Blackjack

First day at PNC Bank. First real full-time job after college.

My boss walked over and dropped a book on my desk. Not a binder. A book. Maybe 600 pages. "Mastering VBA for Microsoft Office," or something close to it. The kind of book that makes a sound when it lands.

"Build me blackjack in Excel," he said. "You've got a few days."

The two analysts across from me, a year ahead and already battle-tested, exchanged a look. Then the smirks. They'd survived this initiation. Now it was my turn.

I had never written a line of code in my life.

I don't remember sleeping much that week. I remember the glow of my laptop at 2 AM. I remember functions that refused to work. I remember the strange thrill when something finally did.

I also remember realizing something about myself. That I liked puzzles without obvious answers. That I could teach myself things if I was willing to sit with not knowing for a while. That frustration and progress live closer together than I thought.

I got it working. Barely. It wasn't elegant, but the cards dealt, the logic held, and the game played.

I didn't touch code again for years. Not until I taught myself Java to build a student database. Late nights again, different stakes, same feeling.

But I still think about that first week.

In the end, it wasn't about VBA. It was the moment I learned I could try.

That's the thing about initiation rituals. The hazing part is obvious. The hidden gift is quiet. It's proof. Not that you know how to do something, but that you can learn to do something when it matters.

That book hit my desk 17 years ago. I'm still learning from that thud…