Computers Don't Make Errors On Purpose

Ah yes, the sacred ritual of writing tests. Nobody wants to do them, but when that rare moment of inspiration strikes, you spend 45 minutes crafting the perfect variable name instead of actually testing anything. Look at those beautifully named constants! jennyWithCountryCode and jennySansCountryCode - probably took longer to name than the actual function they're testing. And you just know that developer felt an inappropriate amount of satisfaction after typing them. The real unit test was the clever variable names we made along the way.

Content When your software draws family trees and you get a recursion error imaflip.com

Looking at ( ( ) ) => { } ) ( ) ; and wondering how it works is like staring into the abyss of JavaScript's syntax flexibility. It's just nested parentheses, curly braces, and arrows having an existential crisis together. After 15 years of development, I still get cold sweats when I see code like this in production. Somewhere, a senior dev is nodding knowingly while secretly Googling "what does extra parenthesis in arrow function do" in an incognito tab.

The grumpy face never changes, just the multitasking skills. Before kids: "This code is garbage!" After kids: "This code is garbage AND I haven't slept in 3 days!" The true parallel processing isn't in your fancy algorithms—it's coding with one hand while holding a baby with the other. Somehow both scenarios involve cleaning up messes and debugging mysterious errors that make no logical sense. The only difference? One of them eventually grows up and stops crying. The code never does.

Trying to delete a branch with git branch -d only to get that passive-aggressive "not fully merged" error is like Git saying "I'm protecting you from yourself." So what do we do? Yell at Git and use the capital -D flag because WE'RE THE BOSS HERE. Git's safety mechanisms are cute until you've spent 8 hours debugging merge conflicts and just want that feature branch gone from your life forever.

The true family business - legacy COBOL code! Someone's friend just inherited a codebase last touched by mom in the 90s, while the reply cleverly points out this isn't the kind of inheritance pattern they teach in CS class. Nothing says job security like maintaining 30-year-old code written by your actual parent. The family that codes together, stays locked in maintenance hell together. If your resume says "COBOL" in 2023, banks are already throwing money at you while sobbing uncontrollably.