It Was Not My Fault

That rare moment of pride when you finally take the plunge and modify production code directly because "it's just a small fix." The formal announcement is necessary because you've spent years hearing "never touch prod" but here you are, living dangerously. Sure, you probably violated six company policies and bypassed three approval workflows, but hey—the customer's happy and nobody died! Let's just hope this doesn't become the first chapter in your upcoming book: "How I Learned to Update My Resume in a Hurry."

Junior devs frantically running around while everything's on fire, desperately trying to fix bugs they probably created themselves. Meanwhile, senior devs are just sunbathing next to the same dumpster fire—not because they don't care, but because they've seen this exact disaster 47 times before and know the world isn't actually ending. They'll fix it... right after their mental health break. The real senior dev superpower isn't coding wizardry—it's the ability to remain perfectly calm while production is literally exploding.

The fastest way to burn through $100M? Just whisper "AWS" and watch your bank account evaporate. That SRE knew exactly what they were doing - nothing drains a budget faster than spinning up a few "right-sized" EC2 instances and forgetting about them for a weekend. The genie immediately adding a fourth rule is basically Amazon's business model in a nutshell. Honestly, at least gambling gives you a chance of winning something back.

When your entire career revolves around version control but you can't control your dad jokes. The classic naming convention gone wrong—kid's not a branch you can just merge later! Somewhere in the world, there's a developer named "Commit" whose dad thought he was being clever. The real tragedy? That kid probably grew up to use Mercurial instead.

The classic corporate bait-and-switch! Manager gleefully announces "no more daily standups" like he's bestowing a gift from the heavens, only to reveal the true horror: writing detailed Slack messages every morning instead. The final panels show the developers' brilliant malicious compliance—using ChatGPT to auto-generate those meaningless status updates. This is peak modern workplace evolution: replacing a 15-minute meeting with an hour of typing, then automating away the busywork with AI. The circle of corporate life is complete. The manager thinks he's won, but the devs are playing 4D chess while he's still figuring out how to open Excel.

Nothing quite captures that first production deployment like a puppy discovering mirrors. One minute you're admiring your beautiful code that passed all the tests, and the next you're frantically checking logs at 2AM wondering how your elegant solution is somehow bringing down the entire system. That moment when you realize the safety net of code reviews was actually more like a suggestion, and now your name is forever attached to that incident report. Welcome to the club, kid. We've all been there—staring at our reflections, questioning our career choices.