Why Digitalization Projects Always Fail

Ah, the classic "promotion" trap. You're happily coding away, solving problems, delivering features, when suddenly management decides your reward for being competent is... more responsibility with barely any compensation increase. That moment when you realize "great opportunity" translates to "we need someone to handle all the meetings while still doing their regular work." The cat's face says it all - from peaceful contributor to panicked manager in four panels flat. The real kicker? Six months later they'll wonder why your code output has decreased. Pro tip: sometimes the best career move is staying exactly where you're happy.

The eternal curse of alphabetical order during standups! If your name starts with Y or Z, you're basically the Majin Buu of your dev team—forced to sit there menacingly as the hourglass of your patience drains while 23 other developers give their updates first. By the time it's your turn, half the team has mentally checked out, three people are secretly checking Slack, and you've had enough time to refactor your entire codebase in your head. The real power move? Legally changing your name to "AAaron" just to go first.

The bell curve of programming wisdom hits hard. The junior devs (IQ 55-70) and senior wizards (IQ 130-145) both preach simplicity, while the middle-management types with their "it has to have all the features!!" are trapped in complexity hell. After 15 years in this industry, I've watched countless projects collapse under their own weight because someone insisted on cramming in every possible feature. The truly enlightened know that elegance comes from ruthless simplification. Voltaire nailed it centuries ago, and we're still learning this lesson the hard way with every new framework, library, and enterprise application. The cycle is eternal: build it simple, complicate it needlessly, then spend years refactoring back to simplicity.

Nothing shatters the blissful state of flow like a surprise standup announcement with executive attendance. One minute you're peacefully wrestling with AngularJS dependencies, finally making progress after three hours of debugging—the next, you're frantically rehearsing how to explain why that "quick fix" from last week is still "almost done" while simultaneously trying to remember if you pushed any commits this sprint. The transition from coding euphoria to existential dread happens faster than a JavaScript framework becomes deprecated.

Who needs proper branching strategies when you can just dump everything into one glorious commit? The top shows a complex git branch workflow with multiple feature branches merging together - you know, what they teach in those fancy "best practices" courses. Meanwhile, the bottom shows what we actually do: one straight line of commits because who has time for that organized nonsense? Nothing says "I'll fix it in production" quite like bypassing code reviews and merging directly to main. Git blame? More like git shame.

The AUDACITY of clients to call their soul-crushing, architecture-destroying requests "just a small change"! 💀 Meanwhile, there I am, completely rewriting the entire codebase, questioning my career choices, and contemplating a new life as a goat farmer because their "tiny tweak" just demolished three weeks of work. The look on my face says it all - this is my villain origin story in four panels! That helpless shrug at the end? That's me accepting my fate while my git history weeps in the background.