Priorities Sorted (By Executive Golf Outings)

Every code review starts with righteous indignation. "Why would anyone write it this way?" Then you read it again. "No seriously, WHY?" By the third pass, you're questioning your own sanity. Finally, enlightenment hits: "Oh, that's why." Turns out the original author was dealing with some cursed edge case, a legacy system from 2003, or a database that returns null when it feels like it. The journey from "this is garbage" to "actually, I would've done the same thing" takes about 15 minutes and three cups of coffee. Bonus points if you end up apologizing in the PR comments.

The absolute HORROR of someone asking you to change your masterpiece! 😱 The sheer AUDACITY! Here we have Spider-Man (the experienced dev) telling his mini-me that his code is basically carved in stone tablets and brought down from Mount Sinai. "Permanent code" is the greatest myth since "temporary solutions" - it's just a dramatic way of saying "I wrote this spaghetti nightmare at 2am and I'm terrified to touch it again because THE WHOLE SYSTEM WILL COLLAPSE!" Let's be honest, we've all written that one feature where even WE don't remember how it works anymore. The boss dares to request a simple change and suddenly you're contemplating a career change to goat farming. 🐐

The infamous Suez Canal blockage meets software development! Programmers are the aircraft carrier trying to make actual progress, while project managers are the Ever Given ship blocking the entire canal with bureaucracy. Nothing kills productivity quite like the unholy trinity of timeline reviews, Jira updates, and the dreaded "let's have another status meeting." Meanwhile, actual code sits unwritten, bugs remain unfixed, and deadlines drift further into fantasy land. The greatest maritime disaster of 2021 perfectly symbolizes what happens when management processes become so bloated they prevent any actual work from getting done. But sure, let's discuss our sprint velocity while the ship is literally stuck.

When your coworker casually drops a commit labeled "Small Fixes" that changes 12,566 lines and deletes 10,508 lines. The shock and horror! That's not a small fix—that's reconstructive surgery on the codebase! Future you will be digging through git blame wondering what nuclear explosion happened that day. And good luck with the code review... "LGTM" is about to become "Let God Take Me."

When your boss demands to ship the app before the frontend is ready, so you just slap a smartwatch UI on it and call it a day. Nothing says "enterprise-ready solution" like checking your steps while also managing your database! That battery at 71% is more charged than the developer's will to live after this release. The best part? Some poor user is now navigating your entire backend with nothing but a rotating bezel and two buttons. Innovation at its finest—or desperation at its most creative.

Nothing says "career advancement" quite like desperately pleading to avoid accountability. Because who needs ownership, code reviews, or the ability to sleep at night when you can just... not be responsible? The beautiful irony here is that becoming a service owner means you'd actually have to care about uptime, monitoring, and those pesky production incidents. Much better to stay in the shadows where your technical debt can compound interest-free and your spaghetti code remains someone else's problem. Pro tip: if you're begging NOT to own something, you've probably already written the exact kind of code that makes service ownership a nightmare. The circle of life continues.