Happy Ada Lovelace Day, m’dear

Today is Ada Lovelace Day.

Don't know her? The only child of Lord Byron, she grew up into a talented mathematician who designed a program for Charles Babbage's Analytical Engine. The engine was never built — it was far ahead of the machining that era was capable of — but her work is honored today as the first computer program. The Ada computing language is named for her. 

The purpose of Ada Lovelace Day is to honor women in programming and computing. The idea is that these women are less well-known than their male counterparts, and that they deserve some recognition.

It''s also to celebrate those qualities women bring to the party.

I agree. Many programming shops have as many women as men in them. Programming is mainly a mental activity, something men and women can do equally well. It's not weightlifting — the sexes should compete on equal terms.

But there are some important differences, some lessons if you will, that male programmers can learn from women. I have benefited enormously from them, as you will learn when I discus my own nominee.

It is, of course, my lovely wife Jenni.

Jenni has been a programmer longer than I've been a tech journalist. She got her start the day I was pushed toward Atlanta. I'd washed out as a reporter with the late Birmingham Post-Herald, but my former employers had a position in Atlanta for me. And on that day she told me she'd gotten a job. It was a trainee position, in the IT department at a Birmingham insurance company. 

I could easily make this a love letter. It's not. I've written them before. I'll write others later.

Instead I want to tell you about two very important aspects of computer programming in which Jenni excels, skills that set her apart from most of her peers.

That's not to say she's not a good programmer. She is, very. It's not to say she's not always eager to learn new skills. She is. In her time she has gone from Assembly to Cobol to Java, and she's learning SQL fast. But that's not terribly unusual either. Lots of programmers like to learn.

These lessons are more important, and more in keeping with the idea of Ada Lovelace Day:

1. Jenni can write English.
2. Jenni gets along with people.

Writing

Writing. She thinks I taught her. I didn't. Jenni doesn't write what I write. What she mostly writes are things like functional specifications, the kinds of boring documents that programmers use to actually write programs.

Specs are incredibly important. You have to describe what the program is supposed to do precisely. And you have to make that explanation understood by another programmer, someone who programs in a completely different way.

Jenni takes some pride in her writing. She enjoyed talking about meetings involving her current project, where a team was going over specs written by a number of programmers. Some took hours to untangle. When the team found one of hers, they all smiled. They knew it would be spot-on.

There are many points in a computing project where good writing is important. Memos, e-mails, explanations of every size, scope and depth. Jenni polishes them all off quickly, efficiently, effectively. It's not what she most enjoys. What she really likes is coding. She thinks of it like crossword puzzles. She enjoys the thrill of getting it right, of making it perfect, of seeing it run. She knows her system thoroughly but does not want to be "just a SME" — a Subject Matter Expert. She's also not interested in being a manager. She calls herself a "peon."

She's not.

People

I've always believed writing is important. But what really shocked me, watching Jenni's career blossom, was the importance of getting along with people.

I'm much better across a page than I am across a table. I don't suffer fools well. I lost that job I came to Atlanta for because I was, frankly, a schmuck, a know-it-all, insufferably smug and arrogant.

Many programmers are like  that. Programming is mostly a solitary pursuit.

Jenni isn't like that. She likes people. Once she's comfortable she gets along famously well with them. Any negative feelings she has toward them she keeps to herself. (Sometimes, in private, she will vent about these to me, but I have learned over the years to have a horrible memory about such things.)

Jenni believes in TEAM. There's no I in team. If something goes wrong, she says "I made a mistake." If something goes right, "we did that." It's not false modesty. It's how she really feels.  These are her values.

Jenni also respects the talent around her. While many men will be jealous or fearful of being around other good programmers, Jenni revels in it. Yet I have watched, over 27 years, as many people whom Jenni insisted had better technical skills than she did got pushed aside while she was able to stay on.

Given a close call between a jerk who programs well and a nice person who programs nearly as well, most smart employers will go with the team player.

These skills won't do if you're not a good programmer. You need game to play. But these skills will set you apart from other good programmers. Writing and getting along will make you special, if you choose to accept this challenge and cultivate these skills. 

If you can explain yourself, if you can get along, if you're a good teammate and a good friend, you will go as far as your programming talent takes you. These are important lessons, lessons Jenni taught me, and lessons her example can teach you, too.

They're also lessons in keeping with the life of Ada herself. Ada worked in harmony with Babbage. She did not try to dominate. She got along. And she wrote well.

Like my Jenni.