One of my closest friends read one of these posts. And now my mobile is threatening to explode. My friends are having a biiiiig laugh. And one of them rang my sister. Now
she's having a big laugh. My sister says "I dare you to tell them the truth. I dare you!"
Well sis. You know not to dare me...
What they are laughing at.
@Sully. Dude, the truth? You can't handle the truth...
I was bored one summer. My Aunt asked me if I wanted to go to work with her. She taught at the local university. I love my Aunt, so, why not. At some point during the day, I came upon the computer lab at my Aunt's suggestion -- I love computers. Cool. I was around 12-yrs-old then. This guy walked up to me wearing a lab coat. "Your Aunt told me you were coming." He showed me around. It was a bustling world inside that lab. College students' heads were about to explode. Some of those heads were very pretty. No one so much as even noticed a little kid. These funny looking cards were all over the floor. Everywhere. It was a mess.
I came to learn that they were punch cards. The old IBM punch cards used to submit computer programs to the mainframe -- called
jobs. The students from all sorts of disciplines were trying to meet deadlines. There were words of exasperation. Cuss words. Screaming. Crying. Mostly words a kid like me shouldn't have heard. I hung out in that lab the rest of the day and became a regular for the rest of that summer. Before long the sysop was letting me submit my own jobs.
A Eureka moment happened for me. I had a computer that I wanted a particular Assembler to run on. I needed it desperately. There was one available that I liked but it needed to be recompiled for my comp. If you know anything about compiling software, even by today's standards, you know it's a resource hungry monster. Certainly beyond the capabilities of my computer at 12-yrs-old.
But now I've got use of the university's mainframe!
I asked the sysop if he'd allow me some comp time. Actually, it was more like beg. "Sure kid. You get it ready and I'll run it for you when I have a job opening." I had that thing ready to go in less than a week. It took me that long because I had to keep giving up the Holler terminal to the students if they became full -- I wasn't a student.
On my first run, I got three pages of printout but the mainframe couldn't complete the job. The sysop was stunned. "Kid," (he really called me kid) "where did you learn to code? The mainframe kicked out your program because you had a lot of errors. But they all seem to be minor errors."
If you are familiar with those mainframe beasts of that era, you'd recall that if your program had an error it was
********Stopped********
with this single line description on a page. After waiting anxiously while staring at the clock indicating when those needed results were due for your next class. Incomplete runs could mean a failing grade. Period. I got three pages on my very first run -- unheard of -- with a lot of error codes. The sysop loaned me his manual. I fixed the program and later got a complete run. I had myself a compiled Assembler ready for my computer. It worked!
This brought me to the attention of the sysop. He continued to let me play with the mainframe. In return, I kept the lab cleaned.
One day the lab was hectic. People everywhere. I didn't get any time that day. One girl was typing her cards up. She must have had close to 200 cards. Her stack was about a fifth of mine and I had around 1200. They were out of rubber bands that day. Rubber bands were used to keep the pile of cards together and more importantly IN ORDER. Your job could not be run if the cards were out of order. Even one of them!
The poor girl dropped her cards. She dropped them. All over the floor and all out of order and mixed with some of the discarded ones on the floor. She lost it. Cried her eyes out. She was toast. That was a very beautiful girl to my 12-yr-old eyes. And motivation.
I borrowed the manual to the Holler machine. They were Hollerith Machines named after the cards which was named after Hollerith who invented them. (They were nicknamed Holler machines because when a room of 125 of them were going along with the noise of discussion, screaming, crying, fits, nervous breakdowns and the joyous yells of SUCCESS, you had to holler (yell) to get someone's attention) in the lab.) That same night I found a way to setup the Holler Machine to print distinguishing marks that could later be manually (by hand) reordered. I even later wrote a program that ran on the mainframe that could read the marks and reorder the cards itself. Dropping your cards was no longer a problem. You had to at least find the first 9 cards and order them. After a month or so, I rewrote the code and you didn't even have to find them.
Overnight, I became a hero to those students. They no longer called me kid. They would point me out. I got so many kisses from girls after that that I think I reached puberty much faster.
The code to do that circulated to more campuses than secrets on how to cheat. I never got paid for any of that, but it was no matter. I was just glad the pretty girls (yes and guys) were happy, because then no one would complain that a kid was hanging around the lab. I even got them to stop throwing their typos and eaten cards on the floor. (Bent cards would sometimes get eaten by the Hollerith machine which were discarded on the floor by the students along with mistyped or incorrectly typed cards which would yield syntax errors. Once the whole was punched into the card you couldn't fix it. I later fixed that too. Another story.)
Now for the meat and potatoes. As I said, I didn't get paid for that code, but it brought the sysop to really take notice of me. Shortly after, he approached me about writing some code for a friend of his in California to make some extra money. I said sure. I loved coding, had lots of free time and he promised me as much lab time as I wanted. Frankly, all I wanted was the lab time to be around the mainframe and the pretty girls. I talked to his friend over the phone. What he wanted sounded simple, to me.
Basically, he wanted me to write algorithms for him, or rewrite algorithms to run in as tight a code as possible. I couldn't believe my good fortune! My computer friends and I at the time played this game. It was like "Name That Tune."
"I can write that program in 25 lines of code," would always be the opening bid.
"I can write it in 20 lines."
"I can do it in 15." "Ok then, write that code!"
"I always won that game." And now someone was offering to pay me. When the first check arrived at my house my mother was livid. She didn't know what to think. Checks for thousands of dollars to a 12-yr-old boy? My mother questioned me like the Spanish Inquisition. Then another came. And another. And another. And another. One check came one day for three months of coding that sent my mother into shock. A lawyer was contacted, etc. etc., to make it legal.
@Sully.
By the end of that same year, those checks had totalled almost a quarter of a million dollars from various companies in California. Word of mouth spread and by the time I graduated High school, Sully, I had made over $750,000. Which put me almost half way to making the two million before graduating college that you find so hard to believe. When I attended college, my free time was at a minimum. So I only took a few projects here and there, but the bigger projects that paid well. Very well. So yes, my second million had been made
well before completing my undergrad degree. All of that code was sold. If I would have been really smart, I would have licensed it.
Upon graduating, I was inundated with offers to go to California. I had a Civil Engineering degree and I thought California would be a great place to start. I accepted work writing algorithms in the interim. I was to meet the guy who gave me my start. I landed in Silicon Valley and I was hooked. A fast paced life in those days. Money fell from the sky. Lots of money if you could code -- efficiently. And I knew several languages by then, fluently. From Basic, to Fortran, Fortran IV, C, Assembler and what was to make me
very successful... LISP.
I worked for a subsidiary of Microsoft and had amassed a few stocks. In 1999, Microsoft's stocks hit an all time high. I haven't
had to work since. And it all started for me, innocently enough, as a little kid. That story is what motivated my genius of a 12-yr-old niece.
The aforementioned Volvo I mentioned upstream was purchased with that money at 16.
A lot of people became rich working in Silicon Valley, and continue to do so. Many people got rich off of Microsoft stock too.
I continue to consult regarding the writing of algorithms from time to time. It is a passion.
You don't believe it. Fine. I can't fault you, because neither did my parents.
My brothers and sisters certainly believed it because I shared much of it with them. I bought my sisters everything. Right sis?
.