Straight To Prod

Ah, the classic code review escalation pattern. First, a technical question about WSL2. Then a polite explanation. Then suddenly the boss goes full nuclear: "I'm the head of engineering and could fire you" followed by "you'll be terminated and lose your 50K." Nothing says "healthy workplace culture" like threatening someone's career over a Windows Subsystem for Linux test. The corporate equivalent of bringing a flamethrower to a paper airplane fight.

Oh look, it's the miracle of modern IT support! While normal humans with ChatGPT are diligently writing things down or having professional meetings, the random IT guy at 3am is out in the digital cotton fields, violently beating the servers with a stick while his colleagues bend over in submission. This is the untold reality of system administration - when everything crashes at ungodly hours, there's no elegant solution. Just three sleep-deprived techs in a field of crashed servers, one wielding the sacred Stick of Rebooting while the others present their backends to the gods of uptime. And they say programming is all about elegant algorithms and clean code. Ha! Sometimes it's just percussive maintenance and prayer.

The top part shows a bracelet that supposedly "converts stress into electricity." The bottom part shows what happens when programmers wear it—they literally burst into flames from the sheer amount of stress-generated power. If tech companies installed these on their dev teams, they could probably power entire data centers during sprint deadlines. Forget nuclear fusion—we've been sitting on an infinite energy source this whole time: programmer anxiety during production deploys.

That moment when you're faced with the eternal developer dilemma: spend an entire day making the codebase better or just slap together some hacky solution that'll come back to haunt you in six months. The hand reaching for that "minimum effort hack" button is all of us at 4:55pm on a Friday. Sure, you could refactor everything properly, but then your PR would be 2000 files and nobody wants to review that monstrosity anyway. Technical debt? That's a problem for Future You. And Future You hates Current You for a reason.

The sweet bliss of chaos delegation! Nothing says "not my problem anymore" like pushing an 8000-line code monstrosity to GitHub and immediately entering hibernation mode. Your colleagues will wake up to that absolute unit of a pull request while you're dreaming peacefully, completely disconnected from the impending code review apocalypse. The perfect crime doesn't exi— Meanwhile, when someone else does this to you, it's suddenly a war crime worthy of The Hague. Funny how that works.

The first comment: "When I do git blame, it's not about finding the person who did the mistake. I want to find out when the code was added, which task it was related to, and if I need more details, the person who wrote the code." The reply: "I use git blame just to make sure it wasn't me before I go on a tirade..." Ah yes, the two types of developers. The professional who uses tools for their intended purpose, and the rest of us who just want plausible deniability before ranting in Slack. Nothing quite like that moment of relief when you discover someone else wrote that abomination, followed by the crushing realization it was actually you from three years ago.