Executive Order

The emotional journey of a developer in four stages of despair: 1. Coding: "Yeah, I got this!" - Blissfully ignorant, thinking your code will work on the first try. 2. Debugging: "Wait, why is this happening?" - The slow realization that your beautiful code is actually a dumpster fire with a syntax error cherry on top. 3. Version Control: "WHO COMMITTED THIS MONSTROSITY?" - That moment you git blame only to discover it was you, three months ago. 4. DevOps: "I've seen things you people wouldn't believe..." - The thousand-yard stare of someone who's had to fix a production server at 2 AM while the CEO watches their Slack status.

A dollar bill with "IN GOD WE TRUST" modified to read "IN GIT WE TRUST." Because let's face it, version control is the only thing standing between us and complete chaos. Your code might be worthless, but at least Git remembers what it looked like when it actually worked three commits ago. The true religion of developers isn't coffee or Stack Overflow—it's the ability to blame someone else via git blame.

Ah, the classic GitHub existential crisis! Someone created a repo with the self-aware name "This project has no meaningful contribution to society" and then someone else opened an issue with the most dramatic comment possible: "We are in dire and immediate need of innovation." It's like showing up to a kid's lemonade stand and demanding they solve the global water crisis. The best part? The issue got 19 reactions and was promptly closed. Nothing says "welcome to open source" like passionate debates about projects that openly admit their uselessness. This is basically every developer's side project that started with "I'll change the world" and ended with "please don't look at my code."

OH. MY. GOD. The AUDACITY of this person claiming "four years of Git experience" when their entire workflow is clicking buttons in an IDE! 💀 The tragic comedy unfolds in four acts: clicking the branch button, making a change with the most heartfelt commit message ever ("fix this please! Thank you, I love you :)"), typing "fixed" with the eloquence of Shakespeare, and then just... clicking "Commit." THAT'S IT. THAT'S THEIR ENTIRE "GIT EXPERIENCE." Meanwhile, terminal warriors are over here rebasing interactive branches, cherry-picking commits, force-pushing with lease, and writing commit messages that would make your English professor weep tears of joy. But sure, Jan, you're a "Git expert" because you can click a button. I CANNOT EVEN. 🙄

When your branch is stable enough for production but senior devs won't give you merge permissions. Welcome to git politics, where your code's quality matters less than your job title. The irony of being told to fix merge conflicts when you're literally not allowed to merge. That commit hash at the bottom is probably longer than your career at this company.

The eternal dance of code reviews, beautifully captured in its natural habitat. Reviewer drops a last-minute bombshell requirement that wasn't in any spec. Developer responds with the most honest code documentation ever written—and somehow still gets those sweet, sweet approvals. The best part? It got merged anyway! Nothing says "professional software development" quite like telling your reviewer where to shove their Assembly support and then pushing to master anyway. The 8 likes are from other developers who've been there but never had the courage.