The Age No One Knows Again

Chapter 6

Last night's news talked about the downfall of dot-com companies. It said that companies that had been introduced like the protagonists of success myths until recently were disappearing one by one. The content was about investment drying up, employees leaving companies, and more startups closing their doors.

Company names scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

Some names were familiar, and some I was seeing for the first time.

Some companies had been featured prominently in newspaper business sections until a few months ago.

I wasn't particularly surprised watching the news.

Because I had already seen too many similar things happening around me.

Companies disappearing wasn't as special as I thought.

When I came to work in the morning, the CEO called people to the conference room and said something.

"We're only operating until this month."

Some were surprised, some bowed their heads.

I didn't say much.

It wasn't something I was experiencing for the first time.

There were many similar companies around me.

A company that had been hiring employees until recently closed its doors a few months later, and I heard stories about a company that had rumors of getting investment couldn't pay salaries.

It was a time when the company name on business cards changed frequently.

People also moved with surprising speed.

A person I worked with would contact me from another company a month later, and a client's employee would suddenly appear as an employee of a competitor. Back then, it wasn't clear whether staying at a company for a long time was a matter of ability or luck.

I also changed positions several times.

Fortunately, there was work.

I could get interviews just because I knew how to make websites, and some companies would tell me to start the following week if I said I knew a little Java.

After a few years of experience, interviews also became easier.

"You know JSP, right?"

"Yes."

"What about Oracle?"

"I've tried it."

"That'll do."

Some places were decided just like that.

I thought I was doing quite well.

No matter where I went, there was work to do, and whenever I took on a job, I finished it somehow.

Whenever new technology came out, I bought books.

After reading for a few days, I learned as much as I needed.

When a project ended, I went somewhere else.

But at some point, the atmosphere changed a little.

A development team appeared at the company.

Exactly, it had existed before, but the name and role became clearer than before. Technology Team. Platform Team. Architecture Team. Before starting a project, there were people who reviewed the technology, and there were also people who created common modules.

What used to be made together by everyone, at some point, someone decided first, and someone else made it according to that decision.

I was mainly the latter.

At first, I didn't think much about it.

It was convenient when things were decided.

I didn't need to worry about how to make it.

I could use the common module and develop according to the established rules.

Work was also fast.

But as meetings increased, I gradually felt something strange.

I wasn't called to some meetings.

A meeting to review a new framework. A meeting to decide on a common structure. A meeting to discuss the technical composition of the next project.

Later, I only received the results.

"From now on, we're going with this."

Someone said.

I nodded.

"Understood."

That repeated.

At first, I thought it was a difference in experience.

But then I saw a colleague with a similar level of experience going into that meeting.

That friend graduated from a university that everyone knows just by name.

The other person was similar.

The two were originally close.

They didn't go to the same school, but they had overlapping seniors and juniors they knew, and they attended developer meetings together.

They also talked a lot about technology during lunch.

"These days, everyone goes this way."

"Did you see that paper?"

"It's something that came up at the last seminar."

I ate next to them and just listened quietly.

Some things I understood, and some things I didn't.

When something I didn't understand came up, I just let it pass.

"What's that?"

I could have asked.

But somehow, I couldn't open my mouth.

More than the fact that I didn't know,

I felt like they would find out why I didn't know.

There was no evidence that they thought of me that way.

No one had ever said anything about my educational background.

But I kept being conscious of it.

That I graduated from a junior college.

When someone mentioned which school they graduated from, I would become quiet for no reason. When school came up at a social gathering, I wanted to change the subject. When someone asked "Where are you from?", I answered as if nothing was wrong, but just receiving that question made me feel a bit down.

Probably no one cared.

But I cared.

Once, it was when a new project was starting.

There was a meeting to decide who would be in charge of the technology review.

I couldn't get into that meeting.

Later, the team leader came and said.

"This time, take care of the UI and external integration."

"Yes."

I answered.

And then, after a moment, I asked.

"Who's looking after the technology side?"

The team leader mentioned two names.

As expected, it was them.

I didn't say anything.

I went back to my seat and got a bit angry.

Why can't I do it?

That question stayed in my head for a long time.

Is it because I can't do it?

Is it because of my educational background?

Or is it just because those people are better?

I didn't want to admit any of the three.

Especially the last one, I hated it more.

A few days later, the two of them were looking at something in the conference room late into the night. I saw it through the glass door as I was leaving work with my bag.

Two laptops and several books were open.

The whiteboard was covered with squares and arrows.

One of them saw me and waved.

"Leaving work?"

"Yes."

"Good work."

"Yes. I'm leaving first."

I pressed the elevator button.

Before the door closed, I looked at the conference room one more time.

On the way home that day, I thought.

Is that why they get to take on those tasks?

Thinking that made me feel worse.

It was easier to think it was because of educational background.

Because that's something I can't change now.

If it was because of lack of skill, I had to do something.

But I didn't know what to do.

Should I read more books?

Should I attend seminars?

Should I study after work?

I just thought about it for a few days.

And eventually, I worked as usual.

That week, there was a lot of work to do.

I did integration testing with an external vendor, and I spent a day because the data format didn't match. There was an error that only occurred in production, and I took care of that too.

Friday night, I quickly fixed and deployed it.

When the next week came, new work came up again.

I was busy.

Being busy was convenient.

I could postpone thinking.

A few months later, the project ended.

The project results were posted on the company bulletin board.

It said that new technologies were applied, a common structure was established, and there were plans to expand it to other projects in the future. The names of the two people who were in charge of technical review were at the top.

My name was there too.

A little further down.

External system integration and operation stabilization.

It wasn't wrong.

It was what I did.

But I stared at the sentence for a while.

Operation stabilization.

It was a good phrase.

Things would be difficult without it.

But no one seemed to want to do it.

I closed the window.

There was a dinner party that evening.

It was a project completion dinner party.

The team leader raised his glass and said,

"Everyone has worked hard."

Applause broke out.

People filled each other's glasses.

A colleague who was in charge of technical review came next to me and clinked glasses.

"Brother, you really worked hard on the integration this time."

"It was what I had to do."

"That company was really unresponsive."

"That's right."

He seemed to be speaking sincerely.

I took a sip of my drink.

There wasn't much reason to hate them.

That was even more ambiguous.

Whether they pushed me out, or I didn't go in. Whether it was decided by the company, or whether I was already seen as that kind of person.

I didn't know.

At the second gathering that night, they started talking about technology again. What they wanted to try next, which company was using a new method, and there was a seminar on the weekend.

Someone asked me,

"Brother, do you want to go too?"

I thought for a moment.

It was Saturday.

I had been working late all week.

On the weekends, I just wanted to rest.

"I'm good. You guys go ahead."

"Yes."

They started talking about their own things again.

I filled my glass.

And thought to myself.

See.

We're still our own group after all.

A little later, I knew it too.

That they had invited me to go with them.

I decided not to think about that fact.

People remember what they want to believe for a long time.

I thought I was outside for quite a while.

Maybe I really was outside.

But when it started,

who drew the line first

I still don't know.