She Could Commit 🤧💫!

Ah yes, the classic "fix" that fixes nothing. Committing your .env file to Git is like putting your house keys under the welcome mat and posting the address on Twitter. Sure, your code errors are gone... along with your database credentials, API keys, and whatever shred of respect your senior dev had for you. But hey, ship it.

The perfect illustration of code documentation in the wild! That empty diagram labeled "How programmers comment their code" is painfully accurate. We all start our projects with grand intentions of detailed comments, then reality hits and suddenly it's just blank spaces and cryptic symbols. The most documented part of any codebase is usually that one function written at 3 AM that no one remembers writing. Future you will definitely understand what that single-letter variable does six months from now, right? Trust me, even senior devs with 15 years of experience are looking at this and nervously laughing while avoiding eye contact with their Git history.

Oh the sweet innocent joy of thinking your code is ready for production! First panel: you're all confident, "This ticket is done, git push" - what could possibly go wrong? Second panel: QA has entered the chat and suddenly your masterpiece isn't looking so masterful. But the REAL horror story? That third panel when DevOps slides into your DMs like the final boss of a roguelike game you weren't prepared to play. The three stages of developer grief: confidence, concern, and existential dread. Ship it anyway!

Junior devs with unrestricted server access and zero version control knowledge are basically walking disasters with commit privileges. It's like handing a toddler a flamethrower and saying "try not to burn down the data center!" Their confidence is inversely proportional to their Git knowledge, making them the most dangerous entities in the tech ecosystem. One wrong move and suddenly production is running on a single file called "final_version_ACTUALLY_FINAL_v2_USE_THIS_ONE.js"

That feeling when your pull request finally gets approved after 47 code reviews, 18 requested changes, and 3 weeks of waiting... You're not just a developer anymore—you're royalty . Sitting on that throne of merged code, looking slightly uncomfortable because deep down you know your hastily added console.log() statements are still in there. The kingdom is yours until QA finds that edge case you totally forgot to test.

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. 🙄