(no subject)

The colocation center my workplace uses is up in Fremont, right off of Mission Boulevard where the street serves as a junction between highways 680 and 880. The building used to be a Fry's electronics in a past life; now it's full of rows of sealed cabinets that are more of a lesson in perspective drawings and vanishing points than anything else. I end up there about every two weeks or so to poke or prod at some random piece of equipment, or to give the machines there a new sibling, slowly filling up our 42U of paid space.

There's something comforting about being the primary contact at such a place, able to walk in 24 hours a day and be given full, unquestioned access once my ID is shown. I've done my time as one of the mindless drones in the tech world... person 80 of 100 on a faceless staff, given a trouble-ticket bin and very limited access. Literally a number, not a name, to my bosses. Every now and then it actually sinks in that now, after 9 years in the 'valley, I've 'made it', on a career level. I'm the the network manager of my company -- a company, that while still pretty small, has a global reach and may yet someday be a commonly known name. On purely technical issues, I've got no manager or senior staff to look up to; instead, others take their tech issues up to me. When this happens there's this combination of pride and concern that comes directly to mind. Pride at being able to acquire this opportunity, and the concern that if I don't do a good job it could realistically mean the end of a company and the fiscal well being of its workers.

( Musings on the halfday continue... )