time).

But here the small fry meets grumblers on the Internet who do not believe in his signoriness and want to put in place, and thinks - “these are their subjective assessments. “Objectively, I am a signor, since they appointed me, they gave me tasks and paid a lot of money.”

They are not that much of a problem. So, a little splinter in the ass, a reason for the real engineers to grumble. They simply believed in a system that gives them a pleasant status, and did not harm anyone. The problem is me. I made the system believe in myself, although I myself know that to the status of the signor, to the signor’s money and tasks I still have to crawl and crawl. But since the system believed so, then it is no longer necessary to crawl anywhere.

I hate conclusions - but they are. This fucking three-stage grade should go to the trash yesterday. If now the generally accepted system of grades of fifteen - 90% of dudes in the industry would not have reached the fourth level. The tales that Russia is so cool, “because only here you can become a super-hyper-duper leader up to 30 years old” - also in the trash.

That's when under the word signor from the box they will represent not a small bearded man in a bright sweater, but an evil uncle of about forty years old - and then we'll talk. And now, my dear friends of the Signora, let us confess that we didn’t see the real Signor’s tasas, we will join hands together and go to hell.


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