The Average Git Rebase Experience

The ultimate recursive nightmare: adding .gitignore to your .gitignore file. It's like telling your version control "please ignore my instructions to ignore things." Then wondering why your repo is either tracking everything or nothing at all. The digital equivalent of putting a "Do Not Disturb" sign on your "Do Not Disturb" sign.

The silent killer of every developer's sanity: accidentally pushing your .env file to GitHub. That little tab showing the .env file about to be closed is giving me heart palpitations! One wrong commit and suddenly your API keys, database credentials, and that secret message to your future self are available for the whole internet to see. Nothing says "I'm having a great day" like realizing your AWS keys are public and there's already a $10,000 bill for crypto mining in Siberia.

The primal scream of every developer who's ever written "working" code that's held together with duct tape and wishful thinking. That moment when a coworker clones your repo and starts "improving" your carefully crafted spaghetti code is pure terror. Sure, we all know our code is technically garbage—a beautiful dumpster fire of hacks and workarounds—but it's our garbage, dammit! Nothing triggers the territorial developer instinct faster than someone messing with that fragile house of cards you somehow got working at 3AM. Branch protection rules exist for a reason, people!

BEHOLD! The PINNACLE of technical documentation in all its glory! 🎨 Spent 72 hours coding a complex algorithm that could potentially save humanity, but the documentation? "I'm Tracy." THAT'S IT. THAT'S THE ENTIRE DOCUMENTATION. Future developers will have to perform a séance to understand this code because apparently naming a random person is all the context we need! Next time someone asks why the project is six months behind schedule, I'll just introduce myself and walk away. GENIUS!

That golden retriever isn't just staring into your soul—it's staring at your unfinished Git commits. The dog can literally smell your procrastination through the screen. Right now, you've got 47 Slack notifications, a deadline in 3 hours, and yet here you are, looking at memes about not working instead of actually working. The dog knows. The dog always knows. And that judgmental canine gaze will follow you back to your IDE where that one function has been half-implemented since Tuesday.

The "asking for a friend" of development. Nothing says "I've already done something catastrophic" like a junior dev casually inquiring about API key removal from git history. That look from the senior dev isn't suspicion—it's the realization that the weekend is now canceled and the entire team is about to learn what a force push really means. Somewhere in the background, the company's security team just felt a disturbance in the force.