Glass Man
On Tuesday, I was sitting at my desk responding to an email when without warning, my eyebrows twitched and dozens of goose pimples formed on my neck as my body reacted to a disagreeable and breezy draft. I shivered and realized that there were cars honking while a strange and unfamiliar voice said, “Well, if I don’t make it, tell my wife I love her.”
Immediately, I snapped up like a rubber-necked prairie dog and found a strange man on a wobbly ladder dangling out the 4th story window. Instantly, I knew what was going on. Earlier that day, our office manager told me the Glass Man was coming to replace a cracked window, which he had, and was performing an amazing and treacherous act of bravery in order to do his job.
My job is nothing like that. My idea of “amazing” is elegantly coercing an LCD display to draw an animated arc. My idea of “treachery” is writing code that is highly-coupled or not cohesive. My idea of “bravery” is coding a tricky algorithm to convert ballistic coordinates from 3-dimensional spherical space, to 2-dimensional cartesian, or using Internet Explorer. I don’t do cool things like hang out windows, or have regular needs to tell co-workers to convey amorous feelings to my wife “in case I don’t make it.”
Glass Man, I salute you.
