Stephen Potter, who wrote several pioneering books on Gamesmanship and Oneupmanship, unfortunately died in 1969, before the days of big computers. However, scholars have been able to carry on his researches, which we now present under the heading of Computermanship - How to be one up on your fellow user.
Until recently it was still possible to practice the Weaselmanship gambit successfully: "I never use computers, old boy -- I leave that to you boffins." Nowadays, however, it is definitely an inferior ploy, and Weaselman can no longer be seen walking past the drinks machine while saying "Ah yes, that's just how I expected a computer to look -- lots of impressive flashing lights!"
If you are genuinely a Weasel is better to pretend that you are just used to an entirely different (and superior) system; for example:
Weaselman: Ah I see! You get rid of a file by typing DELETE. That would be the approximate equivalent of ZNW on the Mango 13's CHRONIX system which I'm more familiar with. How quaint to call it DELETE!
Weaselman should also use a dumb terminal (e.g. a Newbury) since there are fewer buttons to confuse him. (" I don't really feel at home without my CHRONIX 3280 terminal.")
How to log on
There are several ways of impressing your colleagues by your method of logging on.
1. Find a VDU prominently marked "Broken. Kaput. Dustman collecting tomorrow. Condemned. Health hazard. Do not use." Flick a switch at the back / hit it / rewire it with a screwdriver from your pocket, so that it springs into life. Then use it as if nothing had happened.
2. Take over a terminal in the User Area from a friend. First spend 20 minutes talking loudly to him in incomprehensible jargon. This will get you universally disliked. Then apologise to your neighbours ("I'm sorry, old Fred was having trouble understanding why WEEBOL co-routines can only take arguments of semi-logical cotype if they've been declared as SESQUIBOOLEAN.")
3. Otherwise, log on from somewhere obscure and exotic.
Examples:
SPQR1-- The Vatican (Papal Console Room);
ABCDE -- Guatemalan Embassy (via JANET);
NNNN4 -- Sauna Bath 12 (massage parlour).
However, avoid addresses such as:
Engineering 2 (Basement);
Girton College 3 (Boiler Room);
Milton Road Sewage Works.
If you are not a Weaselman, but aspiring to genuine Computermanship there are several courses of action available to you.
1. Be a Languageman. This user knows all languages AND SAYS THEY'RE ALL RUBBISH -- except for the little-known Narglan 86 "but you can't get a decent compiler for it. Pity, it's such a lovely language. The only one which gets data structures really right." (Talking about data structures is so tedious that your audience will switch off without even attempting to understand you.)
2. Alternatively, be his rival, the man knowing just one language. This is a harder position to maintain.
If the language is Assembler, you have to be a Real Programmer, and write the stuff instantly (e.g. "Root 17, eh? No, I don't use HP, I'll just dash off a quick Assembler program. Then we can be sure it's accurate.")
Knowing just BASIC is out. Knowing just FORTRAN is coming back into fashion, especially if you can claim that you need it for the NARG routines, e.g. "We're talking semi-plasmoid concrete girders here. You can't solve a fourth-order Lagrange-Zargski equation in Pascal you know." It also helps if you know the man who wrote the NARG routines: "I've known old Jock Globsquirtle for 30 years -- if he says there's no other sound algorithm, I'll back his judgment."
Knowing just the ZED editor, and writing programs to calculate pi in ZED, is a symptom of insanity but may sometimes be effective.
Another ploy is to reminisce at great length about EDSAC, and the days when Computer Science students were expected to carry spare valves around with them. This gives the impression that modern programmers are effete, since they type in their programs rather than gnawing holes in punched tape with their teeth (as you had to).
Drinksmanship
The time will come when you will feel thirsty. At this stage the complete novice is inclined to panic, and use the drinks machine provided. Slightly more stylish is to go out to the pub surrounded by a horde of admiring friends (actors can be employed for this). Better still is to have your own supplies with you -- a well-trained St Bernard turning up when you cry "Heel, Fido," a waiter with a silver salver, and so on. Even pulling out a bottle of whisky will create a suitable impression, especially if you then go on to write flawless programs.
CSmanship
If you are unfortunate enough to find yourself a member of a computing service, you may be able to capitalise on this, but you are already at a psychological disadvantage.
Do not put forward the image of yourself as a Computer Scientist: one staff member admitted to having written a FORTRAN compiler 20 years ago, and nobody ever took him seriously again. It is best to have some other skill: Physicist is a good one, since you can pretend you know how disc drives work (always a good one, since they are likely to crash every few months). Better still is Mathematician, since this impresses everyone -- especially if you can condemn other people's mathematical expertise. Don't bother being a Historian since nobody will care.
Perhaps it's better to work in an area where you don't meet users, e.g. conversion of ISO interfaces into UNIX-compatible standards. This sounds very deep and useful, and nobody will guess that all you do is buy the sugar for the drinks machine.
Suggestmanship
So we come to Suggestmanship, the art of saying unanswerable things in the Suggestions file.
For example, if a user requests a particular facility, DON'T AGREE WITH HIM. Explain that it's undesirable, was considered 5 years ago, is an old chestnut, would be incompatible with international protocols (make some up), etc. The exception is when the facility is really impossible, in which case you can blame IBM and say that you'll raise it at the next IBM User Group meeting (in 8 years' time).
Some non-Suggestmen have been driven to agreeing with users, and even to describing facilities as desirable. This is defeatism. Similarly files called .WISH.LIST and .CURRENT.STATUS are out -- it suggests that things might be better in some way.
If you are an ordinary user, replying to a suggestion, either agree with it (if you know it will be difficult to implement), disagree with it (if it's harmless, invent a side-effect), or, if you don't understand it, change the subject. Remember it is YOUR job to monopolise the Suggestions file.
Bulletinship
An extension of the above is Bulletinship, the art of humiliating other people on Bulletin Boards. In fact real Computermen do not always admit to reading Bulletin Boards, because they are far too busy doing more interesting things. Moreover, making comments on a bulletin board opens the way for other Computermen to think of a witty reply. YOU should be doing that!
Thus contributions to Bulletin Boards from the real Computerman should consist mainly of one-line put downs (longer factual corrections can be sent personally, preferably by referring to some 4-volume work which is unobtainable except in Albania).
If a piece of news is claimed to be "hot", e.g. someone announces a Mac III parallel processor, then a suitable reply would be "Oh yes, we were beta-testing one last month," keeping it vague who "we" are. Give the impression that someone just happened to draw your attention to the item when you had a spare five minutes between major breakthroughs.
Put-downs can be devised for other topics on a discussion board: for example no poem that someone else has contributed should EVER be praised. Describe it as "flawed", or, if you prefer, "clearly derivative of Zoltan McSnoo's translations of Horace". Ridicule it, parody it, but don't praise it. If you wish to contribute a poem yourself, make sure it's in an obscure foreign language (Latvian is a good one). Do not provide a translation.
Remember, you're not here to be liked. You're here to impress everyone with your erudition and brilliance, so be rude and pedantic. They won't like you anyway.
Jonathan Partington, October 1989