You know that feeling, right? When the air gets heavy, the sky turns a weird color, and you just know something massive is about to hit. That’s the “you’ve got a big storm coming” vibe. I’ve learned to trust that feeling, mostly because I ignored it once, and boy, did I pay the price.
The “Easy” Project That Wasn’t
Years ago, I was working on this project. On paper, it looked like a walk in the park. A simple upgrade, a few tweaks here and there. My boss at the time, a real smooth talker, sold it to everyone as a quick win. “We’ll be in and out, heroes by Friday,” he said. I was younger then, maybe a bit naive, and I bought into it. I saw the specs, nodded along, thought, “Yeah, this looks straightforward.”
There were little signs, though. Tiny things. Like when we asked for certain server access and it took days, not hours. Or when a key person from another department was always “too busy” for a quick chat. I remember thinking, “Hmm, that’s a bit odd,” but I brushed it off. The deadline was looming, and the pressure was on to just get it done. We were all focused on the “happy path,” you know? The path where everything just works.
And Then the Heavens Opened
Deployment night. That’s when the storm truly broke. We pushed the button, and almost immediately, things started to unravel. Not just one thing, but a cascade of failures. The “simple upgrade” apparently had dependencies we hadn’t fully mapped. The “minor tweaks” conflicted with systems we barely knew existed. It was like we’d kicked a hornet’s nest in the dark.
The next few hours, stretching into the next day, were pure chaos. Phones ringing off the hook, angry emails flooding in, upper management breathing down our necks. The “quick win” had turned into an all-hands-on-deck emergency. We were scrambling, patching, rolling back parts, then trying other things. Sleep was a distant memory. My stomach was in knots. I remember looking at my team, their faces pale and stressed, and just feeling this immense weight of “I should have seen this coming.” Or at least, I should have prepared for something like this.
My “Never Again” Practices
That whole disaster was a brutal teacher. But it taught me some lessons I carry with me every single day. It’s not about being pessimistic; it’s about being realistic and prepared. So, here’s what I do now, religiously, especially when I get that “storm’s coming” tingle:
- I dig deep. Real deep. No more surface-level assessments. I ask the dumb questions. I push for details. If something feels off, I poke it until I understand why. I’ll talk to anyone and everyone who might be even remotely connected. You’d be surprised what you uncover when you just keep asking “why?” and “what if?”.
- Assume things WILL go wrong. Seriously. I build in buffers for everything – time, resources, testing. If someone tells me a task will take two days, I mentally budget three, maybe four if it’s critical. Because something unexpected always pops up. Always.
- Communicate the bad stuff early. This was a hard one to learn. Nobody wants to be the bearer of bad news. But trust me, it’s way better to say, “Hey, I see a potential problem here, and it might delay us or cost more,” than to explain a full-blown catastrophe later. People might not like hearing it, but they’ll respect you for it in the long run. Or at least, they can’t say they weren’t warned.
- Have a rollback plan. And test it. This is non-negotiable now. Before we make any significant change, we map out exactly how to undo it if things go south. And we don’t just write it down; we try to test parts of it if we can. Knowing you can quickly revert to a stable state is a massive stress reliever when the pressure is on.
- The “What If It All Burns Down?” Drill. Okay, maybe not literally burn down, but I sit and think about the absolute worst-case scenarios. What if this key person gets sick? What if this supplier fails? What if our primary system crashes? Then I think about contingency plans. It’s not about dwelling on the negative, it’s about not being caught completely flat-footed.
So yeah, that big storm? It came. It wrecked things. But it also cleared the air and forced me to build better. Now, when I see those clouds gathering, I don’t panic. I just check my prep list and make sure my umbrella is strong.
