Laura Gilbert (2:26)
As a child, I was unconfident in new situations, so my parents repeatedly gave me the advice Fake it till you make it. So much so that I, as an adult now feel like this is sort of stamped onto me like a birthmark. So when my current manager told me that it was time to add me to the on call rotation, while hearing this struck terror into the depths of my very being, I responded by aggressively agreeing with how good of an idea this was. I am a software engineer at a tech company. Which is a sentence that still feels really unnatural to say, because my tenure both at this company and as a software engineer at all is nine months prior to the pandemic, I was a freelance dancer and improviser. And then when everything changed for everybody in 2020, I found myself looking for new ways to make a living. And I had taken a few computer science classes in high school and I remembered really liking it. So I enrolled in a free week long online Intro to JavaScript course. And in the beginning, every piece of code I wrote was riddled with errors. But that's when I discovered what I think is the best kept secret of software engineering. Which is if you sit there long enough and you read each error, which is just the computer trying to explain to you its experience, you can fix everything. And at the time in the world, I could do frustratingly nothing to fix any of the very big things happening. But within the confines of my coding environment, every crisis that surfaced was something that I could do something about. So I enrolled in an online coding boot camp and I was fortunate enough to get a job afterwards. Which leads us to now, nine months into this job, where I very much feel like someone who has snuck into a movie theater without paying and is just waiting for someone to figure out that I don't belong there. Because there is a not small piece of me that really believes that for the past nine months, I've just sort of been keeping up this charade, relying on a presentation of competence and intelligence, because surely I am not capable of doing the job that I have. I am firmly in the fake it phase of the fake it till you make it timeline. Every meeting I attend is full of people with multiple advanced computer science degrees. And I am also there. I mean, there's just. And now we've reached this. Here's the thing, there's really just not enough evidence to disprove my current working theory that the only reason I am where I am is because I am, like, nice and outrageously lucky. So now we've reached this point nine months in, and it's a pivotal moment, and it's the moment that I am certain is going to bring down this house of cards illusion of competence I've been building up, because this is the thing I cannot fake. Being on call means being the person in charge of keeping my team's piece of the Internet alive for seven full days, 168 hours. Being on call means you take your work phone and your laptop with you everywhere. You shower with your phone on the toilet seat because there are very specific time limits within which you must respond to alerts. Behind the scenes, there are all these automated systems kind of tracking the health of the software. And if any of these indications sort of starts to trend wonky, it triggers a page to the on caller so we can get some human eyes on the issue. And last Monday, those human eyes were mine. So it's four in the morning and I'm lying in bed with my work phone right next to my ear, turned to volume 100, as though I am not already sleeping the feather light sleep of an animal being hunted. And my phone goes off. I'm being paged. So immediately I'm like a frothing mess of anxiety. I'm moving so quickly, I'm basically summoning objects to me. My glasses are whizzing onto my face, my Crocs are zooming onto my feet so I can more quickly run to my laptop. I get to my laptop, all these bizarro sensations are happening. My wrists are sweating, my teeth are chattering. I'm opening my laptop, I'm looking at the monitoring dashboards because something very bad is happening and it's on me to fix it. I want you all to be able to picture the monitoring dashboards. So I'm going to ask you to picture, you know, the Cave of Wonders from Aladdin, but it's just graphs in there. So I'm clicking into the graphs. I'm kind of like, I'm sort of sorting by dimension, I'm narrowing things down, refining. I'm seeing clues. It's like being a graph detective, really. You're seeing spikes and you're kind of piecing the clues together. I'm on the trail, but it's a nonlinear trail. I'm following a lot of red herrings. And at some point in this process of synthesizing this information, a point that I don't even really clock, my teeth stop chattering. Because in this moment, it turns out that the antidote to anxiety is not calmness, it's curiosity. Something really bad is happening and I wonder if I can fix it. And over the next few hours, I helped fix the broken thing. And it was this super interesting reminder that this has always felt like the part of the job that I didn't have to fake, this desire to sit down and stay seated until everything's better. And there are so many parts of this job that still feel so unnatural. Like anytime I go into the office I feel like I'm in a movie. I'm like, oh, here I am badging in and using the elevator. But maybe all these experiences together don't mean I'm faking it. Maybe this is just what making it looks like for me right now. My on call shift ended yesterday at 2pm and while I can't say that I'm not nervous about my next one, I'm trying to reframe it a little bit. Because maybe being on call is like this high stakes, nerve wracking opportunity to kind of get back in touch with sort of the beautiful privilege of software engineering, which is when something is really broken, like maybe I can help fix it. Thank you.