• accalia (disco)

    Early post....

    also WTF ending.... i get the feeling there was a Part #3 but FOX canceled it, just like they do with all the best TV shows..

  • PJH (disco)
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  • boomzilla (disco) in reply to accalia

    It was a shaggy dog sled.

  • flabdablet (disco) in reply to boomzilla

    I feel mi sled.

  • Buddy (disco)
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  • Teocali (disco)

    he next day, in he paper "retired software enginner find bludgeoned to death by a snow globe."

  • Eldelshell (disco)

    Man, imagine your face if you find something like that. And that was only the first document he opened. Imagine all the knowledge kept in that snow globe.

  • Shoreline (disco)
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  • CodingHorrorBot (disco) in reply to Shoreline
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  • eViLegion (disco)

    Fair enough, I actually liked this one.

  • Medinoc (disco)

    Personally I just write code so I can easily maintain it; and if it happens to make it harder for others it's not intentional, it's just a bonus.

  • Steve_The_Cynic (disco) in reply to Medinoc
    Personally I just write code so *I* can easily maintain it; and *if* it happens to make it harder for others it's not intentional, it's just a bonus.
    I'm English, but I live and work in France. Aside from one or two Belgians, all my colleagues are French, and it's definitely a French-speaking office. Despite that, for no adequately explained reason, all variable names, function names, comments, and so on in the code are to be written in English.

    Usually, I'll write them in such a way as to be reasonably readable for a second-language reader, but sometimes I'm in one of those moods, and when I am, new comments that I write will be in more, um, idiomatic English, perfectly legible for native English speakers (although it's advisable to be familiar with both British and American idioms and cultural references), but not automatically easy for the French to read. So far (more than five years!) nobody has called me out on it. Perhaps they don't dare ask, I don't know. Shrug.

  • JBert (disco) in reply to Medinoc
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  • Michael_Birchmeier (disco) in reply to JBert
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  • lystrodom (disco) in reply to Medinoc

    "Always code as if the guy who ends up maintaining your code will be a violent psychopath who knows where you live."

  • operagost (disco)

    What do you expect? The thing was 64MB. That's only enough room for three lines in a Word doc.

  • delfinom (disco)

    Please tell me there's a Pt3!!!

  • DocMonster (disco)

    Look, these highly embellished stories take away from the actual WTF. You guys did the same thing to my submission - the actual WTF was lost in trying to make it sound like a Lovecraft story. You can add flavor, but a lot of these stories lose the actual tale.

  • aliceif (disco) in reply to DocMonster

    Really? I think it's not too bad this time because the actual story is easily extractable:

    Rich had a five-alarm project. Six months ago, the legal department became aware that government regulations on labeling would change. That information slowly ground its way through the intestines of the company, until a pile of poorly documented, barely specified changes landed on Rich’s desk. If he didn’t implement those changes in the next 48 hours, a half-million units of commodity chemicals were about to pour out of a processing plant and be illegal to ship. The problem was confounded by the nature of the labeling system. It was tied into a home-grown, supply-chain management system. Theoretically, it was a one-stop shop for everything- formulations, MSDSes. In reality, it was a complicated thicket of unrelated applications which dragged data around between various silos, and usually crashed in the process. Rich had no idea what this change was going to involve. Only one person, the head of the Supply-Chain IT team, could point him in the right direction: Blaine. Blaine’s office was normally crammed with the awards, trophies, and various “atta-boy” certificates which honored him for a job well done around the company. Today, the walls were bare, and all of those meaningless honors were piled up in a box on his desk. Blaine ignored Rich, and finished packing his box.

    “Uh, Blaine… I have a few questions?”

    Blaine said nothing, took one final glance around the office, picked up his box, and walked towards the elevators. Rich trailed after him.

    “I just need a minute…”

    Blaine pushed the button on the elevator, and the doors pulled back. He strode in. Rich put a hand on the door, to hold it open, but Blaine’s cold glare caused him to flinch back. The door slid closed, and in the last instant before Blaine vanished forever, he whispered one final word: “Rosebud”.

    (Lots of stuff happens here!)

    Rich’s history lesson hadn’t netted him anything, so he swung back to Blaine’s office. It had already been tossed by his peers, but no one had found anything useful, documentation-wise. It was strange being in the office without Blaine or the stamp of his personality that he had left on the space. It felt almost dead- just old binders and tech manuals from a decade past. That, and Blaine’s USB hub, which he had forgotten. It was a cheap plastic snow-globe, with the water half evaporated out, likely a relic from some department “Secret Santa” exchange. Rich picked it up and gave it a shake anyway, which did little to motivate the white powder within the globe. That’s when he noticed “64MB” embossed on the side. It was a storage device? Rich ran down the stairs to his cube, snow-globe clutched in his hand. He slammed the cable into his computer, and watched as Windows detected a mass storage device, and then opened an explorer window. The drive’s label was “Rosebud”. Inside was a single folder, crammed with Word documents, Power Point slide decks, and archived emails. It was everything Blaine had even known about about anything in the company. With a trembling hand, Rich double clicked on the document called “LabellingSystemDocumentation.doc”. Word cranked, opened the document, which had three lines in it:

    Used by plants to print labels. I’ve built this one to be super hard to maintain, it’s so high priority that every time I touch it, I look like a goddamn hero.

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