This post is about a software debugging experience and an old favorite TV show of mine.

Last week I was trying to ship a software release that was overdue because of a few very hard-to-find bugs. I spent most of two days trying to narrow it down, all the time running into peripheral obstacles like tools that were not working correctly. Absolutely maddening. Technique after technique failed. I had to reschedule or postpone other things that I had planned. My anger mounted and I found myself cursing under my breath, typing too hard on my keyboard, repeatedly throwing all the weight of my experience and concentration against it. Hour followed hour of fruitless searching and testing, until suddenly it yielded. I had a fix (a one-character fix, mind you), and the release shipped. Afterward I felt grimly satisfied, but also exhausted and emotionally worn out, kind of empty. Again.

I don’t like that kind of experience, which feels like getting sucked into an unfriendly argument. But it keeps happening, because, unfortunately, it keeps working. I get increasingly angry until the bug gets fixed.

Remember the old TV series The Incredible Hulk? Part Jekyll and Hyde, part The Fugitive. David Banner turns into the Hulk when sufficiently angered, causes some property damage, then, when he cools off, transforms back into David, who by then is usually obliged to slink away before the press and the cops catch up to him. The opening narration for each episode included this:

The creature is driven by rage, and pursued by an investigative reporter…The creature is wanted for a murder he didn’t commit. David Banner is believed to be dead, and he must let the world think that he is dead, until he can find a way to control the raging spirit that dwells within him.

Because it was an episodic TV series with a budget, each show returned to the status quo, and the format of many episodes was predictable. David drifts into town with a new assumed last name, works hard at some blue-collar job, and becomes ensnared in the intrigues and injustices that attend one of his co-workers. David firmly opposes the oppressors, who escalate threats and finally resort to violence, at which point David “Hulks out” and beats the crap out of the thugs, usually twice, which seems to correct the situation in time for David to sneak away, in a pattern that my friend R— hilariously dubs “Touched By a Monster”. Again and again.

Why doesn’t David break this cycle? I mean, even if his Hulk-outs are incurable, there are certainly some lifestyle changes one can imagine him making. Like choosing not to get quite as involved, for one. Imagine Dr. Phil asking: “So how’s that working for you, David?” The answer might be: “Better all the time.” Put yourself in his (splitting) shoes. The first couple of times I’m sure it was scary. But over time, as he realizes that his creature does property damage but not murder, as he sees problems get solved, as he wakes up with wounds healed and enemies chastened, wouldn’t it make him bolder about throwing himself in harm’s way?

One of the episodes in the series that came closest to asking this question was “The First”, where David stumbles upon a previous Hulk experiment, one where the experimenter could both cause and cure the transformations. That doctor is dead but his subject, Del, is an old man now who enjoyed hulking out, which treated his arthritis and kept bullies off his back. The late doctor left two doses of a cure, which David intends to use to cure both Del and himself. Del finds out, disagrees, hulks out, destroys both cures, David hulks out, they fight, Del loses. It’s cool enough.

But imagine an alternate ending.

Imagine that David succeeds in curing Del. His opponent disarmed of his own monster, David regards the final syringe, intended for himself. Would he be able to bid a permanent farewell to the violent, dependable savior hidden in his cells? After it had rescued him from a hundred deaths and maimings, does he remember, by this time, any other way to solve his problems?

I don’t know why anger works so well for me in debugging. Maybe it’s about focus. Maybe it improves my memory, or makes me insist on consistency. A long time ago I learned how to use my anger constructively, which has certainly been a good thing. I just question it when I’m slumped over at the end of one of these sessions with strips of torn shirt hanging off my shoulders.