Software companies really out here asking you to stop pirating their $600 software while simultaneously demanding you buy it at full price. Like, my guy, if I had $600 lying around, I wouldn't be pirating it in the first place. The circular logic is chef's kiss. It's giving "entry-level position requiring 5 years of experience" energy. Fun fact: Studies have shown that software pirates often become paying customers once they can actually afford it. Turns out, people who learned Photoshop through "alternative means" in college tend to push for their companies to buy legitimate licenses later. But sure, keep yelling at broke students instead of offering reasonable pricing tiers.

You know that moment when someone asks you a technical question in an interview and you freeze like a deer in headlights, desperately trying to retrieve information from the cobweb-filled corners of your brain? The thick Ray-Bans represent that false confidence we all walk in with, thinking we're hot stuff. Then boom—question hits, buffering mode activated for what feels like an eternity, and suddenly you're channeling your inner used car salesman with "Certainly!" before trailing off into the void with "The variable is—" because your brain just blue-screened. The awkward pause, the overcompensating enthusiasm, the sentence that goes nowhere—it's the technical interview equivalent of your code compiling on the first try (suspicious). That stare perfectly captures the interviewer's internal monologue: "Should I help them? Should I just end this now? Why did they put 'expert' on their resume?" Pro tip: Next time just say "let me think about that for a second" instead of pretending your neural network is still loading the weights.

You know that look when someone asks you to explain code you wrote six months ago? Now imagine that, but the code was written by someone who left the company three years ago, has zero documentation, and somehow still runs in production. That's Viber engineering in a nutshell. The monkey puppet meme captures that exact moment of existential dread when you realize you have no idea how any of it works, but you're too deep in to admit it. The code just... exists. It functions. Nobody touches it. Nobody questions it. It's like that load-bearing comment in the codebase—remove it and everything collapses. Props to whoever maintains Viber though. Legacy messaging apps are basically digital archaeology at this point. Every commit is like defusing a bomb while wearing oven mitts.