Maybe No

The classic developer-user relationship in its natural habitat. The programmer sits there in shock watching the user drink software straight from a cup like it's morning coffee. Meanwhile, the user has no idea why anything's wrong – they're just trying to use the product in ways no sane developer could have anticipated. After 15 years in this industry, I've learned that no matter how idiot-proof you make your interface, the universe just builds a better idiot. The real skill isn't writing code – it's predicting the creative ways users will break it.

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Content Perception of People who don't program: Lines of code Quality of code therefore, bool isEven(int n) bool even (n2 0); if (even true) return true; else return false; ! (n2); 7

Finally, a game that turns your imposter syndrome into a competitive sport! CodeGuessr shows you a random snippet of code (or in this case, an RSA key) and asks you to identify which famous GitHub repo it's from. Because nothing says "I'm a real developer" like recognizing React's codebase from a single function. The best part? That massive RSA key taking up 90% of the screen. As if anyone could look at that cryptographic vomit and think "Ah yes, clearly this is from TensorFlow." It's basically Wordle for people who think regular Wordle doesn't make them feel inadequate enough.

The Noah's Ark of code sources! At the top, we've got the majestic elephant (StackOverflow) carrying us through floods of bugs, the wise but dusty Documentation nobody reads, the giraffe (YouTube tutorials) stretching the truth but somehow working, GitHub code that's supposedly "production-ready," and the professor's theoretical perfection that falls apart in real life. Then there's your friend's code (which you secretly judge while copying), and your actual code (that embarrassing mess you hide from the world). But when the client shows up? Suddenly you're presenting that bizarre hybrid monstrosity—a chimera of StackOverflow answers, YouTube hacks, and panic-induced workarounds that somehow functions. And the client stares at your Frankenstein creation thinking "what the hell is this?" The true engineering skill isn't writing perfect code—it's making your abomination look intentional during the demo.

Remember when we used to write our own algorithms? Now we're just watching ChatGPT and Deepseek haul our careers up the mountain while we take a nap in the sleeping bag of obsolescence. And the worst part? We have the audacity to brag about our "productivity" like we actually did something impressive. "Look how far I climbed" – yeah buddy, you typed a prompt and took a coffee break while the AI did all the heavy lifting. The only muscle you've exercised is your index finger hitting Ctrl+V.