Friendly Fire

Regular people worry about ignoring texts and relationships. Developers just want to know which files to add to .gitignore so their repo doesn't get cluttered with garbage. The sweet relief on that dev's face when he discovers he can ignore node_modules instead of pushing 500MB of dependencies to GitHub. Pure bliss. Meanwhile, his relationship status remains "it's complicated with package-lock.json."

The eternal CI/CD death spiral in its natural habitat! What we're witnessing is the beautiful disaster of a developer's 48-hour wrestling match with GitHub Actions. Starting with existential dread ("god has abandoned us"), progressing through false hope ("fixed CICD finally"), then the desperate environment variable tweaking, config file adjustments, and finally the primal scream of "pls fix workflow :))))" – which is developer code for "I'm one failed build away from a career change." The commit messages tell the whole tragic story: ten commits over two days just to get a workflow running. The real kicker? That "fixed CICD finally it was literally 2 lines smh" – the universal experience of spending 8 hours debugging only to find you forgot a semicolon.

That moment when you realize his "private" repos are just abandoned side projects and half-baked ideas with commit messages like "fix stuff" and "it works now???" Showing someone your private GitHub repos is the developer equivalent of letting them see your search history—equal parts terrifying and disappointing. Those repos are where good ideas go to die and where code standards don't apply. It's not scandalous, just sad.

The SHEER AUDACITY of those forkers! You spend HOURS tracking down a hideous bug in a repository, dragging your soul through the mud of someone else's code, only to discover that FIFTY-SEVEN people forked the project and NOT A SINGLE ONE bothered to fix it! They just... synchronized with the original like mindless drones! What's the point of open source if everyone's just going to copy-paste the same broken garbage?! The collective disappointment is CRUSHING. It's like opening the fridge fifty times hoping food will magically appear, but it's STILL EMPTY EVERY TIME! 😭

The Terminator's code review process is brutally efficient. Junior dev thinks creating a PR means they're done, but they've forgotten the most important part—getting their Tech Lead's approval. And just like the Terminator's cold delivery of bad news, there's no sugar-coating it when your TL has abandoned the project, gone on vacation, or worse... left for another company. Now your code is stuck in PR purgatory, neither alive nor dead, just waiting... forever.

The ultimate trust exercise isn't falling backward into someone's arms—it's watching a coworker create an alias that maps git to rm -rf / . For the uninitiated, this command essentially tells your computer "please delete everything, and don't ask questions." The growing horror on the guy's face perfectly captures that moment when you realize your entire filesystem is one accidental Git command away from digital oblivion. This isn't just shooting yourself in the foot—it's nuking the entire continent you're standing on and calling it a "productivity hack."