Once upon a time, a colleague of mine became annoyed with another colleague of ours. Well, to be honest about it, nearly everyone in our development group became annoyed with this rather annoying individual. We were all working 60 hour weeks designing state-of-the-art software that would knock your socks off. Hours of white-board time with ideas thrown out and then just as quickly thrown away. Except the aforementioned jerk. He just sat there and wrote everything down. OK. Good idea. We all approved. But then he started sending memos to the big office. With his full name prominently displayed on everything that we had done, were doing, or were thinking of doing. Only his name, not any other name. Lets just call him 'Daniel J. Einstein, III' for the moment.
This was a long time ago, just shortly after stone tablets had been superseded by microcomputers with about 786 K RAM and that took hours to compile "Hello, World" variants. I'm not kidding. Have you ever heard of a '286 or a 386 or a 486 or even a Pentium. Well, we were developing on a 186. We were all so thrilled when we got our 186s because they had 10MB hard drives instead of 8 inch floppy drives. Anyway, I digress.
After development started, Daniel J Einstein, III sent memos to the big office every day, taking credit for any and all achievements made by our department. He spent hours on these memos, which meant that he actually contributed almost no concrete code. At first my annoyed colleague decided to fix Einstein by reprogramming his monitor display so that everything was printed in reverse. That is, all the words lined up on the right side and marched across the screen toward the left, but they were also printed backward as seen in a mirror. You could hear Einstein howl throughout the offices one afternoon when he finally booted up his computer and saw that it was 'broken.' The culprit volunteered to 'try' to trouble-shoot and get it running correctly. Which took about two minutes. Of course, Einstein took credit for fixing the problem.
Finally, my colleague came up with the perfect solution. Every time that the jerk typed 'Daniel J Einstein, III' on his computer, it was replaced with my colleague's opinion of Einstein's equine parentage. Automatically. It didn't matter how he typed it, once the full name was on the screen it would be replaced with an appropriate substitution. Over time, my friend added several variations on the Einstein name, permanently ending the self-aggrandizement.
In the end, my friend found that he had invented something that could be useful to himself and to others in automatically correcting misspelled words. He published a snippet as freeware and some years later, he was contacted by Microsoft to see whether he wanted to license the idea. He gave it to them at no charge. And you know the rest of the story....
As far as I know, my colleague is still living.