Why the Linter Stays On

We now write a short note after every incident, and the rule is that it has to be useful to somebody who was asleep at the time. What happened, how we noticed, what we did and what we changed. Blame is not one of the headings, and it has never needed to be.

There is a version of this that uses a library, and for a larger team it might be the right call. We looked at it, read the changelog and counted the dependencies. For the handful of cases we actually have, thirty lines we understand beat three thousand we would have to trust.

One useful habit is to ask what would have told us sooner. Not who should have caught it, but what signal already existed and was not being looked at. Usually there was a log line or a metric sitting there the whole time, and a small alert costs far less than the outage did.

A simpler version

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After that, the only thing left was to delete the workaround. This is the step that tends to get skipped, which is how a codebase ends up with fixes for bugs that stopped existing years ago. Put the removal in the same ticket, or accept that it will outlive everyone on the team.

Performance work is mostly subtraction. Before reaching for a clever technique, find out what the page is doing that nobody asked it to do. We have never yet profiled something without finding a piece of work that could simply be removed, and removal has the best cost profile of anything.

Test it with the keyboard before you call it finished. Tab through the page, press Enter on things and see where focus lands afterwards. It takes less than a minute, it needs no tooling at all, and it finds a remarkable number of problems that an automated checker will never report.

What it cost

What surprised me was how much of the cost was in the waiting. The work itself was quick. The build took nine minutes, the review sat for a day and the deploy window was on Thursdays. Shaving a second off the code path would have been easy and would not have changed a thing.

Naming turned out to matter more than the structure did. Once the function stopped being called process and started saying what it did, two of the three bugs in the surrounding code became obvious to everybody reading it, including the person who had written them, who was me.

Every layer in this stack is caching something, and each one was added by a reasonable person solving a real problem. The trouble only starts when nobody remembers all of them. Before adding another, draw the whole path on paper and write down who clears each cache and when it happens.

The wrong theory

The fix itself took four lines. Finding out where those four lines belonged took most of a week, including one afternoon spent proving that the bug was not where everyone, including me, had been absolutely certain it was. That is a normal ratio, and it is worth telling new people about.

We had been treating this as a small problem for about a year. It only ever appeared under load, it went away on a retry, and nobody could reproduce it on a laptop. That combination is how a small problem gets to stay in a codebase long enough to become part of the architecture.