What Are Tech Guys Gonna Do?

When you git commit and git push , your code gracefully soars into the repository like a well-engineered aircraft. But those unsaved files in VS Code? They're like desperate passengers on a staircase to nowhere—no safety net, just one power outage away from oblivion. The number of times I've lost hours of work because I was "just testing something real quick" before saving... Let's just say I've developed a nervous twitch that hits Ctrl+S every 12 seconds.

You spend three weeks crafting your Python masterpiece, push it to GitHub, and within minutes some random dev comments "where's the executable?" These monkeys don't understand that Python IS interpreted. They're probably the same people who ask for the manager's phone number at a self-checkout. Next they'll want you to compile HTML too.

The twisted chimney labeled "your code" next to the perfectly straight one labeled "code on github" is the most accurate representation of coding reality I've ever seen. You spend hours wrestling with that monstrosity of nested if-statements and undocumented hacks, but the moment you push to a public repo, suddenly it's all clean architecture and design patterns. That twisted brick column is basically every production codebase I've ever inherited – somehow functional despite defying all laws of software engineering and basic physics. The real miracle is that both chimneys still manage to do their one job: let the smoke out when things are on fire.

The eternal struggle of picking up where you left off! The proper way? Detailed commit messages. The realistic way? Random notes. The galaxy brain way? Frantically mashing Ctrl+Z until you recognize something, followed by the inevitable panic of realizing you went too far and desperately hitting Ctrl+Shift+Z to recover. Nothing says "professional software engineer" quite like time-traveling through your code history via undo/redo shortcuts while muttering obscenities under your breath.

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.

The secret sauce of looking like you know what you're doing in tech isn't the code—it's the performance art. Turn a monitor vertical, squint thoughtfully at some blue-themed IDE while occasionally muttering "scope issue" or "need to commit these changes," and suddenly you're the office wizard. The best part? The more confused you actually are, the more convincingly profound you appear. Seven years as a lead developer and I still do this during standup when I haven't made any progress since yesterday.