My last week at Metropolitan Life
One morning in the spring of 1971, I woke up and heard on the radio that 'another cop had been shot on the freeway in Oakland'.
And I realized that I was becoming immune to the level of violence in the bay area. So, I applied to immigrate to Canada for
the second time, the first was for my attending Graduate School. I was approved in September. I left in late November.
And, of course, there was the usual weird stuff that happened. I was challenged by one of the fellows who understood
the hardware workings as well as the software. He worked on their communications setup. A good guy. A tape had a bad header.
And I told him that I can not write data in the header. So, He took me down to the computer room, where he proceeded
to mount the tape. Sitting at the console, he typed some commands, the tape moved, and he displayed the reader he had just read.
I said, "OK, not my header." He then read the next block, and there was MY header.
I said, as he scratched his head, "That is my header. How did the other stuff get there?" and he had no idea. He wanted to bet me
that I was wrong. He would have lost. Sharp fellow, good to have on your side.
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