A spacious, but windowless office, late afternoon. A young, attractive, yet completely competant-looking woman is sitting at a large desk working on her computer. New Trainee enters, Sandra makes a hasty yet deft movement with her mouse to hide the internet browser.
New Trainee: I need a short function for the install that finds the parent directory.
Sandra: Oh, actually, I have one. I wrote it a while back. I'll email it to you.
New Trainee exits. Ten minutes pass.
New Trainee: Hey, Sandra, that code you sent me doesn't work.
Sandra's eye twitches.
Sandra: It doesn't work? What does it do?
New Trainee: It gets the grandparent directory, the one above the one I want. I was going to modify it but I didn't understand the code.
Sandra's eye twitches again, more noticeably this time.
Sandra: Oh. I wrote that a while back, so I don't really remember it much. If it's getting the wrong directory, you can just modify it to get the child directory of the one it's getting now.
New Trainee: Also, it doesn't work if there's a backslash at the end.
Sandra: There's a function to remove the last backslash, just use that.
New Trainee: Oh yeah, I've used that before. Well, it still doesn't get, I mean it doesn't work anyway.
Sandra: Okay, then modify the code so that it does.
New Trainee: Oh, okay. (Exits.)
Sandra sighs heavily. She is obviously facing the internal struggle of going into New Trainee's office and demanding to see hard evidence that her beautiful code does not work versus acting like a regular human being and minding her own business. Her eye begins to twitch every few seconds, she taps her fingers on the keyboard without typing anything, and her jaw is set.
Sandra(chanting softly to herself): Let it go. Let it go. Let it go.
Sandra sighs in resignation and writes frustrated blog entry, knowing that readers will have no choice but to assume that her code is always flawless and that New Trainee is just an idiot. She does not feel better.
New Trainee: I need a short function for the install that finds the parent directory.
Sandra: Oh, actually, I have one. I wrote it a while back. I'll email it to you.
New Trainee exits. Ten minutes pass.
New Trainee: Hey, Sandra, that code you sent me doesn't work.
Sandra's eye twitches.
Sandra: It doesn't work? What does it do?
New Trainee: It gets the grandparent directory, the one above the one I want. I was going to modify it but I didn't understand the code.
Sandra's eye twitches again, more noticeably this time.
Sandra: Oh. I wrote that a while back, so I don't really remember it much. If it's getting the wrong directory, you can just modify it to get the child directory of the one it's getting now.
New Trainee: Also, it doesn't work if there's a backslash at the end.
Sandra: There's a function to remove the last backslash, just use that.
New Trainee: Oh yeah, I've used that before. Well, it still doesn't get, I mean it doesn't work anyway.
Sandra: Okay, then modify the code so that it does.
New Trainee: Oh, okay. (Exits.)
Sandra sighs heavily. She is obviously facing the internal struggle of going into New Trainee's office and demanding to see hard evidence that her beautiful code does not work versus acting like a regular human being and minding her own business. Her eye begins to twitch every few seconds, she taps her fingers on the keyboard without typing anything, and her jaw is set.
Sandra(chanting softly to herself): Let it go. Let it go. Let it go.
Sandra sighs in resignation and writes frustrated blog entry, knowing that readers will have no choice but to assume that her code is always flawless and that New Trainee is just an idiot. She does not feel better.
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