Do you find yourself haunted by problems that exist in codebases you worked on in previous lives? I do. And I wish I could let them go but something inside gnaws away at me in the vain hope that one day I’ll be able to go back and right those past wrongs. I’m sure it’s no different to wishing you could go back in time and fix anything else you’ve done in your past, such as saying something nasty to a spouse, partner or friend. Of course I have those moments too, but fixing old code somehow seems more achievable. For those of you blessed enough to not suffer from this affliction let me give you an example...
I started my professional programming career just over 20 years ago at a small software house that wrote graphics packages for Windows 3.x. I initially worked on the little tools that they bundled with the main products. One tool, called KeyPad, was designed to help users enter characters not easily accessible from the keyboard. The application’s main window was a grid containing the hard to reach letters or symbols (depending on the font) and the user just clicked a character to send it to the previously focused application. One of the changes I made was to ensure that when the application window was resized it “snapped” to a grid that ensured the client area was an integral number characters in width and height. This meant trapping the WM_SIZE message so that if the window was shrunk or widened then the other dimension was adjusted appropriately. It was in my changes to the WM_SIZE handler that I left a really ugly hack that I’m not proud of.
The problem I faced was that when the WM_SIZE handler fired I then adjusted the dimensions and resized the window again to “snap” it to the nearest desirable size. This caused the WM_SIZE message to be sent again and so the code started to become re-entrant. For some (unknown to me) reason the window was a slightly different size to what I had calculated and that caused an amusing animated effect where the window rapidly disappeared up its own backside. I couldn’t work this out and so I added a hack to the WM_SIZE handler to cause the re-entrant behaviour to just stop on the second call. This “worked” but left a slightly odd visual effect that no one in the QA team seemed to notice. So it got shipped.
Many years after leaving the company I read an article in MSJ (MSDN Magazine as it was back then) or perhaps a blog post by Raymond Chen that described how to correctly calculate the total size of a window based on a desired client window area. And at that moment it dawned on me exactly what I had done wrong all those years before. But by now the company had folded due to competing products and so there wasn’t anyone to tell even if I really wanted to try and help correct my past mistake.
Clearly there is nothing I can do now, and at time I’m sure I was doing the best job I possibly could. So why do I feel so mortified? It’s not just my code either. I have sent an email to one of my previous teams at Christmas time to remind them about someone else’s bug that only shows up once a year when the gap in published market data exceeds 2 working days . I feel bad because I didn’t just get on and fix it, instead leaving it to be prioritised - which it never was.
I realise I should just take the advice from the Bob Newhart clip that J.B. Rainsberger played during his Agile on the Beach keynote this year and “Stop It!” but I’m probably a lost cause. For those younger programmers out there who didn’t get to see Paul Hammond at the ACCU Conference in 2009 give his lightning talk “Caring Will Only Cause You Pain”, let this be your warning so that you might be saved in future from the ghosts of projects past.
 The potential for two days of holiday to butt up to a weekend and create a 4 day gap also occurs at Easter but the firm publishing the market data did occasionally publish data on one of the holidays so it didn’t always cause it to fail.