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I used to do some freelance work for a nonprofit. I’d do some website stuff and gallery sitting.
My friend was the gallery director. When she left, I decided to stop freelancing there and I dropped off the keys with the new director. I told them they could contact me later if they have questions about some things I implemented on the website. The new director thinks I’m a random freelancer and starts to BADMOUTH MY FRIEND, the former director.
Over a year later, the gallery assistant emails me asking about SSL warnings and cc’s the new director. WTF.
1) Those warnings were happening long before I left and long before I even started. 2) I am not your website support. I only invited contact for things I worked on. 3) The assistant already contacted Squarespace and Go Daddy for help and they gave her instructions.
I told her I didn’t set up their website and it sounds like she has the resources to resolve this on her own and she should contact Squarespace and Go Daddy if she needs more help. After all, you pay those companies for their services support and my time isn’t free.
There once was a beautiful initiative to put ballistic missile launch codes into a small capsule and hide it near some person’s heart.
This person would give consent to become the president’s personal assistant and will be paid indefinitely just to be around president all the time.
This way, if the president wants to launch missiles, they first needs to kill one person with their own hands before killing millions.3
I deployed one of our staging websites to a free plan because the site is rarely used. Project Manager sends the stakeholders the new url. There will be a lot of 🤦♀️🤦♂️🤦 all around. Some of it’s my fault. A lot of it is just WTF.
Stakeholder: We still need the staging site because we don’t want to test in the live site…
PM: Okay. We didn’t say we were deleting the site. We are just moving it to a new and better hosting platform, so we’re letting you know the url has changed.
Stakeholder: This url is for the front facing page. How do I access the backend? [they mean the admin interface]
Me: The only thing that’s changed is the url for the staging website. So domain-A/account is now domain-B/account.
I thought that was a pretty straightforward way of explaining things, that even a non technical person would get it. They took the /account example as the literal login url.
Stakeholder: I forgot the password for our admin login and I submitted a password reset, but I realize I don’t know if I have access to the admin email. Or if it’s even a real email account.
I look back at the email chain and I realize that I gave the PM the wrong url.
Also, WTF x 2. How did this stakeholder not realize they were looking at the wrong website?? There are definitely noticeable style and content differences. And why would you have an admin login that uses a fake email??
Me: My apologies. I sent over the incorrect url. My instructions are mostly the same. All that’s changed is the domain.
Stakeholder’s assistant: [DMs me] How do we access the backend?
WTF…are they seriously playing this game and demanding I type out the url for them?! 🤬 I’m not playing this game and I just copy and paste the example that I already sent over.
They figure it out eventually. Apparently, they never used /account to login before They used /admin/index… but that would still bring them to /account, but with ?redirect=/admin/index appended to the url if they weren’t logged in. Again, WTF.
I know I made mistakes in this whole thing, but damn. I can’t even. I’m pretty sure this whole incident is fueling my boss’s push to stop supporting this particular website anymore so I can focus on sites that actually bring in revenue…and have stakeholders that aren’t looney and condescending like this.4
2 Items in Rant: Technical Lead -> Development Manager, and Boss giving me his administrative work.
1. For the last few years I've had the role of a Development Manager. I've always been very hands on and even when going from a Technical Lead to a DM I was pretty active in the code: not coding every single day but still got into it, shifted towards design and architecture type things, etc. For the most part I've enjoyed it, but with each passing year (4 years now) I feel like my boss is pusing me further and further away from being Technical. Like now he's got me making some spreadsheet because he's too lazy to do it himself.
2. Few weeks ago it was setting up meetings for him, basically turning me more and more into his glorified administrative assistant. I know Senior Leadership is so goddamn busy they can't setup their own meetings, but come on. Half the time he's ranting to me about someone and telling me to tell this person this or that. I got a suggestion: you could try telling them yourself?
I feel like if I stay at this company much longer I'm going to lose all of my technical skills and continue to get taken advantage of by my boss and the rest of the senior leadership team who couldn't talk technical and code talk if it bit them in the ass.1
Remember, you're not just the dev. You're the asset designer, UI designer, UX designer, translater, network assistant, general computer help, and more! What wonders you can work!
Actually, I'm wondering what management actually does other than "making decisions", whatever those could possibly be. We seem to make all the others. F*&#%*!
That rabbit in my grandpa's left table drawer, in the home I grew at. I wanted to finally catch it, and kill it. I was bad with animals all along, especially this one. My grandpa died the year before I was born, and my grandma said we would've got along really well. So much to talk about, a scientist to an engineer. So, I travelled back, but my home somehow turned from a city stone-walled house into a half-soaked, decaying wooden one. I caught that rabbit though, but while I was holding it at its neck and twisting it, it somehow disappeared, distributed evenly as if I were twisting a crayon. I was trying to find it, but in that left drawer, among century-old pencils and that red liquid thermometer I played with as a kid, only a faded out, dusty duckling resided. I picked it up, and unlike the rabbit, it was paper, no, cigarette paper thin. It wasn't hostile. It wasn't trying to run away. It just turned from yellow to grey, feathers leaving my fingers covered in fine dust. I realized it will never die, dwelling and decaying there forever, happy.
I did my calculations, and I knew for a fact when and where the rabbit should've appeared. It was the middle drawer, not the left one. I opened it and looked in anticipation how something chewed through the bottom. I caught it, but it was no rabbit, it was an alive, rubber rat. The rubber was white turned grey, old, aged, dusty, probably Soviet. I poked the rat's eye with a pen rod, but the rat's body inflated a bit, leaving it invincible. It was mocking me.
Of the same white rubber, a ball appeared. I knew for a fact it was alive too, I felt the bones inside holding it. I found its lips, and was prying it open. The massive, dry mouth emerged, with a full set of human teeth, albeit wider and nastier ones. Huge eyes looked at me. It was alive, it was intelligent. It was my grandpa's personal financial assistant all along. It told me to leave the rat and the rabbit alone. He told me not to worry about the ducking, as it was in safe hands.
It made friends with my brother during the "blue age", when he was wearing thin, worn out rugs instead of clothes, tiny faded blue flowers on them, screaming and annoying my grandma he lived with in that room, not a single person other than the two in sight. The house was slowly submerging. The water was rising.2