So, I got this brilliant idea, or so I thought, for something I’m now calling the “Manute Bol Pool.” Sounds kinda fancy, right? Like some exclusive resort feature? Nah. It was supposed to be a tiny, little DIY pond in my backyard. Something simple for a couple of goldfish, maybe a lily pad. A weekend project, I figured.
I started digging. Easy enough at first. The shovel went in, dirt came out. But then, I don’t know, I guess I just got into a rhythm. Or maybe I was just trying to avoid doing other chores. The hole kept getting deeper. And deeper. Not wider, mind you, just deeper. Like I was trying to dig my way to the other side of the world. My spouse came out, took one look, and just shook their head. “What are you making there, a well for a very thirsty giraffe?”
That’s when it hit me: Manute Bol. Tallest guy in NBA history, right? This hole was the Manute Bol of backyard ponds. Ridiculously, comically deep and awkwardly narrow. It wasn’t a pond anymore; it was a pit. A muddy, inconvenient pit. Forget goldfish; they’d need oxygen tanks for the dive. And if a kid fell in? Nightmare fuel.
So, why am I rambling about my failed landscaping adventure?
Because this whole Manute Bol Pool fiasco reminded me so much of this project we had at my old gig. Oh boy, that “Project Nightingale” they called it. Supposed to be a quick, elegant little internal tool. Streamline some workflow, make everyone’s life easier. That was the sales pitch, anyway.
But it wasn’t just one thing. It was everything all at once.
- The database guys wanted to use their fancy new NoSQL thingy.
- The frontend team insisted on the JavaScript framework-of-the-week.
- Then management decided it needed to integrate with our ancient mainframe system, which nobody under 60 knew how to talk to.
- Oh, and make it run on tablets, phones, and probably a smart toaster too.
It started as a simple idea, just like my pond. But then everyone had to add their two cents. Scope creep wasn’t just a problem; it was the entire project plan. It grew taller and taller in terms of features, stacked one on top of the other, teetering precariously. But its actual usefulness, its core purpose? That got narrower and narrower, buried under all the bloat. Just like my Manute Bol Pool, it was deep in complexity but shockingly shallow in practicality.
We used to joke internally, calling it the “Manute Bol App.” All height, no breadth. You’d click one button, and it would take you down this rabbit hole of options and sub-menus, and you’d forget what you were even trying to do. Trying to get any actual work done with it was a nightmare. It was slow, buggy, and nobody really understood how all the parts were supposed to fit together. Sound familiar?
I remember one meeting, the project lead, bless his heart, was trying to explain the architecture. He had this diagram that looked like a plate of spaghetti thrown against the wall. He’s pointing, “So this microservice talks to this API gateway, which then queues a message for this other service, unless it’s a Tuesday, in which case it polls the legacy database directly…” We were all just nodding, completely lost. Just like me, staring into my backyard abyss, wondering how I got there.
I left that company a while back. For reasons, you know? Mostly because of messes like “Project Nightingale.” Last I heard, they were still trying to “refactor” it. Which probably means they just assigned a new batch of unlucky devs to stare into that particular abyss. My Manute Bol Pool in the yard? Well, I’m thinking of turning it into a very, very deep planter for a single, very tall sunflower. Seems fitting, doesn’t it?
