- It works: it does what at least one audience really wants done
- It exists: it was completed and deployed
- It lives: it can be updated or ported
- It pays: if it is for-profit, it does not lose money
In the dim and distant past, when I was in college, studying CS meant actually studying computer science. We used various computer programming languages, but we were expected to master the concepts and techniques, not merely the semantics of a given language or development environment. We were supposed to be flexible about "implementation details." We even called them "details" just to emphasize their relative importance.
As someone who has tested the programmer job waters regularly for over three decades now, I can tell you that being a software expert who is not inflexibly married to a particular method or environment is an out-of-date notion: it has been years since anyone wanted to know what I can do or what I have done. Now it is all about the "how". Now everyone wants to know if I am "a great fit" which seems to mean "exactly what we have already": a Java-head, a Rails guy, a Javascript geek, a C# maven, etc.
If you have issues that you have been unable to resolve, you don't need "a great fit" and you don't need more of the same: you need something different. You need to consider something new: new talents, new tools, new tenets. But even when a group has hit the wall and is stuck, I see fear of the new and desperate clinging to the old: our installed base! Our existing code! Think of the code!
When did this "there is only one way to do it!" philosophy become not just acceptable, but the norm? I paddle my canoe on the water and I drive my car on the highway and I do not view that as unnecessary overhead. Yes, I have to be familiar with two different kinds of vehicle, ostensibly for the same purpose (moving me around). But that is not a problem which needs fixing: I won't be putting wheels on my canoe any time soon.
I shake my head in wonderment at this backsliding, this devolving professionalism, this grunt-ification of our industry. Why are we headed toward being MacDonald's when we started out as fine dining? Can you imagine the technical debt that this mindlessness is piling up all around the world?
(Technical debt is my current favourite buzzword. I like the Wikipedia definition:
Technical debt (also known as design debt or code debt) is a recent metaphor referring to the eventual consequences of any system design, software architecture or software development within a codebase.
I used to wonder how the Johnny One Note model worked: don't you eventually have to pay the Piper? Don't you hit a hard limit on whatever single tool you have blessed? Don't you fail to meet your goals so obviously that your failure cannot be explained away with the torrent of jargon-filled gibberish that has become the hallmark of programmers' communications?
But now I have seen examples of how this obvious failure is avoided: business and development cycles have become so rapid that we can use every failure as a reason to move to the next development model or technology: we can leave the technical debt behind by walking out of our old house, defaulting on our mortgage, and buying a new house. Better yet, we can hope that we are at another company entirely when the technical debt comes due.
Welcome to MacProgrammer's! May I take your order? Just as long whatever you order is on our very limited menu.
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