When Gary walked off his job, he brought home ten boxes of computer books. He had assembled that library over his entire career: whenever he heard of a new language or software, he’d buy a book on it in case he might need to use it later. After he quit and/or retired (quitired?), he moved all the books into our basement, because you can’t just toss out a collection it took years to amass.
A few months later, I was working at home and on a conference call with my team, who needed someone to learn a programming language called PL/SQL. “Not me,” I said. “That is way over my head.” Others insisted. I continued to protest.
I heard Gary get out of bed, scuttle around in the basement, and then a few minutes later he was in the doorway with three PL/SQL books.
“Oh all right,” I told my team, “My husband seems to think I can learn PL/SQL.” Which I did, eventually, using his books and the Internet. That was five years ago.
I used the PL/SQL on a project that was supplanted by SharePoint. People at work seemed to think it would be good for me to bone up on SharePoint. I came home and complained about that to Gary. This time I didn’t even notice when he went into the basement, but he materialized again with SharePoint for Dummies and the SharePoint Administrator’s Manual.
I kept the Dummies book, then said, “Get that Administrator’s manual away from me. I’m not doing that. They don’t even want me to do that. One of them wants me to learn C++ so I can program it.”
I didn’t learn to program in C++. That was a mistake, because this past week I’ve been researching Augmented Reality software, and I really should have learned C++.
I complained about that to Gary, who said, “I have a C++ book in the basement.”
His confidence in me knows no bounds.