One of the IV6.73 class. We did a few stints together then, like publishing the school's magazine, once with the Hungarian page almost missing, then more then dobly making up for it - and were criticized both times.
Then my roommate for a semester; after the winter break, went to live in a cheaper place, in a very peasantly adobe house with reed roof - saw it only once and was amazed how such a building survived not a kilometer from downtown Novi.
Then he was roommates with Franci one semester, and I took his place the next one.
His zigzag career of a young engineer led him from a brick plant to the city brewery to the science institute within the Kombinat to the computing centre (also within Kombinat, but independent). There he was when I co-opted him for the task of building the DBA. That's how the history began.
OTOH, he also went from an aspiring young poet and sometimes painter to a scruffy capitalist, who is always ready to charge you handsomely for some junk PC he'd sell. I remember that Tereza, oma, my dad and a few others were such customers. While in Avai, when Brlja and I asked to see the business results for the current quarter, he presented us with a completely unreadable excel sheet, heavily interlinked and this or that number coming as a result of calculation upon a range of cells from another sheet in the same file, all in color and quite inscrutable. I guessed that if he's swindling anything, there wouldn't be a way to find it without wasting a week on it. So we let it go.
A staunch anti-smoker. He did some heavy number on his older son when he caught him smoking second time, to the point that the boy was stuttering for years. If you have chain smokers on one end of the scale, the sometimes smokers (who smoke one or two but not every year), the rabid ex-smokers turned antismokers would be on the other end. Then two empty positions before we get to his end of the scale. But I do have one picture, from november 1977, with him smoking. We were drunk, though, but still.
The worst thing he did to me was promote me to be programmers' chief, with +20% on the salary, that shouldn't take me more than two hours a week. My sole responsibility, apart from what I was doing before, was to assess the work of the guys on my team and suggest a salary correction for the past month, ranging between -10% and +10%. Since our salaries were a zero sum game, this would mean I'd cut every other guy a bit to tap on one shoulder, or lay heavily on one shoulder to have others enjoy half a bag of peanuts. The insult was in the proprtion - two hours a week earn me 16,7%, while the remaining 38 hours earn me the remaining 83,3%. Which means that bossing around is 3,8 times more worth than programming. That's a spit in the face of the profession. I tolerated it for a month or two and then resigned the position, went back to being a programmer. He's learning capitalism from wrong books.
About drink in hand: „It never hurt me, and now it pleases me“.
„Listen to me, do as you know how“.
„You asked for it, now watch for what you'll do“.
„Have no worry, sit down and cry“