401: You don’t belong here.
My first ever exposure to HTML was when I came across an error page on a website.
In my ‘youth’ I’d regularly go to the local library and book time on a PC ( we were poor, get over it ) and search up video game cheats. I’d spend a lot of time doing this, sorting them, reducing the font size of my document down to 11px to cram as many on a page as possible and then print them off at the price of 10 pence per page.
My point is, one day in doing this I came across an error page. I’d never really seen an error page before. I’d seen broken things on the internet. Or 404’s. Or redirects. But not an error page. The page clearly explained how “blah blah blah, error HTML”. So it began - my journey to being a developer. I had no idea what HTML was before that day and after much googling, I came away with the basic understanding.
Since that day, I’ve coded as a matter of passion. I love coding. I love learning new languages and doing things the right way, the wrong way, fixing things, breaking things. I love it. I love using my brain to solve stupid little problems, and not using my brain to create bigger problems!
My entire coding career is one of self taught passion and I’m obviously very proud of. I worked hard and competed against people who did have the flashy education and whilst now the idea of being a self taught developer is normal and not something to be ‘amazed’ at - it wasn’t always this way.
There was a genuine disgust in the 00’s and 10’s toward self taught developers that few people would understand unless they’ve experienced it firsthand. Programming on any level very much felt like a big boys club and only big boys with big boy education’s deserved to be interviewed. It was heartbreaking to go to an interview, for a job you were easily ‘overqualified’ for only to be told you would not be considered because you lacked a formal qualification.
So you’d apply to these jobs, or any jobs and you’d just be trying, really hard to get your foot in the door. Knowing that all it would take is one job, one person to give you a break. That if you could just show these people in their fancy office buildings that you could actually do what you claimed that you’d ‘win’ and you’d be set.
My first break
I was 16, working in blackpool at in a t-shirt printing shop. It was a family run business, a large souvenir store. Looking back on it now, I don’t think there’s any fond memories. I was bullied and berated over everything. Forced into a public facing role dealing with the general public, whom most being drunk, well you can imagine. I never had any money. I’d work genuine backbreaking 12 hour shifts in the ‘season’, and I’d be lucky to get one day off a week. I’m laughing about it now, but boy, I was crying about it then.
The only positive thing I can say about the entire experience is it gave me something an office job could never - confidence. If not for that job, I think I’d have been trapt in my shell forever. I don’t think I’d be who I am today. I think I’d be a quite, sulky, more pessimistic person. though I do question if all the pain was worth it…
So when I tell you, I was hungry for something, anything else. You know I’m being truthful. I would work these 12 hour shifts, come home to my rented bedroom in my then girlfriend’s house - sit down and force myself to code for atleast an hour every night. I have vivid memories of wanting to sleep, but knowing if I didn’t cram more code stuff in my head, I’d never escape to better things. I was a capable web developer, I’d done websites for friends - I knew my way around PHP, Java, HTML, CSS, FLASH (GOD, REMEMBER FLASH!?!?!). Coding was a nice escape from an otherwise pretty shitty life.
One day I saw an advert for a “Junior Web Editor” - or something along those lines. It was for a small but profitable marketing company in Blackpool. They sold advertising to companies in brochures they produced for lots of weird products. It’s hard to explain but - part of selling the advertising was branding, websites, brochures, you know the deal.
It turned out it was an apprenticeship - something I’d never considered before, but I didn’t care about the apprenticeship, I cared about getting my foot into the door and into the industry. So I applied online, and a week later got invited to the interview. I remember going to the local ASDA with my then girlfriend and shopping for a “suit” - because I was going to be serious,and professional, and by golly gosh, I was a big boy!
The suit didn’t fit well. Too big. The interview took place on a campus too - so you can imagine me, a tall skinny kid in an oversized suit, walking around all these cool and hip kids sporting band t shirts and skinny jeans. God. Awful. I feel the embarrassment come flooding back even typing these words.
There were lots of candidates, they made us sit in this big room, essentially all just staring over at each other. Everyone looked much better and more put together then me and I distinctly remember having feelings of just giving up and going home. I didn’t. I was the last to be interviewed and along the questions they asked about experienced, one of the interviewers said quite directly “Well that’s all good and well, but why should we pick you?. You don’t exactly have good leaving grades.”. I instantly snapped back “Because I’m the best”.
I was young, I was cocky but I knew I needed that role. The interviewer glanced back a quick smile, held out his hand and said “We only hire the best”. It felt absolutely fucking amazing. typing it out it sounds extremely cringe worthy, but as a 17 year old kid, it was the stuff you dream of.
So long T shirts
I was so happy to hand in my notice to the crappy t-shirt job, I think I went home and cried genuine tears of joy with my girlfriend that night. I could just FEEL the future being available to me. My world had opened up. I was a free agent.
My commute consisted of:
- 6:30am wake up
- 7:00am get on a tram from LITERALLY the first stop in fleetwood, to the last stop in blackpool.
- 8:00ish - start walking to the industrial estate the office was located at.
- 8:45ish - arrive at work.
Rinse and repeat for the way home. It was exhausting, again - the things you do.
The office was different from working retail, it had good’s and bads. My mentor(s) were good but flawed people, like anyone I guess. Looking back, I wish I’d paid more attention to the guy who was trying to teach me, he meant well - but I was just full of “I know best” energy. That’s a big regret I have I guess. You just don’t know any better when you are young and very often people’s helpful comments come across as a knife digging into your ego.
One moment that absolutely crushed me, and that has really shaped me - we were working on a project for a client, and I had been given the task of designing the website. Something I enjoyed doing, it was a friday summer afternoon and everyone was very happily working away when the Managing Director of the company came in with another business owner, both high on, well something.
He was showing this other business owner what everyone was working on, and it was a fairly good vibe, he came to me and I showed them my designs for this website and he just started laughing, and saying vile things. “Those are really really bad, do you pay this guy to design? These are really fucking bad”. I tried to defend myself “well, I normally code, I’m doing this to learn” the guy seemed offended that I’d talked back “Well, honestly, if your code is like your designs, I’d just leave right now. You’ve got no future in this industry at all.”.
I was heartbroken, I was just a kid, and this guy - who didn’t even know me, had never met me, thought he knew enough about this kid to rip out his fuckin’ heart. After the coke-heads left, my coworkers all came around in a show of support and tried to comfort me as I tried my best not to cry. I was sent home early. I got an ‘apology’ a day later and I’ve had an extremely successful career in both design and programming - so I guess what I’m saying is, fuck that guy. Fuck him.
I never really bothered with the apprenticeship side - the actual going to ‘college’ for classroom learning. It just didn’t appeal to me. I went once and they were teaching the class how to power up and shut down a Mac. I’m not joking. An hour of my life I will never get back. The nice thing about college days was that my girlfriend studied close by, so I’d get to hang out with her on my lunch break - it was a sweet deal!
Realistically though, I did learn alot. I went from someone who knew what he was doing, to someone who CARED about what he was doing. Who took pride in his work and loved making things for the internet. I enjoyed my co-workers, I enjoyed earning actual money, Hell, in the summertime I even enjoyed the commute to the office.
I worked that job for a year and a half(?) - and then it happened. I interviewed for a job in Preston with an actual digital agency I’d heard of. They wanted a Frontend developer to join the team and hit the ground running. I got the job. My first REAL web dev role.
Anyways, If you made it this far, you must have too much free time, or maybe I’m dead and your reading it to ‘remember’ me - if it’s the latter - the afterlife sucks, send more beer.