Confessions of an IT Manager_Phil Factor

298 Tomorrow will be our Dancing Day
"Eventually, we got some industrial trainees in the department. They were
undergraduates, working under supervision. One of them joined Nigel's team
and took over David's computer. Things seemed to return to normal and we got
on with life.
It was a few weeks later that I was in the canteen, chatting to one of the
university lecturers who'd come to supervise the students. "Our student has
come on a lot," he said. "She used to be a bit of a plodder with her
programming; much better with business analysis. What do you think, Phil?" I
cast an eye over the printout. It was good; very good; too good; and I
recognised David's style immediately.
"Ooohhh!" said one of the great nephews, "automatic writing?"
"It gave me quite a turn I can tell you. My first thought that it was
something of David's on the hard drive they'd missed, but it was written in
response to a change request that had come in only a couple of weeks ago. All
the quirks were there; the way he named subroutines, the style of comments. I
gulped, but merely said 'She has learned very quickly from a great tutor'. I
thought it best not to elaborate."
"It was as if that small part of David in that machine was still striving, as he
always did, to finish the project; that determination to succeed, transcending
mortality."
"Is that all?" asked my great nephew Tom, disappointed.
"If only it had been." I sighed. "The whole department knew that something
was horribly wrong but Nigel sensed nothing. His project was suddenly onschedule
and he was going to get a promotion out of it. That was all that
mattered to him. And so it was. When the project finished, we put David's PC
in a cupboard in the Computer Room. None of us could explain why."
"And …?"
"Well, over the coming days, things started going wrong for Nigel. The
word spread from the surviving members of the development team about
Nigel's petulant and bullying manner, and his insensitive management style.
Nigel's acts of vindictiveness, spite, and black politics against his team, and
David in particular, became ‘Water-fountain' gossip. After a while, Nigel ate
alone in the canteen, a pariah. An ambitious manager must never have a
reputation as a martinet. 'He gets his projects in on time, but at what a cost'! All
the managers smelt the stench of a career in freefall, and avoided him.
Despite the ultimate success of the project, Nigel gradually underwent a
striking change in demeanour. Gone was the cocky, ruthless action-man,
replaced by someone who seemed … err … haunted by anxiety. He seemed