Gitlab Users Laughing Rn

The Git workflow massacre in three acts: First, we see a majestic Airbus A350 on the runway - that's git commit , your changes safely packaged and ready. Next, the plane gloriously takes flight - git push sending your code to the remote repository. But wait! The punchline: git add is just people climbing stairs to nowhere. Because if you push without adding files first, you're essentially sending an empty plane. Nothing gets deployed except your career prospects. It's the classic "why isn't my code in production?" moment right before the horrifying realization that you've been committing and pushing literal nothingness for the past hour.

Spotify Wrapped, but for developers' existential crises. The four horsemen of development reality: fixing bugs that spawn more bugs, spending 23.6 hours automating a 5.4-hour task, denying your code is the problem (narrator: it was), and watching six hours of tutorials only to find the solution in some random blog comment from 2011. The metrics don't lie, but they do hurt.

A street sign that says "NO REBASE" with a symbol prohibiting two cars from being on top of each other. The perfect metaphor for Git workflows where rebasing is forbidden and merging is the only acceptable way to integrate changes. That senior dev who set up the repo rules is probably the same person who put up this sign. Both will fight you to the death if you try to maintain a clean commit history.

The eternal debugging cycle in its purest form! The smug Senior Dev asks how the intern fixed a bug, expecting some technical wizardry. The innocent intern proudly admits they just "commented the code" - literally removing the problematic code from execution. Tom's horrified reaction is EXACTLY how senior devs feel when they realize the codebase is now littered with /* TODO: Fix this later */ comments hiding broken functionality instead of actual fixes. The dreaded "it works if you don't run it" approach to software engineering that haunts code reviews everywhere!

When your Git push gets rejected by some obscure rule you didn't know existed. The terminal's giving you ASCII art of a dragon guarding your repo like it's a medieval treasure vault! That "Herald push rule H149" might as well be written in ancient runes. Nothing says "your code isn't worthy" quite like being denied by a mythical creature made of forward slashes and zeroes. Somewhere, a senior dev is cackling while sipping coffee from their "Git Gud" mug.

Plot twist: the wanted poster is actually a mirror. The greatest bug creator in your codebase has been you all along. That moment when you spend hours debugging only to realize you're hunting yourself—the architect of your own digital misery. The duality of being both detective and criminal in your own murder mystery. Git blame: the ultimate self-own.