how I spent my
summer vacation

Or, Escape from the Evil Empire

by Brian Dewey
<dewey@cs.washington.edu>

Brian Dewey is a second-year graduate student in computer science at the University of Washington.

Fatigued by three quarters of classwork as a first-year graduate student at the University of Washington, my ears perked up when I heard through the department grapevine that Rob Short, group manager of NT infrastructure software, was looking for a summer intern. I wanted to spend my summer outside of the department, so this seemed like a fantastic opportunity. When I met with Rob a few weeks later, things only looked better ­ he told me that, among other things, his group could use help with Wolfpack, NT's clustering technology. I couldn't have hoped for a more fascinating project. So I submitted myself to the Microsoft interview process ­ that alone could be the subject of an essay ­ and began my internship in June.

I spent my first day as a Microsoft intern riding around in a bumper car while attempting to throw a wiffle ball through a hole in a basketball backboard. When I wasn't doing that, I was busy drinking free Red Hook beer or playing the Elvira pinball game with an inexhaustible supply of somebody else's quarters. I even won a door prize ­ a maroon insulated backpack with a full set of picnic supplies and "Microsoft" emblazoned on one corner. Not a bad way to begin. This wasn't the beginning of a summer internship; it was the start of summer camp!

Microsoft employees certainly like to play. The day-to-day games are on a much smaller scale than the wiffle-ball party; vintage arcade games lurk in the halls of building 26, inviting developers to put down their keyboards. (Battle Zone, an Atari arcade game from 1980, became my preferred break during long compiles.) I saw people take the time to do some of the oddest ­ and frequently, geekiest ­ things. For instance, a fellow intern brought in thirty pounds of dry ice during his last week and spent an hour distracting conscientious programmers (such as myself!) by filling offices with the cold smoke.

Unfortunately, the games weren't the only thing that filled the hours during the first part of my internship. Rob had told me that the fax group needed someone for a quick file format conversion project. As I got more involved, I found out that it involved a lot more than file format conversion and that it would be anything but quick. I consoled myself with the fact that it was a boring but necessary job, but it turned out to be a disheartening experience.

I spent a depressing amount of time doing metaprogramming. Not surprisingly, I faced the learning curve of a new environment; however, on top of that, my work lived in a limbo between three distinct programming groups. I spent too much time bouncing from one group to another and attempting to piece together a clear picture of what I was supposed to do. It didn't help that the project was about as interesting as oatmeal. About halfway through my internship, I had a serious crisis

of motivation: if nobody in the three groups wanted to understand how their components interacted, why should I ­ an intern and therefore without the amazingly motivating stock options ­ go through the effort of synthesis?

During this period, the hours in Redmond seemed to drag on without end, and I had to reevaluate my first summer camp impressions. Although Microsoft seems a high-tech playground at times, the employees earn their playtime through an extreme devotion to their work. The expectation of long hours was vaguely frightening. It was so common for people to work into the evening ­ especially as a deadline approached ­ that Microsoft provided free dinners to the NT development group through the Marriott-run cafeteria in building 26. The programmer I worked with the most mentioned that he had a habit of coming in to work at least one day on the weekend. Without the distractions of meetings, it was the best time to program. And on the Friday before Labor Day, there was an espresso cart outside the mailroom on the second floor; a sign stated that there would be free espresso drinks those Saturday and Sunday afternoons. (New slogan: "Microsoft: we put the 'labor' back in 'Labor day.'")

But like conscientious programmers are supposed to do, I prevailed over the boredom and finished my project in the fax group. I'm in the final part of my internship as I write this, working on a project with the Wolfpack group, and I've experienced a shocking reversal of morale. I'm getting the precise combination of detective work, problem solving, and video game playing (during compiles, of course) to remind me why I love the programmer's life. I'm starting to work longer hours without even noticing, and part of me regrets the fact that the end of my internship is rapidly approaching.

I've consequently revised my opinion of Microsoft again. The company doesn't expect long hours from its employees. However, it does expect the employees to love their work, whatever facet of the production cycle it may fall into. The long hours come as a consequence, not as a goal. I think this is an accurate characterization of the industry. After all, stereotypical programmers are obviously devoted to their work ­ late nights in the lab, meals by the keyboard ­ and this stereotype carries more truth than many of us might care to admit. Of course, the increasing need to rush a product to market stands in opposition to the ideals of people who work for the love of it and want to take the time to do the job right. But again, the entire industry faces this problem. After spending a summer at Microsoft, I realize it no longer looks like summer camp or an Evil Empire. It's just a software company.