They Call Me Senior Dev

The expectation vs reality of code collaboration. Left side: dreamy thoughts about teamwork and shared brilliance. Right side: the existential crisis that hits when you actually see their spaghetti code with zero comments, nested ternaries, and variables named 'x1', 'x2', and 'final_x_i_promise'. Nothing quite matches the psychological damage of inheriting someone's "it works, don't touch it" masterpiece.

Ah, the classic agile death march. Manager shocked that someone dares question their "optimized" workflow while developers live the nightmare of back-to-back sprints with no breathing room. Fun fact: The Agile Manifesto actually values "sustainable pace" but somehow that page got mysteriously torn out of every manager's copy. Weird coincidence.

Behold, corporate problem-solving at its finest. One developer in a hole actually doing the work while eight people stand around "supervising." The two project managers are probably discussing which Jira board to create while the "analysts" (air quotes required) prepare PowerPoints about the hole. Meanwhile, the designer is concerned about whether the dirt pile has proper user affordances. The customer liaison is just there to say "the client wants it deeper" every 15 minutes.

THE ULTIMATE MULTITASKER! Your Uber driver is out here casually reviewing code and merging pull requests while navigating traffic like it's NOTHING. Meanwhile, I have a mental breakdown when my IDE takes 3 seconds to load. San Francisco has evolved beyond mere mortals—they've unlocked the forbidden combination of Git operations and traffic navigation! Next thing you know, they'll be deploying to production while parallel parking. The "LGTM" (Looks Good To Me) approval has never been so dangerously efficient! 💀

Junior: "Where's documentation?" Senior: "I AM THE DOCUMENTATION!" The final boss of every legacy codebase isn't the complexity—it's the grizzled veteran who wrote it all and never bothered documenting a single line. Why write comments when you can just be summoned like some mythical creature whenever something breaks? Nothing says job security like being the human equivalent of a 600-page technical manual that nobody wants to read.

The eternal saga of code reviews in one Slack message. Dude casually drops "i think cursor fixed it, can i merge?" and gets absolutely 875 replies of people tearing his code apart. That's not a code review—that's a digital intervention! Guarantee those replies are filled with "Actually..." and "Well, technically..." comments dissecting his cursor fix like it's a murder scene. Pro tip: never ask if you can merge unless you're prepared for your colleagues to discover every sin you've committed since learning to code.