In Case Of Fire: Git Commit, Git Push, Git Out

Writing incomprehensible code isn't a bug—it's a feature. That senior dev who writes cryptic one-liners with zero comments? They're not sloppy; they're building their legend. Nothing says job security like being the only one who can decipher your own arcane syntax. Sure, your code review might be a disaster, but at least they'll remember your name when the production server catches fire at 3 AM and you're the only one who can fix it. Infamous is still famous in git blame.

The stick figure is all of us who've learned this lesson the hard way. Push to production on Friday, and suddenly your weekend becomes an unpaid extension of your work week. Nothing says "I hate my personal life" quite like deploying that "tiny fix" at 4:55 PM on Friday, then spending Saturday debugging while your friends are having fun without you. The universal developer commandment: thou shalt not tempt the deployment gods when happy hour beckons.

When your team says "don't force push to main" but you're feeling extra swole today. This dev is literally putting his physical strength behind his Git commands - because sometimes your code changes need the backing of 250lbs of leg press force to override those pesky branch protections. The perfect fusion of gym gains and repository dominance. Your merge conflicts don't stand a chance against those quads!

The eternal battlefield of code reviews captured in one perfect image. Code reviewers (the kids) are desperately trying to protect themselves from the tiger (that obvious bug that will definitely crash production), while completely ignoring the rabbit (a harmless typo in a comment). Classic case of missing the forest for the trees—or in this case, missing the tiger for the bunny. The same reviewers who'll write a 12-paragraph essay about your variable naming conventions will somehow miss the null pointer exception that's about to nuke your entire AWS instance.

The eternal struggle of game developers everywhere: trying to spot the difference between CRLF and LF line endings while Perforce gleefully ignores them as "identical" during merges. Nothing like spending 3 hours debugging why your build is failing only to discover it's because Windows and Unix decided to have a philosophical debate about how lines should end. And yet somehow, this prehistoric version control system that can't tell the difference between line endings is still the industry standard. Legacy code and "but we've always done it this way" strikes again!

Ah, the classic "too many cooks" scenario but with programmers! The left shows a beautifully simple, straight railway track representing your solo coding journey—clean, predictable, and headed in one clear direction. Then management decides that "adding more programmers will speed things up," and suddenly your elegant project transforms into that chaotic railway junction on the right—a tangled mess of conflicting ideas, merge conflicts, and "but on MY machine it works perfectly." It's the software development equivalent of trying to make a baby in one month by getting nine women pregnant. Some problems just don't scale linearly with headcount, and codebases are notoriously allergic to sudden influxes of new contributors who each bring their own "brilliant" ideas to the table.