Programming insights to Storytelling, it's all here.
The MP3 format, once the gold standard for digital audio files, is now free. The licensing and patents on MP3 encoders have expired, meaning you can now include them in your applications without paying royalties. For software developers and audio enthusiasts, this might seem like a big deal. But, surprisingly, almost no one noticed. Why? Because the world of technology has changed so drastically that MP3's significance has faded into the background.
As a software developer, the best way to get a raise isn’t by waiting for your annual performance review. It’s by applying for a new job. This has been the industry standard for years. In many sectors, raises rarely keep up with the cost of living, and recent inflation has only made this gap more glaring. Today, this dynamic is no longer limited to the tech industry; in nearly every field, the easiest way to secure a pay bump is to leverage an external job offer. Consequently, job boards are no longer primarily used by the unemployed. They’re increasingly a tool for career advancement.
A long time ago, a colleague recounted how his latest interview with a candidate went. Something about the candidate’s work experience seemed off, so my colleague decided to test him with a seemingly simple question.
Internet speed keeps getting faster every year, and today’s mobile devices often outperform older desktops. But just a few years ago, catering to mobile users was a delicate art. If you wanted to offer a smooth experience, you had to minimize the number and size of JavaScript files. A large file could freeze or even crash a mobile device. Desktop users on older browsers like Internet Explorer faced similar challenges.
One day, I recommended a candidate for a position at work to my recruiter. Before I could even get back to my desk, I received a curt reply: "Sorry, this won't work. We aren't hiring people from USC anymore."
A company I worked for once spent a fortune installing a turnstile and key card system to secure the building. The idea was simple: track the entry and exit of every employee. The execution, however, was anything but simple.
At one company I worked at, we had a mysterious bug that customers suddenly started complaining about. Their accounts were being deactivated for no reason, despite them paying for their subscriptions. After digging into the issue, we confirmed the problem: paying customers were being incorrectly marked as inactive. It wasn’t a widespread issue—just enough to raise eyebrows—and it even slipped past all our tests.
When I left my previous job, I wanted to do things right. I documented everything about my work so thoroughly that I thought my replacement could step in without missing a beat. I wrote down every detail: the clients I worked with, the special cases I handled, and even the unconventional ways I generated reports. I wrapped it all up before handing in my two weeks' notice.
I was sad when I heard Paramount axed the Comedy Central website. Twenty-five years of content, gone. Why couldn’t they just let the site run indefinitely, even on autopilot? The reason: cost-cutting measures. Disney+ made a similar move when Willow flopped. Instead of letting the show quietly live on the platform, they erased it completely. Again, for cost-cutting measures.
Earlier in my career, every single person on my team had a personal website. At lunch, we’d talk about how we built them, diving into servers, Fail2Ban setups, zip bombs, and the weird little quirks we each added. It was fun, it was ours, and it felt like building a tiny home on the web.