At Least They Pay Well

The career trajectory nobody asked for but everyone's secretly living. Started as a student in 2022, climbed to developer in 2023, then speedran through "Prompt Engineer" in 2024 (because why write code when you can write essays to ChatGPT?), evolved into a "Vibe coder" in 2025 (just vibing with the AI, no actual understanding required), became an "AI agent" in 2026 (congrats, you're now the one being automated), and finally... farmer in 2027. The punchline hits different when you realize we're watching the entire software industry get disrupted in reverse. From writing actual code to just prompting AI, to becoming obsolete, to literally growing potatoes. The devolution is real. At least farming has better job security than JavaScript frameworks—tomatoes don't deprecate every six months. Fun fact: The term "back to basics" takes on a whole new meaning when "basics" means subsistence agriculture instead of binary search trees.

When you're pair programming with an AI assistant and suddenly realize you need to claim credit for the code it just wrote. Nothing screams "totally my original work" like asking Claude to commit without attribution. The git history will just show your name, your commit message, your glory – while Claude sits there like an uncredited ghostwriter. It's the digital equivalent of copying your friend's homework but changing the font. Pro tip: at least use git commit --author="Claude <[email protected]>" if you want to keep your karma intact. But hey, who needs ethics when you've got that sweet, sweet green contribution graph to maintain?

Microsoft's entire user base when they announced Copilot would be embedded into Windows 11. Nobody asked for an AI assistant that uses 2GB of RAM just to tell you the weather, but here we are. The enthusiasm gap between Microsoft's boardroom and actual users has never been wider—they're out here acting like we've been desperately waiting for our OS to hallucinate file locations and suggest we "try turning it off and on again" in a more conversational tone. The collective exodus speaks volumes: some fled to Linux, others just disabled every AI feature they could find in Settings (good luck finding them all). Meanwhile, Microsoft's still convinced this is what innovation looks like.

The classic developer journey from "I'm a genius" to full clown makeup. Starts with that sweet dopamine hit of adding a cool feature to your solo project. Then reality kicks in—bugs multiply like rabbits, edge cases appear from the shadow realm, and suddenly you're asking ChatGPT to mathematically prove your spaghetti code works. Three months later, you're staring at a Frankenstein's monster of a codebase that would make any senior dev weep. The only rational solution? Nuke it from orbit with git revert and pretend it never happened. Feature creep speedrun any%.

The eternal disconnect between "sharing" and what you're actually sharing. Someone just discovered Claude can write code and thinks they've built the next Facebook, but they're literally sharing localhost:3000—a URL that only exists on their own machine. It's like inviting everyone to your house party but giving them directions to your bedroom mirror. For the uninitiated: localhost is your computer's way of talking to itself. Port 3000 is typically where dev servers run. So this person is excitedly telling the internet to check out a website that... only they can see. The confidence-to-competence ratio here is *chef's kiss*. Zero coding knowledge, fully functioning delusion.

Someone just asked an AI to "vibe code" their entire application and now they're shocked—SHOCKED—that maybe, just maybe, they should've thought about security before deploying to production. It's like building a house by vibing with a hammer and then asking "hey, should I have used nails?" The beautiful irony here is that they're asking for a prompt to fix security issues in code that was generated by... prompts. It's prompts all the way down. Next they'll be asking for a prompt to write prompts that generate prompts for securing their vibe-coded masterpiece. Pro tip: If your development methodology can be described with words like "vibe," maybe don't skip the part where you actually understand what your code does before yeeting it into production.