Old software engineering joke: “Write your code as if it’ll be read three months later by a homicidal psychotic who knows where you live.”
Spoiler: You know where you live, and will have to read your code three months later, when you’ve forgotten what much of it does.
“Who the hell was the fucktard who wrote this goddamn ugly shitty mess of shitty shit fuck!”
The entire cubicle labyrinth prairie dogged their heads above the felt-covered partitions to focus on the angst-ridden gentlemen currently throwing a tanty in his own little grey box.
Rapidly approaching, was the project supervisor. Tablet in hand, in an effort to quell the fury and the furor. To put out a few fires before they could start.
“What’s the problem, Kransky?”
“This ugly-ass kludge of uncommented shit is the matter. I’m going to track down that idiot and tear them a new one!”
DeVries tapped on her tablet. “According to doc-tracking… You were the idiot who wrote that code, Kransky.”
“I’m gonna invent time travel so I can kick myself up the ass,” Kransky vowed.
“Just remember to comment that -ah- goddamn ugly shitty mess of shitty shit fuck, next time?”
Kransky lowered himself back down behind his station. “Message received and understood.”
The rest of the coders vanished behind grey felt walls before DeVries could notice they were ever watching.
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