They Call Me Senior Dev

Ah, the inevitable evolution of every code warrior! First you're Patrick Star - blissfully unaware that your "hello world" program is held together with digital duct tape. Then comes the SpongeBob phase - bright-eyed and thinking "I'll revolutionize tech with my clean code practices!" Fast forward a few years and *boom* - you're Squidward, staring at legacy code written by your past self, wondering why you chose this career path instead of opening that beach-side taco stand. The transformation from "what's a semicolon?" to "I will end whoever wrote this dependency" is basically a developer rite of passage. It's not burnout, it's enlightenment! 🧘‍♂️

Ah, the classic developer self-deception pipeline! First stage: "Clean code? Pfft, that's for people with time to spare." Second stage: "It's just a prototype, don't judge!" Third stage: "I'll definitely refactor this... someday." Final stage: "Well, this spaghetti code is now a load-bearing wall in production and my boss wants new features yesterday." The transformation from confident developer to technical debt clown is complete! The greatest fiction in software isn't science fiction—it's the myth of "I'll clean it up later."

THE AUDACITY of companies thinking they're "agile" just because they force everyone to use Jira! 💀 It's like buying gym equipment and expecting to get fit without actually exercising! Meanwhile, project managers are frantically creating 57 different epics, backlogs, and sprints while the actual code sits untouched for WEEKS. The truth hurts so bad that if PMs could actually comprehend this sign, they'd have an existential crisis right in the middle of their 3-hour sprint planning meeting. But don't worry - they're too busy color-coding tickets to notice!

The perfect encapsulation of modern corporate development culture. You spend 90% of your time in meetings discussing features that will never see the light of day, while your actual coding time shrinks to whatever's left between "sync-ups" and "alignment sessions." The grumpy cat perfectly captures that dead-inside feeling when you realize your job title says "developer" but your calendar says "professional meeting attendee." The genius insight here? Can't have technical debt if you never write any actual code. *taps forehead*

That moment when your casual "yeah, I'll do it tomorrow" joke backfires spectacularly because your PM immediately updates the Jira ticket with a hard deadline. Suddenly your theoretical timeline becomes an official commitment, and your soul leaves your body as you realize you've played yourself. The panic sets in—you haven't even looked at the requirements doc, there's that weird legacy code you've been avoiding, and now it's officially due tomorrow. Congratulations, you've turned your harmless banter into a binding contract faster than you can say "git commit --amend".

This is basically the "Fox, Chicken, and Grain" logic puzzle repackaged as the ultimate management nightmare. Except instead of preventing your chicken from being eaten, you're preventing your team from murdering each other. The solution? Move the bore first, then the idiot, then bring the bore back, then move the asshole, and finally move the bore again. Though the real power move would be to just quit and find a company with functioning HR. And they say technical interviews are unrealistic...