Be Honest

The harsh reality of Git commands visualized with brutal accuracy. Landing a plane? That's your git commit - looks smooth but you're still touching ground. Taking off with git push ? Sure, your code's airborne but there's always turbulence ahead in production. And then there's git add - literally passengers climbing stairs to nowhere in the middle of a desert. That's what happens when you stage files without knowing what the hell you're actually including. Seven years as a lead and I still catch juniors blindly adding everything with git add . and wondering why their API keys ended up on GitHub.

The graph that exposes our dirty little secret. Nothing says "I trust this code completely" like scrolling at Mach 10 through a 10,000-line PR while muttering "yeah, seems fine" under your breath. The curve shoots up exponentially because we all know the unspoken rule: the longer the PR, the less anyone actually reads it. By line 5,000, you're basically just admiring how pretty the syntax highlighting looks while hitting that approve button. For bonus points, drop an "LGTM" comment to prove you definitely, absolutely, 100% read every single line. Trust me, your future self debugging production at 3 AM will be so grateful.

That murderous rage when HR hires someone who claims "5 years of experience" but can't figure out how to clone a Git repository. Senior devs transforming into anime villains as they watch the new hire struggle with basic terminal commands while earning nearly the same salary. The dark energy isn't just for show—it's the physical manifestation of having to explain what a constructor is for the fifth time this week.

Treating yourself like a software project is peak developer energy. While everyone else is promising to hit the gym, this guy's posting a changelog for himself like he just pushed to production. The real joke is thinking any of those bugs will actually get fixed before next December's emergency hotfix. At least he didn't label it "various performance improvements" which we all know means "I broke something but can't figure out what."

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.

The horror movie villain meets his match in a programmer who's seen far worse than a single operator change. While normal people would panic at the "find the needle in a haystack" challenge, our developer just sits there with cold indifference. That ticking clock? Please. Programmers live with the constant existential dread of merge conflicts and production bugs that make Jigsaw's little game look like a kindergarten puzzle. The villain's frustration in the last panel is priceless—turns out psychological torture doesn't work on someone who regularly stares into the void of legacy code without documentation.