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Hey John . . . (part II)

Where our story left off: a bunch of us were sitting around in my basement, consuming beer and shooting the breeze. George, CEO of a fairly large company, Chris, a computer-savvy psychologist, Paul, Jeff and myself, a writer and production manager.

"One of the interesting things about computers is that not only are they alive, but they think of themselves as gods," said Paul, determined to keep me on the defensive.

"Paul is right," Chris jumped in. He's a clever son-of-a-gun and took off on this new track like a religious inquisitor sniffing a heathen. I was in deep doodoo.

"They have a priesthood, a formal set of rites, a religious language and religious texts, they promise great rewards to the faithful and sudden doom to the apostates. In addition there are sects and schisms leading to holy wars of a particularly vicious nature. The crusades were never as volatile as the Macintosh/DOS wars." Chris was on a roll. I was on my third beer.

"Look at the priesthood for instance. The programmers are the high priests, the only ones who can talk directly with the 'gods' in the secret language. And the local priests are the applications staff. Have you ever seen some poor user making a confession? 'Forgive me, father, for I have sinned. I have not made regular backups, I have smoked while around the computer, I spilled coffee on my floppy and I have not cleaned out my old files.'

"And the applications person looks at the penitent, sits down at the computer, fiddles for a while and then says 'You're OK now, but for your act of contrition you must backup every week, and attend a new-users class.' " I just spilled my beer.

"You know," George said thoughtfully, 'that would explain a great deal. I had wondered why the yo-yos in data processing were such arrogant SOBs. They think they have an open line to the heavens. This is going to help me a great deal with those fools in the future."

I looked up. "Tread carefully, George." I paused. "Do you like having the sales report on your desk every morning at nine?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"Think well and deeply before offending the high priests," I counseled. "Unlike the other gods, these can act swiftly to punish unbelievers. How many weeks of computer problems would it take to totally screw up your business?"

"Not many," George agreed, reluctantly.

"Remember, like most businesses today you are very dependent upon computers for your competitive advantage. Hell, you need computers now just to stay even. My advice is don't piss-off the gods. In fact, you might consider a little judicious workshop on the side, just to be safe."

We broke up a little later. Chris hung around for a few minutes, and as we sipped coffee he asked, "Do you think I'm right?"

"I don't know," I admitted, "But it all makes a little bit too much sense for me to feel comfortable."

Before I went to bed that night, I lefty a small pile of sand and a battery in front of my computer. An offering. And I don't turn it off anymore.