Programming insights to Storytelling, it's all here.
There has always been a disconnect between the hiring process and finding the best engineers. But when we somehow find them, the career ladder ensures that they don't remain in that position of strength. An incompetent company might create the conditions for engineers to leave for better jobs. A generous company will apply the Peter Principle and promote engineers to their level of incompetence. Either way, the best engineers never remain in that position of strength.
A few years back, I had a ritual. I'd walk to the nearest Starbucks, get a coffee, and bury myself in work. I came so often that I knew all the baristas and their schedules. I also started noticing the music. There were songs I loved but never managed to catch the name of, always playing at the most inconvenient times for me to Shazam them. It felt random, but I began to wonder: Was this playlist really on shuffle? Or was there a method to the music?
On my first day at a furniture store, my boss pointed to a warehouse full of boxes and said, "Unpack that one and build it." Simple enough. I found a large, heavy box, sliced it open, and laid out an array of wooden slats, metal screws, and chains. It was a love seat swing. Clearly a two or three person job. But I didn't know that. If my boss asked me to build it, I figured, it must be possible.
The moment I learned how to program, I wanted to experiment with my new super powers. Building a BMI calculator in the command line wouldn't cut it. I didn't want to read another book, or follow any other tutorial. What I wanted was to experience chaos. Controlled, beautiful, instructive chaos that comes from building something real and watching it spectacularly fail.
On the first day on the job, the manager introduced me to the team, made a couple of jokes, then threatened to fire someone. At first, I thought it was just his sense of humor, that it was something I would understand once I worked long enough on the team. But no one else laughed. The air in the meeting room became stiff as he rambled about issues we had. The next Monday morning, he did it again. Now I was confused. Was I being hazed? No. Because he did it again the following Monday. He was an asshole.
Whenever a major platform announces changes, the internet's response is predictable: "Let's just build our own." I remember the uproar when Facebook introduced Timeline. Users threatened boycotts and vowed to create alternatives. The same pattern emerged with Stack Overflow. There were countless weekend-clone attempts that promised to be "better." Back then, building an alternative felt possible, even if most attempts fizzled out.
Google is creating a bigger and wider chasm between users and the source of data. Currently, my blog's traffic from Google searches has dropped significantly since AI Overviews launched. Where users once clicked through to read my articles, they now get their answers directly from Google's AI summary and never visit the source.
When I arrived in the US, one of the first things I looked for was an Internet Cafe. I wanted to chat with my family and friends, read about my neighborhood and school, and keep up with the world I'd left behind. But there was one thing that always bothered me in these public spaces: the counter in the bottom right corner of the screen, counting down to let me know how much time I had left.
I often destroyed our home computer when I was a kid. Armed with only 2GB of storage, I'd constantly hunt for files to delete to save space. But I learned the hard way that .ini files are actually important. After the computer failed to boot, I would have to reinstall Windows and Office 97. My father spent countless hours in the Office Suite and always reminded me to make sure I installed MS Excel. I didn't understand what it was for. The interface looked very confusing to me.
Here is a realization I made recently. I'm sitting in a room full of smart people. On one side are developers who understand the ins and outs of our microservice architecture. On the other are the front-end developers who can debug React in their sleep. In front of me is the product team that has memorized every possible user path that exists on our website. And then, there is me. The lead developer. I don't have the deepest expertise on any single technology.
