Now What: The GitHub Unicorn Of Despair

Asked to write meaningful commit messages, Bob goes from "small changes" to existential poetry. Classic overcompensation. The irony is that neither approach actually tells anyone what the code does. Meanwhile, the entire codebase burns silently in the background as the git log fills with philosophical musings instead of "fixed that null pointer exception on line 247."

The classic "I broke production and nobody noticed yet" panic. That moment when you push a change at 4:59 PM Friday, realize something's wrong, and frantically fix it before anyone discovers your crime. The server's down but your poker face is strong. "Just routine maintenance!" you lie through your teeth while sweating bullets and praying to the git gods that your rollback works. Meanwhile, your boss smiles, blissfully unaware that you nearly sent the company back to the stone age 3 minutes ago.

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 debugging paradox: you start with one bug to fix, end up with 74 others fixed instead. That original bug? Still lurking in your codebase like a smug little toad. The contemplative Kermit perfectly captures that moment when you realize your git commit message should just read "fixed everything except what I was supposed to fix." Classic programming career in a nutshell – solving problems you didn't know existed while the actual task remains gloriously unfixed.

The perfect alibi. Your manager wants you to work, but GitHub is down, which means you literally cannot push code, pull requests are impossible, and your entire CI/CD pipeline is about as useful as a screen door on a submarine. The boss storms in demanding productivity, and you just casually deflect with "Github down" like it's a get-out-of-jail-free card. Manager immediately backs off with "OH. CARRY ON." because even they know that without GitHub, the entire dev team is basically on paid vacation. It's the one excuse that requires zero explanation. No need to justify why you're not coding—everyone in tech knows that when GitHub goes down, the modern software development ecosystem grinds to a halt. You could be working on local branches, sure, but let's be real: nobody's doing that. We're all just refreshing the GitHub status page and browsing Reddit until the green checkmarks return.

Nothing screams "I'm a modern developer" quite like spending 8 hours implementing a Spotify API integration to show your current jam, but completely forgetting to include links to your actual code. Because clearly what hiring managers really care about is that you listen to Imagine Dragons while coding, not your ability to, you know, build things that work . The dark mode toggle is just the cherry on top of this portfolio sundae of misplaced priorities. The irony is that Tom and Spike are rushing toward something important while Jerry (the actual talent) trails behind - just like how those GitHub links and demo URLs are trailing behind your CSS animations and fancy scroll effects.