Quantum Disbelief

A couple of years back, I hopped on board with a tech firm I'll call IntellectY (not the real name, of course). They welcomed me with a bunch of swag and a ton of accolades, claiming I’d be tackling a national crisis. The pay was good.

The onboarding process went smoothly. I was assigned a colleague and a project manager, and I only had to attend one meeting per week. The company organized a weekly two-hour session where everyone would share updates on their projects, which felt odd to me as most of them would boast about what their product or feature could do for the future. I prefer focusing on the tasks I've completed rather than discussing their potential impact, as I'm more of a straightforward, action-oriented person. Over time, these meetings became bothersome, and I realized that some felt similarly.

The first red flag I noticed was the CEO's murky legal past. One of his cases even made it into a college law textbook, highlighting how he and his wife lived beyond their means, writing off lavish expenses, dinners, and trips.

My first ethical challenge at IntellectY arose when we began marketing our product as "quantum" technology designed to alleviate port congestion. In reality, genuine quantum technology should utilize quantum computers for faster problem-solving, but we were essentially bluffing. Our API did have the capability to connect to DWAVE, a company known for its quantum annealer, but we had disabled that feature long ago. When it was active, DWAVE's system would time out 90% of the time, and the remaining 10% of the results were useless compared to our original engineer's messy yet effective classical code. DWAVE itself has a questionable legal history, sometimes accused of making dubious claims about their technology.

One day, a former colleague alerted me that our client might be trying to reverse engineer our solution, specifically the truck appointment system and container stacking logic. The logs indicated that this was probably accurate, as our test lane API was being accessed frequently from a location in India, where their database engineer was based. This engineer, known for creating their problematic unnormalized system, had a reputation for being particularly challenging to collaborate with, especially when problems occurred. In the end, the claim that they reverse-engineered our solution did not stand up during mediation.

On a separate occasion, our database encountered a problem while I was preoccupied with other tasks. A data scientist, who preferred not to be referred to as an engineer, was working with machine learning on the database and inadvertently created an uncontrolled table. This resulted in excessive SQL Server charges for the client due to the unchecked expansion of the table. Consequently, the client received a hefty bill. It was quite embarrassing for me because we billed the client $6,000, an amount that could have easily been reduced by half.

In the spring, the client notified us that they no longer needed our services, and our company took legal action. My project manager was dismissed for falsifying his progress, and another colleague was also terminated. The situation grew increasingly tense.
Following these events, I was reassigned to a Python project focused on AI for document-based user interactions. However, as a .NET (C#) Engineer specializing in SQL Server, I have no interest in Python development.

Our Python/React app enabled users to chat with their documents but always depended on third-party LLMs. One day, the owner started claiming we were offering a RAG or even our own LLM, leading the industry. He tended to exaggerate. I can't count how many client meetings I attended where I saw disbelief.

I was once instructed to spend more than a month developing an integration with a major storage web app, only to later discover it was for Azure Gov, which we couldn't access. If we had known this sooner, it would have saved us a significant amount of effort.

I anticipated a conflict with the lead Python developer, a young man with different ideas and an overcritical attitude. Refusing to work with such personalities, I stepped back and let him handle the pressure. Surprisingly, this led to his resignation, and I ended up taking over his role, which I didn't enjoy. I became proficient in Docker, React, and Python, despite my lack of interest. Ironically, we became friends later on (shared misery?).

The company struggled, losing contracts and facing financial difficulties. On the departing developer's last day, the owner promised to hire five more developers, likely because the developer aspired to lead a team and it was a ploy to show him we were growing. However, no new hires were made, and the financial situation worsened. The young developer advised me to heed the Chief Science Officer's sarcastic comments during morning meetings, as they often contained truth.
I closely listened to the CSO's remarks, which were revealing. He claimed the company could last two years financially, but I suspected only one year was the real truth. He joked about the owner's ventures leading to financial ruin, which proved true for him, as he drained his 401k on speculative projects and trendy buzzwords.

The organization appeared to generate revenue through two main avenues: patent litigation and government grants. While the income from patent litigation was relatively small, the government grants were moderately profitable. The company would employ trendy terms such as neural-network, quantum, natural language, unstructured data, and deep learning to market fake products. This strategy often secured them a Government Proof of Concept Contract, potentially worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Eventually, the government would catch on, typically within 3-6 months, and terminate the contract—though the company would still receive payment. Despite this, the company was never blacklisted, allowing them to repeatedly exploit the same grift against the Government. The organization would later employ a third grift to try to gain money from "quantum" investors.

I admired the CSO and see him as a victim in this situation. He was kind to me and managed my workload until he couldn't protect us anymore. As an early investor, he put a lot into the company, using his 401k and savings. I feel bad even mentioning this.

One day, I was asked to help the owner's partner company with database work, but I refused as I wasn't employed by them, deeming it unethical. Despite working weekends and implementing a large language model for a client, the company's financial issues continued. The owner's suggestion to "open source" the entire company was absurd and shattered my remaining faith.

They illegally withheld three paychecks, later reimbursing only two, and never matched 401k contributions. I thought about quitting earlier due to constant priority changes and overwhelming workloads. They misled clients with non-existent products, and I had to handle the aftermath. After learning about financial issues, I resigned. 

The company was creating another bogus product, filled with trendy buzzwords like neural networks. It was no better than a basic Windows Desktop search. They aimed to pitch it to government agencies and quantum investors, though it likely wouldn't function well and would be easily outdone by other offerings.

In my exit interview, I refused any offers to stay.
I chose to leave on "friendly" terms, sending a gift to a developer and a goodies basket to the CSO, who was also misled. I'm still friends with everyone except the owner and will miss many, including the data scientist who is now facing tough times.

The company’s mediation with a former client failed. They had relied on a settlement, but it backfired when a contract clause was not honored. The company now only exists in name only. Anyone working there is entirely doing it for free (by the time anyone reads this).

A few days after I resigned, another colleague did the same. I might take the CSO out for lunch soon. I feel terrible for him—his retirement and dreams are shattered.