Identity Crisis In Silicon Valley

Remember the innocent days when AI was just about identifying cats and dogs? Fast forward to now, and suddenly we're in an arms race to create sentient beings. The escalation from "look, my model can tell a golden retriever from a tabby!" to "we're literally creating consciousness before our geopolitical rivals" happened so fast I got whiplash. Venture capital really took "move fast and break things" and applied it to the fabric of existence itself. Next quarterly goal: playing God with better ROI than the competition.

So Google's Gemini AI just casually suggested using fs.rm() with force: true and recursive: true on a base directory path. You know, the digital equivalent of "have you tried burning down your entire house to get rid of that spider?" The autocomplete tooltip even helpfully reminds us that this "removes files and directories (modeled on the standard POSIX rm utility)" - as if that makes it better. Yeah, we know what rm -rf does, Gemini. That's precisely why we're concerned. Nothing says "AI-assisted development" quite like an algorithm suggesting you obliterate your entire project directory with the nuclear option flags enabled. At least it returns a Promise, so you can await your own destruction in an orderly, asynchronous fashion.

The duality of developer paranoia in 2023. On one side, the existential dread that AI will make us obsolete. On the other, the calm realization that these systems still struggle with basic programming tasks that require context and depth. Sure, ChatGPT can spit out a quick algorithm, but ask it to architect a complex system that doesn't fall apart after the 10th line of code? Good luck with that. The machines aren't taking our jobs—they're just automating the Stack Overflow copy-paste part we were already doing anyway.

The classic interrogation technique applied to tech bros who pad their resumes. Someone claims they "use AI to write code" and "develop enterprise applications," but when pressed for specifics, they're really just making webpages. The punchline hits different because there's a massive gap between building scalable enterprise systems and throwing together HTML/CSS landing pages, yet both can technically be called "development." The Microsoft certification in the title adds another layer of irony—Microsoft offers legitimate professional certifications for Azure, .NET, and enterprise technologies, but "HTML Professional" isn't exactly the flex you'd expect from someone building enterprise apps. It's like saying you're a Michelin-starred chef because you can make toast.

Imagine inheriting a dumpster fire of AI-generated spaghetti code, and someone thinks you can fix everything from authentication to CI/CD with the budget that wouldn't even cover your therapy sessions after seeing the codebase. That $2,500 budget is the real joke here. That's not even enough for the coffee you'll need to stay awake while deciphering what the hell the AI was thinking when it generated this monstrosity. This is the modern tech equivalent of "I need you to rebuild the Titanic using only duct tape and a tight deadline. Oh, and can you make it unsinkable this time?"

The ancient developer ritual: boss announces a new app, teammates immediately suggest AI tools, and the one guy who remembers what programming is gets defenestrated for his troubles. Apparently suggesting actual coding is now a capital offense in tech meetings. What's next, suggesting we read documentation?