Ryan
Chasing greatness

Well, this will be the last post from my blog that appears on Facebook (Unless I screw up anyway). I’m happier with the feeling that I can write what I want in two distinct places instead of my bad language permeating to everyone I have ever met on Facebook.

This may or may not have anything to do with the alarming amount of older relatives that are showing up.

There was a time when I was not very socially adjusted. Some people (Mom) might still think that. However, at some point I figured out that more people respond to a solid conversation more than discussing, “Big-O,” for various algorithms.

“Big-O” is not something you do with your girlfriend. Not in this case anyway.

Despite all of my efforts, I still get pretty cranky inside about plenty of things thanks to my need for clean and elegant solutions. The classic boundary problem is one that gets me frazzled all the time.

If I said that I was going to be at your house at 12AM Saturday, when would you be expecting me? Would you wait around at 11:59PM Friday in joyous expectation, or would you expect to see me late Saturday night?

Sure, there is an answer to that question, but the problem is that most people don’t use it correctly. Instead a lot of people use midnight to describe the second scenario and 12AM to describe the first.

I swear I’ve had debates at work about what day the actual midnight showing was for a movie. That isn’t to say they’re stupid, but rather it’s an unclear problem that nobody has reconciled yet.

In my wacky mind I think of 12:01AM the official start of the next day, 11:59PM as the last minute of the last, and 12AM the oddball minute where people go insane and start chanting, “Ia Ia.”

Kudos to whoever gets that reference.

Aside from all of that though, I really love our new place with our ample amounts of stuff. I’m especially enjoying cooking. I tolerate a lot of cooking shows, enjoy Alton Brown, and grovel at the feet of Jacuqes Pepin. The man is a wizard.

It’s almost Thanksgiving, which means it is almost Christmas. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a year where my first response to the holidays have been, “God, I’m busy.”

In my job right now I’m working on doing a live server migration. Just because I like a challenge though, I’m also trying to set up mySQL replication and NFS clustering. Don’t know what that stuff means? Well, if I pull it off I will officially tack on, “Awesome” to my job title. If I fail, the company I do this for will cease to exist until I fix the problem.

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I hate applying for jobs.  So in my frustration I have started writing cover letters that I would enjoy reading.  Here are some:

Dear Boss,

My name is Ryan Latta.  I’m awesome.  Awesome like a time-travelling ninja-pirate invisibly altering the course of  history with his pet dragon.  Let me explain.

I graduated from NC State University with a B.S. in Computer Science.  People tell me it is in the top 5 engineering schools in the country.  They tell me this because people say strange things when reacting to meeting one of the more remarkable people in the world.  In fact, I have only ever met someone more remarkable than me, but I convinced him to leave the country (True story).  I have studied and practiced areas of software development and system administration extensively.  I have won awards for software development at both the world-wide and collegiate level.  I even have competed in world-wide security competitions as well.  I do these things because if I don’t occupy my hands they are likely to turn what they touch into gold, which will only hurt our economy more.

You need someone that is a leader.  Someone who takes initiative, works with people, and does what they promise.  In terms of taking initiative, I was born.  I doubt you’ll find someone better than that.  In terms of leadership, I have never been in a position that I was not a leader in.  Even now, my bosses have me tell them how to do their job.  I know you need someone to do two jobs, thankfully I was born with two hands to do them.  I can provide you with a stable, secure, environment where the developers are happy, and ready for the next challenge.  Yes, I am that good.

I know you have a lot of applicants, but you need someone as amazing as a time-travelling ninja-pirate who has a pet dragon. Talk to you soon.

Thanks,
Ryan Latta

Dear Boss,

My name is Ryan Latta.  I came across your job posting for a Software Developer/Architect and I knew I would be the A1 to your steak.

I graduated from NC State University with a B.S. in Computer Science, but more importantly I distinguished myself as someone who showered regularly, made friends, and could give presentations without crying.  Of lesser importance I placed 2nd in a world-wide coding competition held by IBM, and got another award for my creative development abilities.  I have used nearly every language and technology that exists for one reason or another.  Mostly because that is what it takes these days to graduate with a CS degree, and it keep us nerds inside where we can’t harm the, “Normals.”

Your job posting had no less than 4,000 bulleted requirements.  I only read about 3 of them.  That isn’t to say you aren’t an engaging writer or that your bullets don’t beckon the reader.  Its just that I already knew you needed a web developer.  I know Java, .NET, Security issues, OO paradigms, Design patterns, unit testing, BBQing, knitting, SQL,  Origami, and how to use XML.  Did I mention I’m the A1 to your steak yet?

You have an immediate need for someone who can do the job of web development, and I’ve sent you this email.  If you want someone who can just do a job, don’t hire me.  If you want someone who can make a name for the company, set up an interview.

Thanks,
Ryan Latta

“So how is everyone enjoying those free drinks,” Amanda started.  Her carefully planned ice-breaker had only earned a few apathetic claps and a roaring, “Hell yes love,” from that obnoxious dipshit comedian from England.

Amanda didn’t care for him.

Though now that her opening had failed, she had to continue with the presentation, hopefully bailing out her own ship of sinking self-esteem.

“The captain has told me that we will arrive at, ‘Atlantis,’ by 9 o’clock tomorrow morning, and before that I was going to go over some exciting information about this exciting new hotel.”

Amanda had given countless presentations like this before, but never to her idols, fantasies, and favorite tabloid fodder.  She was having a terrible time rconciling the fact that she had just read that Britney was having an emergency c-section for twins, but still sitting less than 100 feet away.  She knew that Jennifer Aniston had sworn death threats against “Brangelina,” but they were all siting together.  They even made small talk during Amanda’s presentation.

Amanda felt like she was going to throw up.

Twenty minutes later, after four failed jokes, sixteen minutes of dull information, and no less than nine-thousand interruptions from that dipshit from England, Amanda did throw up.

Even though she had always carried a tooth-brush and toothpaste for these occasions, the thought of having to go make small talk with the celebrities after vomiting made her sinking self-esteem ship  capsize.

Amanda would be drinking tonight.

When she was hired for this job, she thought she had won a golden ticket.  In fact, she had gotten a golden ticket.  It was part of the gimmick.  The company who hired her had built this outrageous hotel in the south pacific ocean.  It was a luxury oil platform.  They had swimming pools, bowling alleys, 5-star restaurants for whatever type of cuisine you wanted, casinos, shows, walks on the sea floor, and an underwater bar.  They had sent golden tickets to some of the highest profile people in the world.  It was an all-expenses-paid vacation to the hottest thing in the world.  Her company had even rented a cruise ship just for the trip there and back.

Amanada woke up at 8:30 in the morning the feeling that she had shoved a brick through her head.

Then she realized it was 8:30 and they would be disembarking in 30 minutes.

Then she realized she had passed out on the floor, and the proof was on her face.

She tried to reassure herself that all she had to do was be there to welcome everyone to Atlantis and after that the staff would take over, but she was going to look like a burlap sack doing it.

Somehow, while her self-esteem ship was sinking to the dark depths, it exploded.