Picture this: You're about to showcase your brilliant quotation system to a potential client. The tests are ready, the AI fine-tuning is sharp, and your confidence is sky-high. Then reality hits—literally everything that can go wrong does, including discovering you've been drinking from an empty glass the entire time. Welcome to my Tuesday.
Act I: The Setup (Where Everything Is Fine™)
The client joins the call. I'm ready. I've got this. I open the application with the swagger of someone who's done this a hundred times.
Except... wait.
Why does this look different?
Oh. Oh no.
I'm on the old version. Like, embarrassingly old. The kind of old where features the client specifically asked about don't even exist yet.
Act II: The Panic Update (AKA The Longest 3 Minutes of My Life)
"Sorry, just give me one second—I need to update a library real quick!"
One second is developer speak for "I have no idea how long this will take but let's pretend it's fine."
I hit update. The terminal starts churning. The client and I are now both staring at dependency resolution messages like it's the most fascinating content on the internet.
Installing... 47 packages remaining...
I reach for my glass of water. Take a confident sip. Ah, hydration. Professionalism. Calm.
Installing... 32 packages remaining...
Another sip. We're doing great. Everything is fine.
Installing... 18 packages remaining...
The client makes small talk. I nod enthusiastically while internally screaming.
Another sip.
Installing... 5 packages remaining...
One more sip for good luck.
Act III: The Comeback (I've Got This)
Server starts. Application loads. We're BACK, baby.
Another sip. Victory water.
"Okay, so let me show you how we generate tests using our smart LLM fine-tuning and multiple optimization techniques..."
I'm in the zone now. Explaining the architecture. Showing the workflow. The client is nodding. They're impressed. I'm impressed with myself.
Another sip. Confidence water.
"And now, watch this—we'll run the test suite. These are all going to pass because our system is incredibly robust..."
I hit enter with the confidence of a person who has never been wrong about anything, ever.
The tests start running.
Green check marks appear. One after another. Beautiful.
My confidence swells. Another sip from my glass.
More green checks.
I'm already mentally drafting the "We closed the deal!" Slack message.
Another sip. Smooth.
And then—
Act IV: The Fall (Error: Hubris Detected)
FAILED: Expected 150, got NaN
My heart stops.
The terminal is RED. Angry red. Mocking red.
My face is also red. Matching red. Synchronized red. We're a team now, the terminal and I, united in our redness.
I can feel the client's confusion through the screen.
I take a desperate sip. Maybe if I drink enough, I'll wake up from this nightmare.
"Uh... interesting! Let me just check something here..."
[Internal monologue: WHAT IS HAPPENING. THIS WORKED YESTERDAY. THIS WORKED AN HOUR AGO. WHY DO I DO THIS FOR A LIVING.]
I pull up the code. I check the test. I scan the error trace like I'm defusing a bomb.
And there it is.
The cleanup method. The metadata reset. The database save.
total = old_value + new_value
# where old_value = nil and new_value = nil
Oh.
OH.
Turns out nil + nil doesn't equal 0 in the real world. It equals undefined method '+' for nil (NoMethodError). It equals shame. It equals "why didn't I test this specific edge case."
Act V: The Redemption (Ruby to the Rescue)
But here's where Ruby—beautiful, forgiving Ruby—saves my entire existence.
total = old_value.to_i + new_value.to_i
# nil.to_i = 0
# Crisis averted
One line. That's all it took.
I make the change. I run the tests again.
Another sip. Prayer water.
Green. All green.
Another sip. Celebration water.
I look at the client. "And THAT is how we handle edge cases in real-time!"
[Playing it off like this was planned. Like I'm a debugging GENIUS.]
The client... actually looks impressed? "I really appreciate seeing how you troubleshoot. That was actually really valuable."
I take another confident sip from my glass. Relief water.
Act VI: The Twist (M. Night Shyamalan Has Nothing on This)
Demo ends. Client is happy. They want to move forward. I close the laptop feeling like I just survived a final boss fight.
One final victorious sip.
I lean back in my chair.
I look at my glass.
My EMPTY glass.
The glass I've been "drinking" from FOR THE ENTIRE DEMO.
I've been stress-sipping air for 30 minutes. Every single sip. Every confident gulp. Every prayer. Every celebration.
All air.
Pure. Atmospheric. Nothing.
Lessons Learned (In No Particular Order)
Always check your version before a demo. Better yet, use the actual demo environment, not your local "it works on my machine" setup.
nil + nil = suffering. In Ruby, in life, in everything. Use
.to_i,.to_f,|| 0, or literally anything that prevents arithmetic nihilism.Bugs during demos are actually opportunities. Clients respect real problem-solving more than perfect scripts. (This is what I tell myself to sleep at night.)
Check if there's actually water in your glass. This feels like it should be obvious, but here we are.
Overconfidence is the real bug. The moment you think "this will definitely work" is the moment the universe starts writing your error message.
The Silver Lining
Despite everything—the version mismatch, the nil arithmetic nightmare, the phantom hydration—we got the client. They signed on. They specifically mentioned that seeing the live debugging process gave them confidence in our technical capability.
So maybe the real lesson is that perfection is overrated. Maybe what clients really want is someone who can handle chaos with grace (and an empty water glass).
Or maybe they just felt bad for me.
Either way, I'll take the win.
P.S. - I still haven't refilled that glass. I'm worried if I do, I'll break whatever cosmic luck got me through that demo.
P.P.S. - If you're reading this and you were that client: I promise I drink real water now. Usually.
Top comments (0)