How I Became a Techie Writer

When I was in kindergarten, I asked for a typewriter for Christmas. I remember randomly pounding on the keys to produce something that looked to me like perfect copy. It was, however, more like what publishers would call greeking. I spent my lunch hours in junior high school designing fonts on the Apple IIe (as well as programming text based adventure games). I took fiction writing classes in high school at the local community college and wrote my first novel on loose-leaf paper in between classes and during lunch hour. (It was a fantasy adventure with dragons, magic, and swords. What can I say...I was a boy.) When I began attending the University of Kansas, I majored in anthropology and linguistics.

Anthropology and linguistics?

Okay, so maybe I veered from my interests a little, but I sure liked it! The reasons I chose the major may not have been all that enlightened. All I can say without total embarrassment is that my choice had something to do with the movie Stargate: Egyptologist (read anthropologist) who studies ancient Egyptian (read linguist) gets to play with aliens. It made perfect sense at the time! Toss in a minor interest in East Asian culture and society, and you arrive at the mixed bag of classes that made up my college career. But I was enjoying myself, and I was learning a lot. (Life Lesson One learned: Do something you like, otherwise you'll regret it later.)

As my time at school came to a close, I staked most of my hopes on heading off to Japan to teach English as a second language through a government-sponsored program, after which I planned to go into graduate school to continue on with anthropology. As a back-up plan, I half-heartedly sent off applications to enter grad school immediately if I didn't get into the program. Well, I DIDN'T get into the program, nor did I get into grad school. (Life Lesson Two learned: Put effort into back-up plans too, because you never know).

So, there I was in Kansas.

Repeat:

There I was in KANSAS.

While I love Kansas, there isn't a job market for anthropologists, especially ones who studied East Asian culture and society. My only hope at the time was a customer service job with Hallmark. Not something I wanted to do. I was desperate. (Life Lesson Three learned: Go to college to study what you like, but make sure you can make a living doing it.)

My friend, a computer geek who majored in engineering (lucky scum), landed a job at Intel in Folsom. So, I begged and pleaded my friend to let me tag along. I left Jayhawker territory and headed off for the land of high tech jobs without a car, about 300 dollars to my name, no job, and thousands of dollars of student loans lurking outside the light of a six month grace period.

My future was so bright, I had to wear shades.

As soon as I arrived in Sacramento, I began posting my resume on Internet job boards, sending my resume to local companies, and trolling the Sacramento Bee for anything that resembled work. A few weeks went by. My money began running out. Let's face it, it's tough to get a job in a city you have just moved to when you have neither a car nor experience. Well, I did have job experience. Among other jobs, I had spent about 3 years in college as stir fry chef at the dormitory commons. (I told you I was interested in East Asian culture and society.) That allowed me to land a position at Chili's as the nighttime fry cook. The job would pay the bills, but wouldn't leave me much money for a car. Luckily, the place was within biking distance.

A couple of days later, my friend went to Amsterdam for a conference and left his car in my kind care. That's when I got a call from the documentation manager at a local high tech company. He was busy building a new documentation department from scratch and wanted to interview me as an entry level writer. I suited up for the interview, slapped together a makeshift portfolio, and was in his office about thirty minutes later. Dominos pizza would have been impressed.

I interviewed with the manager. Then interviewed with his boss. Then interviewed with his boss's boss. I went home feeling pretty good about the whole thing. I was told that the job was pretty much mine, but they'd have to get back with me. They needed to talk amongst themselves. Their topic--me.

Meanwhile, back at my career at Chili's, I was learning the ins-and-outs of deep frying as the only English speaker on a team that worked in a dynamic, fast-paced environment. On my first Saturday night, the two fry cooks who were supposed to help me called in sick. A few cooks also failed to show up. We got slammed. The customers, and consequently the servers, were impatient and easily angered. The manager was unsympathetic. I fell behind and never really caught up. It was quite possibly one of the most miserable times I have spent at a job; and I have served dormitory food to college students! In the back of my head, I kept thinking that I would be getting a job as a technical writer so why should I put myself through this.

I quit that night.

The following Wednesday night, I received a call from the documentation manager. He wanted me to start the following morning. (Life Lesson Four learned: Sometimes taking a risk benefits your short term AND long term happiness. Utilitarians, rejoice!) As I departed on my second post-college career, I realized I really liked being a technical writer. It was fun. I was documenting some pretty exciting software. I was using some pretty exciting software. I was making pretty good money; more than the fry cook career that's for sure. And I was writing. I was doing something that I've always wanted to do, and I was making money at it. I liked it so much, I started up my own Web site about it. That was the the precursor to the site you're visiting now.

After a few months on the job, I asked my manager why he had hired me. He pointed to two things. First, I had graduated in the top 10% of my class. I had written a one-hundred page undergraduate honors thesis in anthropology. That impressed him. Second, I was able to get to the interview in a matter of minutes on no notice. That impressed him even more. Little did he know that it was only by dumb luck that I happened to have access to a car that day. (Life Lesson Five learned: While you can plan your life, events conspire to take you in different directions.) I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I hadn't had the car. I might still be making Awesome Blossoms at Chili's.