In high school, I got a summer job at this local accounting firm. I don't even remember what I was hired for —probably paperwork— but pretty soon I was doing some programming for them. The owner was rich, but cheap, so he asked me to write a simple invoicing tool for their smallest clients. That way, he avoided a costly upgrade for his existing software, at a fraction of the price. I knew I was being underpaid big time, so I would make a mental note of the bugs I'd find, but avoid fixing some of the minor ones. I did not plant deliberate ones. Invariably, when school started, they would call me to go in once or twice a year to fix something. I'd chat with the guys most of the afternoon, change the code over a few minutes, then collect my "tip". I didn't feel too guilty because the owner was paying me a pittance, but acted like he was showering me with millions and treating me very well. I was young, but not naive. I could and would have done a lot more if only he hadn't been so condescending. Plus, some of his business and clients sounded a bit sketchy, although I had no proof.

In another occasion, I cracked the copy protection on one of their applications. They had a full license, but the protection relied on a magic 5¼ floppy disk and their new machine only had a 3½ drive.

I promised myself I'd never work on accounting software again. Later, I ignored the owner's questions about what kind of internet businesses to invest in. He was dangling some of his money in front of me, but I didn't fall for it. Which was a good call, because a few years afterwards, he got in trouble for aiding his sketchy clients I mentioned above.