Engineers Ain't Made For Meetings

The classic developer escape plan. You build half a monstrosity, realize it's become a Lovecraftian nightmare of technical debt, then suddenly remember your cousin's startup needs a senior developer. Meanwhile, the grim reaper (aka those impossible projects) patiently waits at the company door for the next unsuspecting junior who'll inherit your undocumented spaghetti code. It's not abandonment—it's a strategic career advancement opportunity.

That special moment when you're halfway home on Friday and your phone buzzes with Slack notifications from the entire dev team. The calm expression hides the internal screaming as you realize your weekend just transformed into a 48-hour debugging marathon. The unwritten rule of software development: the severity of a production bug is directly proportional to how close you are to the weekend. And somehow, it's always the one line of code you thought was "too simple to test."

The Ever Given ship stuck in the Suez Canal perfectly represents my project management skills. That massive hull labeled "MY TO-DO LIST OF PROJECTS" isn't going anywhere, while the tiny excavator labeled "MY PROGRESS" is just pathetically scraping away at the edge. Meanwhile, I'm off starting "ANOTHER TO-DO APP" because clearly that's what will solve my productivity issues. Nothing says "competent developer" like having 47 unfinished projects and deciding the solution is project number 48.

Ah, the classic junior dev documentation approach: when in doubt, take a screenshot, add some ALL CAPS text pointing to the obvious, draw an arrow, and don't forget that official signature of approval! This is peak "documentation complete" energy. The button literally says "PUSH TO LOCK" on it already, but our enthusiastic junior has created a whole supplementary user manual for this complex system. Next sprint feature: a 50-page PDF explaining how to use the office microwave.

Physics meets software engineering in this brilliantly accurate parody of Newton's First Law. That dormant side project you started six months ago? It'll stay collecting digital dust until your boss suddenly declares it's "mission-critical" for next week's release. And that perfectly flowing development sprint? It'll continue smoothly right until the client says those five dreaded words: "I've been thinking, what if..." The universal constant in software isn't gravity—it's the inverse relationship between project stability and proximity to deadlines.

The most elegant knowledge transfer in software development history: Panel 1: "This is my code" = Translation: "Here's my undocumented spaghetti mess with zero comments and variable names like 'temp1' and 'x2'" Panel 2: "It's your problem now" = Translation: "I've been secretly planning my exit for months while deliberately avoiding writing any documentation" Panel 3: "I'm out" = Translation: "Good luck finding me on LinkedIn when everything breaks in production next week" Panel 4: [Empty panel with just the poor developer] = Translation: The exact moment when existential dread sets in and you realize you're now responsible for 50,000 lines of code written by someone who clearly hated both you and future-them.