Hello, everyone. I'm Mark Shavlik, a seasoned software engineer with decades in the tech trenches building software used to secure millions of computers over that past few decades.
If you ever installed a critical patch on a Windows Server in the early 2Ks, if you know what HFNetchk, or you use WSUS which is developed on my designs and data models, or used the first Microsoft security product, the very popular Microsoft Baseline Security Advisor (MBSA), or you are using our latest Security Drift Manger you know of the things I created, all working with great teams.
Or if you've just poked around my LinkedIn profile, you'll see a career that's spanned everything from early Unix variants, working on the initial Window NT team, to Client/Server to building to modern cloud security solutions. You will also see my race car driving training on LinkedIn and soon I will add my boxing training but those are for another day.
But today, I want to take you back to the mid;1980s; a time when personal computers were just starting to revolutionize the world, and Microsoft was on the cusp of becoming the juggernaut we know today. This is the story of how I got started at Microsoft, involving a bit of Unix magic, a legendary drive-in restaurant, a negotiation with Steve Ballmer's point person, and an accidental "double dip" that coincided with one of the most famous IPOs in tech history. Buckle up; it's a tale of persistence, timing, and a dash of good fortune!
The Spark: Diving into Xenix at Boeing in 1985
My Microsoft story really begins in 1985, when I was working at Boeing in Seattle. Back then, I was knee-deep in building C applications for Microsoft Xenix, an operating system that might sound obscure now but was a big deal at the time. For those unfamiliar, Xenix was Microsoft's licensed version of Unix, adapted for microcomputers. It started as a port of AT&T's Unix Version 7, and Microsoft announced it in 1980, renaming it because they couldn't use the "Unix" trademark. By the mid- to late-1980s, Xenix had become the most widely installed Unix variant, powering systems across various hardware like the Intel 8086, Motorola 68000, and even the Apple Lisa. It's wild to think that Microsoft, the company synonymous with Windows and MS-DOS, once dominated the Unix market. They licensed it to OEMs like Intel, Tandy, and SCO, who customized it for their hardware. At its peak, Xenix installations were projected to hit hundreds of thousands, and it was praised for its multiuser and multitasking capabilities; features that made it ideal for business environments where MS-DOS fell short.
At Boeing, we were exploring advanced computing solutions, and Xenix caught our eye for its robustness. I remember spending long hours coding in C, tweaking applications to run smoothly on this Unix-like system. It felt cutting-edge, a far cry from the simpler DOS-based tools most folks were using. One day, our team visited Microsoft to learn more about a word processor they were developing; likely an early version of what would become Microsoft Word. The visit was eye-opening. Here was this young company in Bellevue, buzzing with energy, pushing the boundaries of software. I got a taste of their culture: innovative, ambitious, and a little chaotic. It planted a seed. I thought, "This is where I need to be."
The Application: Aiming for the Building Next to Burgermaster
Inspired by that visit, I decided to apply to Microsoft in 1986. At the time, their offices were in the Northup Building in Bellevue, right next to the iconic Burgermaster drive-in restaurant. Oh, Burgermaster; now that's a piece of Microsoft lore. From 1981 to 1986, Microsoft employees practically lived off their burgers. The restaurant was so integral that it earned a spot in company speed dials, and employees could call in orders and dash next door for pickup. Legend has it that Bill Gates's secretary had it on speed dial, and it even influenced Windows development: In Windows 3.0, a critical data segment was codenamed "BurgerMaster" because developers could see the sign from their windows. They called it the "most important segment in Windows," mirroring the restaurant's status as the go-to eatery. Burgermaster wasn't just a lunch spot; it was woven into the fabric of early Microsoft life, symbolizing those scrappy days when the company was still finding its footing.
I submitted my application to that Bellevue office, envisioning myself grabbing a quick bite between coding sessions. But weeks passed with no response. Crickets. I figured maybe I wasn't a fit, or perhaps my resume got lost in the shuffle. Microsoft was growing fast, after all; from a small outfit in Albuquerque to a Bellevue powerhouse with products like MS-DOS and Xenix gaining traction.
