Today, I had the chance to catch up with an old colleague after quite some time.
We’re both developers, so the small talk quickly spiraled into a full-blown, hour-long dev chat. The usual stuff—“What are you working on?” “How are you approaching that?” “Man, I just used this library, and it’s insane—you have to try it!” “Have you thought about using this pattern to solve that?”
I love conversations like that. I know we’re in the minority, but that’s my bread and butter. That’s what still makes me tick after all these years. It’s never a chore—it’s always an opportunity. Time flies, and I come out the other side fired up, ready to do more, to do better, to try new things.
I don’t take this for granted. For many years in my career, I was the only developer at my company. Surrounded by designers and marketers, I learned to branch out and see things from different perspectives. But I always missed that dev point of view. I longed for a mentor, and when I finally got one, I squeezed every bit of value from that relationship. It wasn’t just about learning from someone who wasn’t a YouTube tutorial—it was the first time I truly understood what it meant to be a developer.
I’ve been lucky to work with incredibly talented people over the years. All different. All with something to teach. I cherish that. The long hours, the endless tickets, the PR reviews—they’ve all added up to something. They’re part of the baggage I proudly carry. I am the sum of those experiences, molded by my personality. That’s who I am as a developer.
For a long time, I was totally passive in these exchanges. If I didn’t know something, I stayed silent. I’d listen, connect the dots, and maybe ask for clarification later—if I could work up the courage. Sometimes I was too shy even to ask, which led to panic attacks as I scrambled to understand what was being said without looking like the dumbest dev on the team. I regret that approach now. I could have been less timid. I could have jumped into conversations, learned more, and done it in a healthier way.
I’ve also been on the other side. I’ve had junior devs ask me questions about my work. I always answer, but it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t see myself as some keeper of wisdom. I just try things, figure them out, and hope they make sense. People say I’m good at it, and I do enjoy complex challenges, but I don’t feel like an expert or someone who should be teaching. I usually end up as a partner, figuring things out together, approaching new questions like any other obscure ticket in my queue.
But today’s conversation was different. No mentor-mentee dynamic—just two developers chatting about the slice of life that is our work. Where our experiences overlapped, it was great to exchange opinions and see things from a fresh angle. It was also awesome to learn new stuff, get exposed to techniques and tools I don’t usually work with. It all adds to a broader context—a context I believe is vital to master if you want to be a good developer. I’m wary of people who hyper-specialize and refuse to look beyond their comfort zone. Sure, you get really good at one thing, but you miss the bigger picture and lose flexibility and adaptability.
There was also a part of the conversation where I was the one explaining my approach and sharing my perspective. And you know what? It felt good. It felt great to feel confident about something. The other person’s interest was genuine, and I didn’t feel like I was boring or patronizing. We were just exchanging experiences. It was a powerful reminder of the journey I’ve been on—how far I’ve come. Things that terrified me just a few years ago flowed out naturally. Stuff I was once too scared to ask about over a Google Meet call felt like second nature. It felt good to see progress, to trust the process, to realize that all the effort has been worth it.
I’m grateful for the conversation we had today. I’ll make sure to share this post with the person who made it possible. It was a chat that made me feel better, enriched me, and fired me up for what’s next—work, side projects, life. I’m grateful for moments like this, where I can reflect on my journey and appreciate the people and experiences that shaped me as a developer and as a human being.
This conversation also reminded me how vital a sense of community is. Writing these posts isn’t just about filling a blank canvas—it’s about reminding myself who I am, what I know, and everything I still have to learn.