Identity

The manager called me in.
I already knew.
I’d known for weeks, in the way you know something before you’re willing to say it out loud.
The conversation was ten minutes.
The decision had already been made, by both of us, long before that.

“The difference between good and bad architecture is the time you spend on it.”
– David Chipperfield

There is a specific kind of architect that worries me.
Not the junior one learning the ropes. Not the experienced one who double checks the consequences.
I mean the architect who is absolutely convinced they are right, and talks incessantly to prove it.

Show me an architecture no one questions, 
and I’ll show you a system no one understands.

A few years back, I walked into a post-mortem where the architecture was being blamed for everything from latency spikes to the office coffee machine malfunctioning.
The architect? Well, he was calm. Unbothered. Certain.

“It’s not the design,” he said.
“The team just didn’t implement it properly.”

There it was: the dead giveaway. He wasn’t doubting the design. He was defending it like gospel.

Right then, I knew.
The most dangerous architect isn’t the one who lacks answers.
It’s the one who never asks questions.

If you’re an architect or becoming one, doubt isn’t your enemy. 
It’s your sharpest tool.

A few years ago, I took a week off. First vacation in months. On day two, I got six Slack messages, three “urgent” calls, and by Wednesday, the team had spun up a new feature that killed the application’s performance like a toddler on an espresso overdose: fast, chaotic, and entirely unsupervised.

That’s when it hit me: I hadn’t built a system, I’d built a babysitting job.

Back in 2014, I was at a meeting with a prominent French bank about a challenging project. At the time, “low-code” was a fresh concept, and the bank aimed to build its own low-code IDE to let business analysts craft UIs and speed up delivery.

The team already knew each other from previous projects, so introductions were a formality. Our manager introduced everyone: “This elegant lady is the delivery manager, that serious gentleman is the team lead…”
When he got to me, the bank’s IT manager interrupted, winked, and joked, “The guy’s doing nothing!”

We laughed sincerely and moved on.

As I am in my late 40ies, I’ll be closing my 25th year as an IT engineer this year and my 20th year as an architect.

As I was reflecting about the journey, I wondered: Am I really a Senior or just a Vintage, a Relic?

We often tend to think that a person with considerable years of experience is usually a respected Senior (as a rank and age), but Experience in some careers is viewed as universally positive, but that’s not necessarily the case in tech.

In other careers, the craft matures. It becomes less technical and more artistic, and people gain more knowledge while effortlessly getting things done.

Lawyers and doctors are respected when they cross into their 50’s. They are held in high esteem. Tech workers don’t collectively share the same belief.

In our case, the rapid change in technologies and tools, plus the weird label that stuck to us as technology handlers, are making us prone to being obsolete in a few years, if not months.