The Call: From Rejection to Sherwood Forest
Just when I'd nearly given up, the phone rang. It was Microsoft, but not from the old office. They were moving to a new campus in Redmond, and they wanted me to come in for an interview at what was once dubbed "Sherwood Forest." This referred to Buildings 1 through 4 on the new Redmond campus, a set of X-Wing shaped structures built starting in 1985. The move from Bellevue to Redmond in 1986 was a big deal; some employees grumbled about the "remote" location, but it marked Microsoft's expansion into what would become its sprawling headquarters. Building 1 was the first, a modest two-story affair, and Building 4 housed Bill Gates's corner office. These buildings were the heart of early Redmond operations, hosting everything from software development to Microsoft Press. Navigating them was notoriously tricky; people often got lost in the maze-like layouts. Sadly, they were demolished in 2019 to make way for a massive renovation; 18 new buildings totaling 3 million square feet, complete with open spaces, underground parking, and sustainability features like recycled timber. But back in '86, Sherwood Forest was the future.
The interview went well, and soon I was negotiating with Steve Ballmer's team. Steve was already a force; energetic, persuasive, the kind of guy who could sell anything to anybody.
The Negotiation: Lowball Offers and the Stock Surprise
The initial offer? Disappointing. It was lower than what I was making at Boeing, and they threw in some stock options. But Microsoft wasn't even public yet; who put value on pre-IPO stock? It felt insulting, like monopoly money. I politely declined, explaining it didn't make sense financially.
That's when Steve got involved. He passed on feedback: "Mark, take the offer and start in two days." I countered that I couldn't just bail on Boeing; professional courtesy demanded two weeks' notice. Steve, ever the dealmaker, came back with a curveball: "OK, take this offer and start in two days, but stay at Boeing for the full two weeks." Wait, what? A double dip; getting paid by both companies simultaneously? It sounded too good to be true, but I jumped on it. For those two weeks, I was pulling double duty, wrapping up at Boeing while ramping up at Microsoft. It was exhausting but exhilarating.
Then, the bombshell: Just two days after I started at Microsoft, the company went public on March 13, 1986. The IPO was a smash hit and those "worthless" stock options? Suddenly golden, even if modest by today’s standards, and the tech world was forever changed. My timing couldn't have been better; pure serendipity. If I'd waited or pushed harder, I might have missed out.
My Microsoft Odyssey: Window Seats, Seinfeld Strategies, and the Hardware That Got Away
I set up shop in the brand-new Building Two, which would be my home for the next five hardworking years. As my career at Microsoft progressed, I eventually scored a coveted window office overlooking Lake Bill. It was a prime spot, with Bill Gates' own office positioned directly across that diminutive lake; which, in my early days, had loomed so vast and impressive in my mind. Since our workspaces faced each other head-on, I adopted a clever routine: arriving just before him each morning and slipping out shortly after he departed. It was reminiscent of George Costanza on Seinfeld, perpetually giving off the vibe that I was always plugged in and present.
Shifting gears to the 1980s, Microsoft harbored ambitions to dive into hardware design, and I was all in on that vision. To position myself for the team, I even enrolled in an electrical engineering course at the University of Washington. Alas, the hardware dream evaporated for both the company and me. Personally, I found software far more engaging and fun to tinker with. But for Microsoft, those initial hardware concepts were promising; we were crafting a Standard Hardware guide to pave the way for our future advanced operating systems. I have a hunch that OEM heavyweights like Intel weren't thrilled; a universal standard like that could have shattered their market stronghold, empowering anyone to whip up compatible systems. Intel's architecture, with its awkward segmented setup, was uniquely flawed yet irreplaceable. Once Microsoft latched onto it, the infamous Wintel partnership was sealed; dare we whisper the word "monopoly"?
Reflections: Lessons from the Early Days
Looking back, those five years in Building Two were formative. Microsoft in the '80s was a whirlwind: We shipped groundbreaking software, from enhancements to Xenix (which by 1987 had SCO taking over development, but Microsoft kept using it internally for email and more) to the rise of Windows. The culture was intense; long hours, but with a sense of building something monumental. Sherwood Forest might have been demolished, but the spirit lives on in Microsoft's modern campus, now a "downtown feel" hub with light rail access and eco-friendly designs.
This experience taught me a few key lessons. First, persistence pays off; don't take silence as rejection. Second, negotiate boldly; you never know what's around the corner. Third, timing is everything, but you can't always plan it. Sometimes, fortune favors the bold (or the double-dipping!).
If you're in tech today, remember those early Unix roots. Microsoft wasn't always about Windows; it was about adaptability, from Xenix dominance to today's Azure empire. Thanks for reading my trip down memory lane. What's your wildest career story? Drop it in the comments - 'd love to hear.
Cheers,
Mark Shavlik
LinkedIn: Mark Shavlik
