In my early career as an RPG developer, my work revolved around the mainframe computer. For those unfamiliar, RPG wasn’t some adventurous game-it was a programming language that required you to write pages and pages of code just to accomplish the simplest tasks. The work was tedious, mind-numbingly repetitive, and offered little in terms of creativity or satisfaction. It was the kind of job that could slowly drain the spark out of you-if you let it. But my story isn’t about the code; it’s about the person who changed my path entirely.
Her name was Victoria, and she was my boss. Victoria wasn’t just a manager; she was a leader, the kind of person you never forget because of how she made you feel. She treated every single person on her team with respect-not the superficial kind that’s tied to titles or hierarchy, but genuine, heartfelt respect that recognized the human being behind the role. She listened when you spoke, and I mean really listened-not just to reply, but to understand. She believed in people, sometimes even more than they believed in themselves. And if you had an idea or a desire to try something different, she didn’t shoot it down with scepticism or bureaucracy. Instead, she leaned in, saw the potential, and almost always said, “Yes.”
One day, during my yearly appraisal meeting with Victoria, she asked me a question that seemed simple on the surface but was loaded with possibility: “What do you want to do?”
I didn’t hesitate. The words were out of my mouth before I even thought them through: “I want to code in Delphi, not RPG.”
Delphi was one of the first object-oriented programming languages out there, and our company had just acquired it. To me, Delphi represented creativity, innovation, and a way out of the monotony that had defined my programming life so far. But as soon as I said it, doubt crept in. Would she dismiss my request as unrealistic or impractical? Would she tell me to stay in my lane and stick to what I knew?
Victoria didn’t say a word at first. She just looked at me, her expression calm but thoughtful. Then, without hesitation, she picked up her desk phone, dialled the IT department, and said, “Take Anna’s mainframe console away and give her a PC. Load Delphi because she’s going to work on that from now on.”
Just like that, my programming life changed. In a single moment, Victoria gave me more than a new tool or a different project-she gave me freedom, trust, and belief. She didn’t just see me as a cog in the machine; she saw my potential and acted on it. Her decision wasn’t about the company’s immediate needs or the effort it would take to make the switch. It was about investing in me as a person.
Victoria didn’t just teach me programming lessons; she taught me life lessons. From her, I learned the power of respect-not just for others, but for yourself and your aspirations. She showed me the value of integrity, of standing by your principles and doing the right thing even when it’s inconvenient. She embodied compassion in the way she led, always considering the person behind the role. She modelled active listening, making you feel like your voice mattered. And most importantly, she demonstrated the transformative power of believing in someone, of giving them the chance to step into something new and prove themselves.
Because of Victoria, I didn’t just become a better programmer; I became a better person. I carried her lessons with me, applying them not only in my career but in every interaction where respect, empathy, and belief could make a difference. Victoria wasn’t just my boss-she was a mentor, a role model, and a catalyst for change.
Looking back, I realize that we all have the power to be someone’s Victoria. We can choose to listen deeply, to believe in others, and to take a chance on them when they’re ready to grow. And who knows? That one simple “Yes” might just change someone’s life forever.