It's been a surreal day.
I'm rapidly approaching my one year anniversary in the new job. All in all, I think it has been a positive change. More money, nice people to work with and for, and fewer "no win" situations to get mired down.
The funny part is that I've just been asked to sit on a committee to address a problem that I tried to raise almost precisely one year ago. At the time, I was pretty much told (albeit politely) to go away and be quiet. Now, all of the sudden, it's a major priority.
Now, I could be a dick about this-- say I told you so, gloat about how great a prognosticator I am for seeing this a year ahead of anyone else, act like a diva and refuse to help, etc. But that would be stupid, childish and unprofessional. Don't get me wrong, there's a small piece of my ego that would enjoy that, but the amount of time and energy required for that sort of self-indulgent pettiness and vindictiveness is so draining. I'd rather spend that time and energy on something like building a Linux server with a RAID array and a backup package like Amanda for my home network. (O'Reilly has an excellent book on Backup & Recovery that I've been perusing for the past few days, in case that seemed rather random.)
The sad and surprising part, however, is that I used to care passionately about this particular issue. I stayed up late nights, figuring out technological solutions to this particular problem. I even worked out alternative architectures to address objections that I anticipated.
Now, when I am theoretically in a position to actually advocate for the change I suggested a year ago, I find my overwhelming emotion is-- apathy. I have no idea where my notes from a year ago are, and I feel no overwhelming sense of urgency to find them. It is extremely unlikely that I will be allowed to do the coding for this particular solution, and even if I did, it's not like I have access to the kind of server and technology I would need in order to make this a reality.
This should bother me. Or maybe it really shouldn't.