Why No One Cares About Your Perfect Code

I clearly remember myself back in school, just getting into programming. That was long before my first job — I was building mobile games and writing backend scripts for their leaderboards. I did everything on my own, and almost no one ever saw my code.

But even then, I was somehow convinced that a good developer is someone who writes code that follows all the best practices, with perfectly chosen variable names and not a single flaw. If your code was less than perfect in any way — you simply couldn’t call yourself a good programmer.

Back then, the only code I saw came from popular open-source projects, frameworks, and libraries. And everything there looked serious: thoughtful architecture, clear naming, tests. It felt like every line of code was the result of long discussions and careful decisions. Even variable names sparked debates.

So when I got my first job, I expected to see how real professionals worked. I imagined well-thought-out architecture, strict rules, and best practices in action. I thought I’d finally get to see "proper" code in a real-world project.

And I did. But it was nothing like I expected.

Code Written by Real Professionals

I opened the project — and I was shocked.

Up until then, I thought all the issues they talk about in books and blog posts — massive classes, duplicated logic, unreadable variables, missing tests — were exaggerated for dramatic effect. "There’s no way real production code could look that bad," I used to think. Turns out, it absolutely can.

I went through a phase of rejection. I couldn’t accept it. I figured I’d just landed in the "wrong" company. That something was clearly off with these developers if they treated their code like this. That they simply weren’t good at their job if this was the best they could write.

But the product worked. And not just worked — it was growing, had customers, and didn’t cause any major issues.

I tried to make improvements — refactor some architecture here, clean up code there, add tests. But no one really noticed. For the end users, nothing changed — everything worked just fine.

Over time, and after a few more companies, I realized that perfect code is the exception, not the rule. And I stopped reacting so strongly to code that didn’t fit my idea of "how it’s supposed to be."

This became especially obvious after a few production incidents that happened solely because of mistakes in code I had refactored. As a result, bugs popped up where there had been none before. That’s when it hit me: cleaner or "more correct" code doesn’t always mean better code.

Eventually, I joined a project with perfect architecture, strict code reviews, and almost full adherence to every "best practice" I knew at the time. I thought: this is it — a real-life example of how it’s supposed to be. You don’t often see that, even in mature projects.

But once again, my expectations were shattered. It turned out things weren’t that smooth, even with best practices in place. Most developers focused not on substance, but on the "wrapping" — the patterns, the structure, the rules. And that wrapping was visible only to the developers themselves.

Some might say it made the work easier, but in practice, I saw the opposite. It just made things more complicated. Instead of solving real problems, we were busy maintaining the complexity we’d created ourselves.

That was the final realization — chasing perfection isn’t worth it. Code that simply does its job is far more valuable than code that looks perfect but doesn’t work as it should.

What Actually Matters

We don’t write code for the sake of writing code. We write it to solve problems. That realization doesn’t come right away — I’m living proof of that. I used to be obsessed with "correctness": principles, patterns, best practices. But over time, I understood — code has value not in itself, but in the problems it solves.

A good developer isn’t someone who blindly follows every rule and principle. It’s someone who understands the reasoning behind them — and knows when it’s okay to break them for the sake of something more important: solving a real problem.

Have you ever sorted a list of variables alphabetically? Or by name length? I haven’t. But I knew people who did. And that’s definitely not something worth spending time on. Neither users nor other developers will ever notice. There’s just no point.

I used to spend an hour trying to come up with the "perfect" variable name. Now that just seems funny to me. Code isn’t a piece of art. It’s a tool. Its value lies in how well it gets the job done.

Knowing best practices — and being able to apply them — is important. But what’s even more important is applying them wisely. You have to think critically and not prioritize code purity over the real needs of the project.

After all, we all have jobs because code — and the world — are imperfect. I’m not saying you should write bad code. But remember this next time you get annoyed by someone’s "ugly" code.

The Balance Between Ideal and Real

Back then, my world was black and white — code was either terrible or perfect. No in-between. If I saw even a small compromise in a solution, that was enough for me to call it bad code.

"Why didn’t they just use Event Sourcing? It’s clearly the perfect fit here!" — that’s what I would’ve thought.

But now I see that it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that the code works. Sure, there might be issues down the road. But that’s something for later — or it might never happen. The project might not even make it that far.

So the real skill isn’t chasing perfection at all costs — it’s knowing how to find balance.

Architecture Should Grow With the Project

In either case, no one will care how your code looks. What matters is that it doesn’t get in the way. Because development can be slowed down just as much by bad decisions as by overly "perfect" ones.

If you’re building a PoC or MVP, chances are you don’t need to apply every best practice or obsess over code elegance. The only real goal at that stage is to build something that works — either for internal demos or as a minimal product for early users.

Done On Time Beats Done Perfectly

If you’re on a tight deadline to deliver a feature, don’t waste time debating the perfect variable name or choosing an architectural approach that "might pay off later."

It’s better to go with something simple — even if it’s not perfect — and get it done on time. Spend more energy on testing to make sure it works as expected. Then, if needed, you can always improve it later. The pursuit of perfection shouldn’t slow you down.

Less Code, Fewer Problems

This one’s simple: if you have to write a bunch of extra code just to make something "correct," you probably shouldn’t do it.

The more code you write — the more conditions and abstractions you introduce — the more things can go wrong.

The Peace of Acceptance

Having gone through all the stages of acceptance, I no longer divide code into "awful" and "perfect." I look at it in the context of the problems it solves.

Code is just a tool. It doesn’t have to be beautiful — and it definitely doesn’t exist to be admired. It just has to work.

I no longer want to write code that feels perfect to me. I want to write code that works without unnecessary headaches, that’s clear to the team, and doesn’t get in the way.

I’ve learned to see the difference between simply following "best practices" — and writing code that solves problems in the context of a specific project.

And that understanding brings me peace. But that doesn’t mean the rules don’t matter anymore. In fact, to break the rules — you have to know them even better than to simply follow them.

Freedom in code starts with awareness, not ignorance.

By the way, if this topic resonates with you, I invite you to read my thoughts on Clean Architecture and DDD. I share some personal lessons on how chasing "best practices" can actually make things harder — and take you further away from what really matters.