We sit, we work: the software development department and the software product support department.
Grandpa comes in. He passes between tables, examining people and computers and stating, “Yes, I look, you have a little work with computers now. Not the same thing as before, when technicians were sitting here - programmers! The smoke stood! And you have it... Silence, peace. So, we will not clean your air conditioner!"
And left pleased, ignoring the requests to clean the air conditioners, because we will turn them on in the summer. Fuck you humanitarian. Dirty assurances that we were programmers he also ignored. So I see how he then tells the real technicians, whose smoke is always a pillar, how his cunning humanitaries wanted to deceive, say also programmers, and even the mouths of the sage themselves are not blurred.