“According to me there are only three commands”


Remarked a senior engineer from one of our would be customers when asked to help us solve some configuration issues with a telecom equipment considering the fact that this equipment has BILLION PARTS and has over 6 million lines of code in the OS that can do some crazy things. Bearing the status of a chief equipment trainer, having 14 glorious years of disgusting work lifestyle which has sucked him into a constant vaccum, where he feels even his kids will end of learning those three commands in a few years, was our best pal for 50 days from April to end of May 2006…. End of life was a thought that came repeatedly through introspection when the junk was waking up from its sleep… And when the daily soap’s over we used to be preached with the following line from the Bible of Mediation, chapter 1 clause 50 “ I am going home because my bus leaves at 5:35 and if I miss it I will reach home at the 2-O’Clocks” --- The grammar is intentional .

My self and my colleague Mr K have spent a large part of our time this year trying to integrate legacy equipment with a transaction processing system that boasts of modernity and muscle. From putting up a proposal to build, test and approve the system to finally pushing the butts of bureaucrats in the higher offices, we have done it in all levels. All this for some thing that the customer wants from us. Remember we are not hard selling our software like Phenol at your door-step. And neither is this software as miscible as Phenol in water to wipe out your operational diseases. We are talking about enterprise grade software that manages Billions of transactions and generates a few million $ in revenue ever day and some thing that competitors will die for.

Certain companies have employees that are like ageing country side wine. Only country side people love it and is only valuable to the next generation born in the country side. However they emanate an odour so strong makes you believe that you are a useless piece of the system even with all the advanced computing degrees, project management training and global customer experience, which BTW was the talk of the department when you joined your company. This wine can only be served with resilience as main course combined with a dish of hard boiled politics and finally washed up with frozen ego the size of a single elephantine dung ball passed out at precisely 12 noon on any given summer day. Believe me there are healthier menus available for these people, but some how India is the land of spicy food, burning your tongue every day so why not burn your rectum as well.

India is a junkyard for technology companies from the west, sell it here when its off the catalog there, needless to say we are in the business of integrating junk… alternate professions for me and my colleague K are as curators in the museums of these junk dealing technology companies when they go bankrupt. Our country has been a quick learner of technology and we as shining stars of this incredible revolution mastered a rare piece of junk called the OCB283 – No guesses for what it is, and please don’t email me asking what it is and I cant offer you consultation as I am busy brewing my own country wine to knock out the rest of the IT generation who will walk up to me in the Junk museum asking me --- “What is that creature in the window.” ….. A mighty BURP for 3 seconds … a few lives have been destroyed already --- No…. no this was just a simulation in my virtual memory.. So read on.

So it was 9am to 5:15pm every day for two months that me and K went to this huge facility to pay our daily respects to the giant junk god. I lived in a family home and drove 30 Kms to the destination while K lived in a shady hotel with a broken commode with the view of the most famous sewer in suburban Mumbai and was picked up by me enroute to the facility. K must have never done so much of introspection those few days where at a point he came to believe that Fredrick Forsythe and Sydney Sheldon were two African mosquitoes trying to mate with each other and create a mutant species that will take over the world by integrating their ovarian sacs with legacy equipment. “Oh my GOD” … “ Sol get me some Odomos when you come tomorrow”

The facility was never used in a hundred years, and there were no plans of using it for another 200 but still we were made to feel as if we are breathing air doused with gold dust while we are there. So started the chain of events to suck up to management to get us extension for the testing, emotionally bribing the lab staff for time extension and politically grinning at the higher bosses telling them techno cockroaches were actually interfering with the data transfer and mice in the facility were actually taking offence with their sexier electronic cousins and had murdered a few by severing the lifeline attached to our computers in the server room. Right from cables to connectors to software parameters we discovered what the customer was required to know like the back of his hand. We had enough material to write a thesis and win a nobel prize but we looked at our buddy and decided that there are indeed “only three commands” in this world for the junk god and decided that he continue as the uncrowned king of the OCB world.

What I am trying to say is that with all the legacy systems around I feel I am in the right job, today's technology is tomorrows legacy and IF I live to see that tomorrow, I still have a job trying to fix that legacy.


My boss while hiring me asked one vital question – “What is the difference between Indian and international customers” -- I said – “The angle at which you bend.” This time it was 45 Degrees. For K it was the 13th or 14th time. :)