Markdown, GitHub, Atom, Jekyll, rubber duck, refactoring… Those are just a few of the terms I had never heard before starting here at Corgibytes. Yes, I had heard of a rubber duck, but not being a rubber duck. In case anyone’s thinking “Oh, she’s one of those drips,” let me stop you right there. I’m a knowledge-thirsty geek.
In an era of omnipresent frameworks, libraries and tooling, it may be hard to decide what tool to use and when. I know from experience, that the first thing you do, once you decide to write a module or CLI tool, is set up an environment. Some people love it, some hate it. But no matter on which side you are, you’ll most likely end up spending way too much time doing it, polishing every aspect of the setup.
Do you ever refactor your test code? If not, I hope you consider making this part of your normal practice. Test code is still code and should adhere to the same high standards as the code that's running directly in production. As important as it is, refactoring your test code is actually a little risky. It's very likely that you could turn a perfectly valid test into one that always passes, regardless of whether or not the code that it covers is correct. Let's explore a technique for protecting against that possibility.
One of the comments I get frequently is how the culture of Corgibytes feels distinctive. Clients enjoy working with us, employees are happy and not stressed out, and the company just kind of purrs. This didn’t happen by accident. It’s the result of lots of intention and implementing specific strategies.
One of the many cool things that we do here at Corgibytes is yoga classes three times a week. The word “yoga” conjures up images of fit ladies on their mats in a classroom, and the teacher in the front doing crazy poses. You probably don’t imagine a group of people, each one sitting at his own desk, on different continents, connected online with the teacher and doing the crazy poses in their chairs. Well, that’s how our yoga classes are, and as unusual as this might sound, it is amazing. I love yoga classes!
My first job out of college took me 1,500 miles from where I grew up. After a year of working there, I spent most days working from home along with my other co-workers. The team commuted to a single point about once a week since we enjoyed hanging out with each other and it helped us catch up on what we were working on. Shortly after this, I had a desire to move back home to spend time with family, but wanted to keep working with a great team. That wasn’t a problem and this soon unlocked the awesomeness that was being remote.
Eight years ago, I went to my high school reunion. I had worked successfully in the field of sales and marketing since graduation. I had started my own consultancy when I was twenty-four which helped clients with sales and developing their “brand voice.” I was the human voice behind businesses large and small. At the time I loved my job and had no plans on leaving my industry. At the reunion, I looked around, and after the mandatory mingling that comes with being a social butterfly, I locked eyes with someone I recognized. He was leaning against the bar, drinking a soda, and looking utterly uncomfortable. Yep. That was none other than M. Scott Ford.
“How would you rate yourself as a programmer?” They always have to ask THAT question in job interviews. And I hate it. So much. Why do I hate it? Because I know they won’t like my answer. But what am I supposed to do, lie? Nope. I have to be honest. Which is why I take my time before responding. I take a deep breath, look deeply into the eyes of the interviewer, and, finally, I say: “Average.”
One of the great benefits of working for a small company like Corgibytes is the ability to adopt change quickly, especially in day-to-day operations. Some of the biggest improvements in operational efficiency have come through our virtual office manager and assistant, a little canine chat bot we call Ein.
“You’re so lucky! You get to work in your pajamas!” That’s the most common reaction I get when I tell people I work from home. I don’t work in my pajamas. I’m pretty sure none of my colleagues do either. And if they do, they’re not sharing it. Obviously, it’s a personal decision, but, for me, when I’m in my pajamas, I want to chill, not work. And although my “office” is at times my recliner, I am working, not lounging.