10yr+ DevOps career (the entirety of it having been dedicated to creation and maintenance of NDA-wrapped systems that don’t even exist anymore (so the “proof” became “poof!” thanks to legalese prohibiting me from having it as “live portfolio”) because corporations don’t GAF about how much of our own soul we put upon coding something as programmers), incomplete bachelor degree for reasons too long to get into detail, started coding during my late childhood, 2 yrs (and counting) of unemployment and, sincerely, utter disillusionment with the winds of all fields of human endeavors, especially the enshittification of tech… Even though I’m not a junior, sometimes I widened my search to include junior positions as well (“you shouldn’t be too picky” as I heard a few times, as if job positions were the only ones granted the divine right to be “picky” about who they should hire), so I can quite relate…
It’s been some time since I gave up doing pointless searching, and all of this makes me wonder if my next job will be “in-situ quality test inspector of six-feet-under diggings”, “afterlife consultancy” or “personal secretary of Ms. Rosa Caveira”, because I have no expectations (nor the will) of being “repositioned” within the “job market”, especially because I don’t want to be a ChatGPT/Claude/Gemini nanny, which seems to be the case for most, if not all, DevOps jobs nowadays.
At least Ms. Caveira doesn’t require experience, the job requires no paperwork, it’d be instant start, and I feel like She’d the best employer ever (e.g. I wouldn’t be a fungible number in Her spreadsheet).












No. I would rather stay at a hotel advertised as “heavily haunted”. I would love to stay at such a hotel. I would pay whatever price for staying a full night.
I would pay extra for personalized haunting, and even more for the haunting spirit to target me and throw the pillows, the mattress, the table, the whole wardrobe, the lamp, the bathroom’s sink and/or even the whole wooden door at me.
I would pay for me to be flung through the door frame and across the suddenly-empty hotel corridor, only for me to become stuck in an endless hallway trying to flee from the haunting spirit, doing an end-turn and getting to the exact same hallway leading to the only room whose door is roughly carved with my name followed by “you’re eternally stuck at 3 AM, you know who I am, now you’re fated to come to me”, a black rose with sharp thorns hanging at the ice-cold electrified knob, some petals of Cestrum nocturnum scattered across the room, a large Latrodectus hanging from a thick spiderweb next to the bed covered with heart-shaped petals, two Dendroaspis polylepis guarding both ends of the corridor, and the only open window featuring a gigantic Blood Moon before a thick fog and a 2-meter-wingspan red-eyed Bubo bubo perched on the window frame and looking through my eyes right at my deepest fragment left of a soul.
I doubt Trivago or AirBnB have such a kind of hotel, though.
!asklemmy@lemmy.world