Agent and I attended a lovely dinner party this week, complete with homemade deliciousness and comfortable chatting around large, conjoined tables. I hardly knew anyone there, but felt a sense of familiarity and belonging anyway. Good food, good people, and good conversation.
I didn’t talk much to the whole party, as this is my way, but eventually someone across the table asked what I do for a living. I’ve had this conversation before. It goes something like this:
“So, Koen, what is it that you do?”
Insert one of: ["I'm a programmer."], ["I work with computers."] or if I really want to blow their mind I’ll say “I’m a web application developer” (which is my actual title at work). Agent likes it when I say “I’m a computer scientist,” which is what I always mean to say, but I forget.
“Oh…” That’s usually the end of this conversation, but sometimes they’ll act interested. “So what does that mean?” they’ll implore curiously.
And I’ll say “I make websites that do stuff!” with a little too much enthusiasm.
Sometimes this will mean nothing to them and I’ll have to give an example. When giving examples about the Internet, I’ve found there’s nothing more universal than Google. I’ll say something like “Do you use Gmail? That’s an example of a web application.” And then they’ll think I’m really smart (hopefully), but usually I also see a flash of pity in their eyes.
So I told everyone at the party that “I’m in computers”, which may have been the dorkiest think I could have said. Everyone was very kind, even though I felt like I’d foreignated* myself. It didn’t help that I became a little too excited about the challenges of developing interfaces for use on both Internet Explorer and Firefox. I lost my audience then, which was perfectly fine with me.
*Foreignated is not a word, yet.