The First Rule Of IT: Never Jinx A Quiet Day

Ah yes, the classic "my tests pass in isolation" syndrome. The soldier in camo is proudly directing deadly weapons away from the sleeping person, congratulating himself on his amazing unit tests. Meanwhile, production code is getting absolutely shredded by edge cases that the tests never bothered to check for. Sure, your function works great when you pass it exactly what you expect... shame users don't read your mind and follow your undocumented assumptions.

Congratulations on your corporate developer position! Your six-figure salary now compensates you for the thrilling adventures of: • Spending 3 hours waiting for IT to grant you access to a system you need for 5 minutes of work • Sitting through meetings that could've been emails while secretly coding your side project • Mastering proprietary tools built by someone who left 7 years ago with zero documentation • The exhilarating cycle of changing a button from blue to slightly-less-blue, then back again because "the VP didn't like it" • Rearranging JSON only to put it back exactly how it was because "there's a bug somewhere" • Frozen in carbonite during release freezes while your productivity slowly suffocates • Teaching interns how to use tools you barely understand yourself • Changing passwords every 30 days to increasingly complex combinations that you'll inevitably store in a text file called "definitely_not_passwords.txt" But hey, the coffee's free! (When the machine works.)

Ah, the classic "I could learn your entire career in a weekend" guy meets someone who actually knows what they're talking about. Nothing quite like watching someone claim coding is "not that hard" only to get absolutely demolished by a response asking if they can build APIs, databases, and deployment infrastructure. The cherry on top is the final response: "I could learn it in 8-9 days!" Sure, buddy. And I could become a neurosurgeon by watching YouTube tutorials. The Dunning-Kruger is strong with this one. This is why senior developers drink so much coffee. It's not the code that's exhausting—it's these conversations.

The holy trinity of "things that don't matter" according to people who have them in abundance. Rich folks saying money doesn't matter, attractive people claiming looks don't matter, and then the punchline – senior engineers at standups mumbling "no updates" while secretly working on the same bug for 3 days straight. Nothing says "leave me alone with my code" like the blank stare of a developer who'd rather debug in peace than explain why they're still wrestling with that one-line fix that should've taken 10 minutes. The daily standup: where developers perfect the art of saying absolutely nothing while looking productive.

The pinnacle of version control laziness: just add * to your .gitignore and call it a day. Why carefully select which files to ignore when you can ignore everything and manually add each file you want? It's like burning down your house to avoid cleaning it, then rebuilding one room at a time. Genius time-saving strategy until you need to git add -f 500 files. Works every time, 0% of the time.

Ah, the classic expectation vs. reality of package managers! Vanilla Lua looks like this majestic unicorn—elegant, magical, full of potential. Then you venture into the "ecosystem" with LuaRocks and suddenly you're dealing with a beaten-down horse with an industrial chimney for a horn. For the uninitiated, LuaRocks is Lua's package manager—theoretically making your life easier, but actually turning your pristine codebase into an industrial wasteland of dependencies. It's like npm but with fewer packages and somehow more existential dread. The true mark of a Lua veteran isn't writing beautiful code—it's surviving the package management apocalypse with your sanity intact.