The IT Guy

I witnessed something rather strange today. It was strange in the sense that the IT guy who came into our lecture, somewhere in its middle, was an alien to every other student in the lecture theatre except for me. I actually knew this boy. And I say 'boy' with intent.

A couple of years ago, not knowing which path to head on in my life in terms of career possibilities, my father recommended that I tried out an Advanced Diploma in Information Technology. I was a digital native, the computer was my oyster and I had nothing else, nothing to lose either because all the course would cost me was two-hundred dollars, which my mother offered to pay, so I figured, why not?

And so I applied for the course, was accepted, and enrolled. The first day was pretty great because the class was divided almost equally, in terms of gender. I felt comfortable. The week went by and the numbers of females began to drop dramatically. Soon, after three or so weeks, I was the only female left in a class of around sixteen males. During computer tests, they would email me the codes. I remember distinctly when we were asked to create a pizza ordering system under test conditions and an email was sent around from computer to computer, we were more intelligent in that than at anything else.

I passed with flying colours. Project management was easy. Programming was easy with a little help from the boys. Web design was the best and most memorable because I created a serial killer website offering links to supplies that they would need, general things like top quality chainsaws, axes, rope and gloves. It sure as hell scared my teacher, and every boy never looked at e the same again - clearly, I was not a girl to mess with, nor talk to. They dared not get on my bad side.

During lunchbreaks we would hack into the computers outside of the classroom, the ones accessed by all students, and zoom the screens in so much so that the login page was utterly unaccessible. We would then reserve around three computers which we left alone and used to play Counter Strike together. I soon learned to shoot really well and it became a ritualistic happening. It seemed like we would be playing Counter Strike forever, with no worries in mind.

Soon enough, Networking class came along. And naturally, I was the only one who struggled. Nobody managed to help me in this class because our teacher caught on quite quickly that people were prone to helping me. I was on my own, and having not known a thing about 'pinging' or connecting computers to invisible platforms called 'servers', I failed that class alone and never turned up again. I had passed every other class perfectly, and this class was no exception. I was no match for CISCO and had I not had a sexist teacher, I would have been, for 'help' was not a word in his elaborative dictionary filled with nerdy terms. 

Looking back on those days, there were three boys who stood out from the rest, three boys who thought they were better than everyone else, the 'alpha-males' of the computer world. I remember two of their names, Andrew and Goldie. The third I cannot remember, though I do remember he played soccer games when he was meant to be paying attention, yet managed to pass everything. The trio would not associate themselves with the rest of the class, and would spend lunchbreaks playing with a soccer ball in the carpark outside of our building.

Andrew was the IT guy today. As I sat there in the lecture, being exposed to pedagogies and creative ways around the school curriculum, I watched him fiddle with mere sound controls, things that I could have done without any diploma. He did the same things over and over - to the inexperienced eye, it looks professional, but I knew better. I shook my head. He then shrugged his shoulders, said he would be back later, and left the room - clearly he was going to Google the problem, or ask for help from his elders.

It is funny where life can lead you, and it is despicable how close-minded people can veer so far away. I bet he did not even remember who I was. Hey, Andrew! I used to sit behind you. I know you own a BMW, do not think highly of yourself because I also know that it belongs to your grandfather. Perhaps pursuing a soccer career would have proved more rewarding. It is nice to see that you have found a pair of pants that do not hang off your ankles and waft around because they are too short.