The source of programmer pain: a bug

//I am a front-end developer, but I think this story will resonate with any developer

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Someone reports a bug to you. "The light in the conference room on the 26th floor is on. It needs to be turned off." The bug note says "You should be able to fix this in 5 minutes, just flip a switch." You go to the conference room on the 26th floor. The light is on, but there is no light switch in the room.

So, you’re ready to install one. But the designer says it will ruin the aesthetic of the room. Plus, the walls are concrete. You’ll need the right tools to install the switch. But no one will approve the purchase of those tools. Without the right tools, installing the switch will take two days. They want you to turn the lights off now because they’re afraid the CEO might decide to go to the 26th floor on a whim and walk by the conference room and ask why the lights are on.

Now you keep getting emails asking why the lights are still on in the conference room. Now you have to send out a group email explaining the situation, and several people start a panicked email chain.

You know that if you expect a problem to be solved by email discussion (without actually doing anything), the problem will never be fixed. In the bug system, this bug is yours, and its deadline is today. If the problem is not solved, you will be in trouble. So, you find your way into the ceiling of the corridor on the 26th floor, find the wires for the conference room lights, and cut them off. Problem solved.

To calm the panic in the email chain, you explain (again) how you resolved the problem.

The mailbox goes quiet for a while. When it starts ringing again, everyone is worried that now the lights in the conference room can't be turned on and off. What if the CEO wants to have a meeting there? So they ask you to "pull the light wires down to the basement." When someone needs to turn the lights on or off, they notify you to go to the basement and connect or disconnect the wires.

You protest this ridiculous solution. Your boss says, “Yes, I know it’s not ideal. But it’s the only solution right now.”

At this point, you have a choice. You can do what they ask, or you can quit in protest and look for another job. But you know that once you start your new job, they will probably ask you to do something just as idiotic, if not more idiotic.

You run the wires from the 26th floor down to the basement. When you get down there, you see dozens of wires already hanging from the walls. You know you're not alone, and you know where this idiotic idea came from. You adjust the wires, label them as best you can, and silently apologize to the next guy who might be able to handle it.

Finally, you return to your desk and receive a new report. QA has reopened the bug. The bug description says "The room is still lit."

You return to the conference room on the 26th floor. The lights are off. You return to your desk and close the bug, noting that you have personally checked it.

QA reopens the bug again. "The room is still lit," the bug description insists. After confirming with your own eyes that the lightbulb is off, you report the situation to your supervisor. He suggests that you go to the basement to check the wires. You protest that you were staring at the light and it was off. "I know, but go check it. This way you can show QA that you confirmed all the processes."

You sigh and head down to the basement. Sure enough, the wires are not connected, and the cut ends are wrapped tightly. They can't possibly conduct electricity in any way you can understand.

You report back to QA, you check the wires, they're not connected, you're looking at the light bulb, it's off.

“I didn’t mean the light bulb,” QA said. “The bug describes the light in the room. The room is still not dark enough. You should draw the blinds.”
You responded that the blinds were not your responsibility and that the bug described the lights.

QA doesn't believe you and sends out a group email asking if the bug involves the shutters being pulled down.

You waited for a while, and the mailbox rang again.

"Theoretically," they asked, "would people in the 26th floor conference room be able to raise or lower the blinds if the light was too bright or too dim?"

Yes, they can, you reply. "Can any normal person do it? They won't need you to do it?" "Yes, any normal person. No, they won't need you. Anyone can do it. "Great. Well, that's all for the lighting issue for now. I'll arrange a meeting on what to do with the blinds."

The bug is closed. Now the CEO, perhaps sensing something from all the talk about the 26th floor conference room, wants to have the meeting there. You get a few panicked emails from people wanting the lights on.

You go down to the basement, hook up the wires, and return to your desk. Your inbox has 32 new messages. "Something went wrong - the lights are still off!" "There's a problem - there are no lights!" "Did you get our email? And so on and so forth.

Email 32 said: "It's ok - the light is on."

This process (referring to the 32 emails) happens more or less repeatedly when the light is turned on and off.

If there's any good news, it's that after the meeting, everyone forgets there was even a conference room on the 26th floor and you don't have to do anything with it.