Now that a ‘machine’ can write code no one give a crap.
Does it work? Then it’s done.
Why would anyone need devs to harness some ‘human capable’ but highly syntactically specific programming instructions that get compiled down into machine code anyhow
The new programming language is English
I mean, it’ll get better, but it ain’t there yet.
Problem statement: We have four major repos spanning two different Azure DevOps servers/instances/top-level accounts. To check the status of pull requests required a lot of clicks and windows and sometimes re-logging in. So we wanted a dashboard customized to our needs that puts all active pull requests on each repo into a single page, links them to YouTrack, links them to the Azure DevOps pages, auto-refreshes, and flags them by needing attention for approval, merge conflicts, and unresolved comments. And it would use PATs for access that are only stored locally and not in the code or repo.
AI used: I began by describing the project goals to ChatGPT 5 and having it suggest a basic architecture. Then I used the Junie agent in JetBrain’s WebStorm to develop it. I gave it the ChatGPT output and told it to create a Readme and the project guidelines. Then I implemented it step by step (basic page layout, fill with dummy data, add Azure API calls, integrate with YouTrack, add features).
By following this step by step iteration, almost every step was a one-shot success - only once that I remember did it do something “wrong” - but sometimes I caught it being repetitive or inconsistent, so I added a “maximize code reuse and put all configuration in one place” step.
After about 3 hours, some of which was asking it code to my standards or change look and feel, I had a very full featured application. Three different views - the big picture, PRs that need my attention, and active PRs grouped by YouTrack items. I gave it to the team, they loved it and suggested a few new features. Another hour with the Junie Agent and I incorporated all the suggestions. Now we all use it every day.
I purposefully didn’t hand edit a single line of code. I did read the code and suggested improvements, but other than that, I think a user with no programming experience could have done it (particularly if they asked chatGPT on the side, “Now what?”). And it looked a helluva lot better than it would have if I coded it because I’m rusty and lazy.
Overall, it was my biggest success story of AI coding. We’ve been experimenting with AI bug triage, creating utility functions, and adding tests to our primary apps (all .NET Maui) but with a huge code base, it often missing things or makes bad assumptions.
But this level of project was near perfect capability to execution. I don’t know how much my skills helped me manage the project, but I know that I didn’t write the code. And it was kinda fun.
E.g. the odd taste of licorice. Must mean that it was healthy or good right? Turns out licorice really isn't good for you. https://www.heart.org/en/news/2022/10/28/black-licorice-is-a...
So I bought a whole bag of it and ate a piece every day or so. After a week, I wasn’t cringing as much. After two or three weeks I started craving it. By the end of the month, I liked it. I don’t love it, but I did buy another bag when that one was done. And yes I know the health risks, but I’m never going to be eating a bag or two a day.
The weirdest, though, was cilantro. I’m in the genetic group that thinks it tastes soapy. And yet, after trying it enough, I love it.
I’ve found it useful, but I recommend a “give me an honest critical evaluation as if you were an editor/agent/publisher” and “Is this derivative of anything?”
Anyway, it’s 40 years later and I just read this article and said, “Oh! Now I get it.” A little too late, for Dr. Hippe’s class.
I had the opportunity to work the Foy Desk a few times during my undergrad at Auburn in the early 2000s - mostly as a volunteer while the regular workers would be in meetings. At the time we had a multi-page list of common questions and answers, the Internet (as it was then), as well as access to university computer systems for things like class schedule lookups.
The most common questions I got then were from other students, most around when a certain class started or where it was located. This is was the early 2000s and, while a lot of this was available via OASIS (the Auburn student system) for any student, many either didn't have the computer savvy to use it or ... didn't have a computer at home at all!
The most unusual call I took was from a student who was lost in Haley Center (the largest building on Auburn's campus - at the time, not sure about now as I haven't been back in decades - and somewhat difficult to navigate if you aren't familiar with its layout). The poor kid sounded absolutely panicked. I actually had to pull up a map and walk the him turn-by-turn until he found the main hallway again.
As an aside, it's neat to see a few other Auburn alums on here. WDE!
I was a theater projectionist, back when you had 20 minute reels you had to constantly change, while babysitting two high-voltage, water-cooled, carbon arc projectors. Sometimes the film would break and you’d have to splice it. So when the theater got a print in, you had to count and log the number of splices for each reel, then the next theater would do the same and retire the print when it got too spliced up (plus, sometimes if it was the last night of a run, some lazy projectionists would splice it in place with masking tape and then you’d have to fix it). Sometimes you had to splice in new trailers or remove inappropriate ones as well.
Anyway, you counted splices by rapidly winding through the reel with a benchtop motor with a speed control belted to a takeup reel while the source spun freely. Then, while letting the film slide between your fingers, counting each “bump” you felt as it wound through. I was told to ground myself by touching the metal switch plate of the speed control knob with my other hand. One night I forgot and let go until my hair started rising. I’d gone through most of the reel at a very high speed and acquired its charge.
I reached for the switch plate and shot an 8-10” arcing discharge between the plate and my fingers.
Lesson learned, I held the switch plate from then on.