Mini Mort

My earliest mortifying moment came when I was quite young. In fact, I don’t remember the experience, but my mother is rather fond of the retelling of it…

My parents met inside a computer. My dad was tutored Fortran. Three years later, after their marriage and my birth, they still worked in that computer—yes, literally, inside the computer. (And no, this is not a Zoolander reference.)

Back in those days, computers filled entire rooms—rooms that were equipped with false floors in addition to the standard false, tiled ceilings. The floor was tiled to allow workers to get under the computer and fix wiring problems. The tiles had holes in them so that the room’s dedicated air conditioners could pump cool air in through the floor to keep the computer from overheating. The sheer volume of heat that these machines generated required a tremendous cooling capacity, and the consequent flow of cool air generated a lot of noise.

When I was young, my parents couldn’t afford a babysitter. So, they brought me to work! For the first several months, I just sat in a baby carrier, but once I could walk, I needed space to move and play. Unfortunately, I wasn’t terribly stable, so I would usually position myself inside of a wheeled file cart. The structure helped me stand, and I could push the carrier around the room. Around and around I would go, happy as a clam to be mobile.

One day, while my parents were working, I noticed a big red button. It was so jolly and candy-like, I just HAD to push it.

So I looked to the left.  I looked to the right.  And then…

I pushed it.

Brrreeeeooooowwww…

The noisy room shut down, and all you could hear was:

Waaaaaa!!! WWWWAAAAAAAAA!!!!  WAAAWWAAAWWAAAAA!!!!!!!!

I knew I had done it. My action had caused an immediate and severe reaction, and I was at fault. I was so embarrassed.

Thankfully, the situation was salvageable.  The computer used core RAM, little magnetic rings that do not require a power source to store information. Someone simply started the computer back up, and the machine resumed its work.

Needless to say, I never touched THAT button again…