What an RSS feed is for
Somebody who has been building websites for two years asked me what the orange icon in the footer did, and I gave an answer that was mostly about 2007, which was no use to them at all.
30 posts filed under Culture, newest first.
Somebody who has been building websites for two years asked me what the orange icon in the footer did, and I gave an answer that was mostly about 2007, which was no use to them at all.
I found a writer I now read constantly because of a link at the bottom of somebody else's post, and it took me a day to work out why that felt unusual, which is that almost nothing reaches me that way any more.
The alignment people and the stay-ahead-of-China people are both right. Inconvenient. I still land on keeping our foot down while building the safeguards into the same motion.
I read a post I wrote in 2015 and found the person who wrote it insufferable. That turns out to be the useful part of keeping an archive for 11 years.
Two questions went into the same channel within about ten minutes of each other. One got a useful answer in four minutes. The other is still sitting there, and the difference wasn't the difficulty.
Everybody wants to build the new thing, but the web runs on old software that somebody unglamorous is keeping alive, usually for free and usually without being thanked.
Somebody asked how much technical debt we had, wanting a number. Nobody could give one, and not because we hadn't measured. The question doesn't mean anything; the metaphor makes it sound like it does.
The pattern has a name and a literature, and the literature is about banks with 40 teams, and I have a 40-page site for a firm of surveyors, and the mechanics scale down further than anybody writes about.
This is the third proposal to rewrite the same system in five years, all three from competent people acting in good faith, and the interesting question isn't whether they're right, it's why the proposal keeps arriving.
Eighteen months ago it was six recruiter messages a week. This month I've had one, and two of the three people who left have been made redundant.
The place where this industry has conducted most of its conversation for about a decade came apart over six weeks, and everybody scattered, and the thing I miss most is not the site.
A project finished about 40% over and there was no change log at all, because in-house doesn't have one. That turned out to be the most useful thing I learned all year.
Somebody who had completed three courses, all the way through, all the exercises done, sat down in front of an empty folder and could not start, and was quietly convinced this meant they weren't cut out for it.
Three days on a retainer, removing things. The client asked what they'd got for it, reasonably and without any edge, and I did not have an answer ready.
I can still quote a review comment somebody left on my work in 2015, and I can also remember one I left last year that I'd like back, and neither of those is about whether the code was correct.
I added up last week's calendar and it came to 19 hours, and I'd estimate that 11 of those hours replaced conversations that used to take two minutes and happen next to somebody's desk.
Two weeks and three days of working from a table that is also where I eat, and the thing I keep circling back to is that this was always possible and we were always told it wasn't.
A change delivered all at once isn't braver than the same change delivered in slices, it just makes you unable to tell what you broke, and the web platform itself is the best argument for the slow way.
I wrote a post a few years ago about the order I read an unfamiliar project in, and I've since decided the order was never really the point, and that the procedure's actual job is to stop me opening files at random and hoping.
Three people asked me last month what I use for something, and I gave three different half-answers from memory, so I've finally written the page, and the writing of it was more useful than the page.
The monthly meetup I'd been going to since I started didn't happen in February, or in March, and nobody announced anything, and I think that's just how these end.
I spent 20 minutes on a variable name last week and felt bad about it for the rest of the afternoon, and I've since decided the 20 minutes was the only honest work I did that day.
Someone asks how long the checkout will take. What you believe is a lopsided curve with a long tail. What comes out is one number, and by Thursday it's a date in a plan.
Clients hand you a solution and call it a requirement, and most of the job is quietly working backwards to the problem underneath it without being a jerk about it.
A candidate apologized to me for their contribution graph before I'd asked about it, and I've been uncomfortable about that for about a month, mostly because I'd have done the same thing.
Not a good novel. I got more out of it than most of the good books I read this year, largely because of the one character everybody quotes the wrong lesson about.
A brief arrives as a numbered list of features, and every line on it is somebody's guess at a solution to a problem that isn't written down anywhere in the document.
Eighteen months on Slack. It fixed several real problems, and I still can't work out why my day feels more fragmented than it did when the tool was worse.
The brief said refresh the look and feel, and the client meant it sincerely, and the reason that sentence is expensive has nothing to do with the look and feel and everything to do with the four years of decisions sitting underneath it.
Chesterton's line about doing things badly is the most useful thing I know about actually finishing anything, and it goes well past side projects.