I have a confession to make. When I ask my IDE to compile my code, I whisper "please" under my breath. When it successfully runs my tests, I quietly say "thank you." My colleagues would probably think I've spent too much time by ocean if they knew, but this small ritual has become as natural to me as checking tide tables each morning.
It started as a joke, really. During one particularly frustrating debugging session last winter, when rain was hammering our cabin windows and my code was stubbornly refusing to cooperate, I found myself muttering increasingly desperate pleas to my screen. "Come on, please just work," I'd whisper, as if my IDE were a temperamental friend who needed gentle coaxing rather than aggressive keystrokes.
But somewhere between pleading and eventual breakthrough, I realized something profound was happening. 🪨 I wasn't just talking to my computer—I was nurturing a relationship with tools that shape my daily existence as a programmer.
Spectrum of Digital Courtesy
Frustrated Fighter
"Why won't this stupid thing work?!"
Neutral Navigator
"Run test suite."
Courteous Collaborator
"Could you please run tests? Thank you!"
Most programmers fall somewhere between first two categories. We treat our development environment as a tool—functional, utilitarian, and occasionally frustrating. But what if we shifted our perspective? What if our IDE isn't just a tool, but a collaborative partner deserving of same courtesy we'd extend to a human teammate?
Psychology of Courtesy to Code
🪨 As an INTP with a strong feeling side, I've always been fascinated by intersection of logic and emotion. My analytical mind wants to understand why being polite to machines feels right, while my empathetic side simply knows that it does.
A Typical IDE Conversation in Ken's World:
thing is, this isn't just quirky behavior—it's shaping my relationship with technology in ways I never expected. When I treat my IDE with courtesy, I'm not just being polite to a program; I'm reinforcing patterns of respect and gratitude that extend far beyond my keyboard.
Tide Pool of Insight
Just as tide pools reflect larger ocean's ecosystem in miniature, our interactions with our development tools reflect our broader approach to collaboration and problem-solving. courtesy I show my IDE ripples outward into how I interact with APIs, debug someone else's code, and even approach code reviews.
When ADHD Meets Digital Courtesy
🪨 Living with ADHD means my relationship with technology is already complex. Some days, my IDE and I are in perfect harmony—I'm hyperfocused, code flows like a calm tide, and every compilation succeeds on first try. Other days, we're locked in a frustrating dance of scattered attention and cascading errors.
But I've noticed something interesting: on days when I remember to be polite to my tools, everything goes smoother. It's not magic (though sometimes it feels like it). It's psychology. When I approach my IDE with courtesy rather than frustration, I'm priming myself for collaboration rather than conflict.
Storm Mode (Impatient Ken)
- ⚡ Aggressive keyboard mashing
- ⚡ Muttering complaints at error messages
- ⚡ Fighting with tools instead of working with them
- ⚡ Higher stress, more mistakes
Calm Tide Mode (Courteous Ken)
- 🌊 Gentle, deliberate keystrokes
- 🌊 "Thank you" after successful operations
- 🌊 Collaborative problem-solving mindset
- 🌊 Lower stress, clearer thinking
Ripple Effect of Digital Kindness
🪨 What started as a silly habit has evolved into something much deeper. When you practice courtesy with your tools, it changes how you approach entire craft of programming:
Code Reviews Become Conversations
When you're used to being polite to your IDE, extending that courtesy to fellow developers' code becomes natural. Instead of "This is wrong," it becomes "Could we explore an alternative approach here?"
Debugging Becomes Detective Work
Rather than fighting bugs, you start collaborating with error messages. "What are you trying to tell me?" becomes more productive than "Why won't you work?"
Team Dynamics Improve
same respect you show your tools naturally extends to team meetings, pair programming sessions, and technical discussions. Courtesy becomes contagious.
A Personal Revelation
"I realized that way I talk to my computer reflects way I talk to myself. When I'm harsh with my tools, I'm usually being harsh with my own mistakes. When I practice digital courtesy, I'm also practicing self-compassion."
Practical Courtesy: Small Acts, Big Impact
🪨 You don't need to completely overhaul your development workflow to practice digital courtesy. Sometimes smallest gestures create biggest shifts in perspective:
Terminal Courtesy
Comment Courtesy
Daily Practice
- 🌅 Morning ritual: "Good morning, development environment. Let's create something beautiful today."
- 🌅 After successful compilation: A quiet "thank you" under your breath.
- 🌅 When facing errors: "What are you trying to teach me?" instead of frustration.
- 🌅 End of day: "Thank you for helping me grow today."
Beyond Politeness: A Philosophy of Technological Respect
🪨 Here on Oregon Coast, we understand power of respect for forces larger than ourselves. ocean demands respect—not because it has feelings, but because approaching it with humility and awareness keeps us safe and opens us to its beauty.
Our development tools are similar. They're complex systems created by thousands of human hours, refined by countless developers, and embedded with collective wisdom of programming community. When we treat them with courtesy, we're acknowledging that complexity and honoring human effort behind code.
Three Pillars of Digital Courtesy
Gratitude
Acknowledging incredible complexity working seamlessly in background
Partnership
Viewing tools as collaborators rather than servants
Growth
Using courtesy as a practice for becoming a more empathetic developer
This isn't about anthropomorphizing technology or believing our computers have feelings. It's about using our interactions with technology as a practice ground for kind of humans we want to be—patient, grateful, collaborative, and kind.
A Quiet Confession from Coast
Sometimes, when I'm debugging a particularly stubborn issue late at night, with sound of waves through our cabin windows, I find myself having actual conversations with my IDE. Not angry monologues, but gentle, problem-solving dialogues.
"What do you think about this approach?" I'll whisper to VS Code. "Should we try a different pattern here?" And somehow, in act of vocalizing question with courtesy rather than frustration, answer often becomes clear.
Maybe it's ADHD brain needing to externalize thoughts. Maybe it's introvert's way of practicing social skills in a safe space. Or maybe it's just a programmer who's spent enough time by ocean to understand that some forces deserve our respect, whether they can hear us or not.
Lighthouse Moment
🪨 truth is, being polite to my IDE has made me a better programmer. Not because software responds to courtesy, but because practicing courtesy changes practitioner.
When I approach my development environment with gratitude and respect, I'm more patient with complex problems. When I thank my tools for working well, I'm more aware of small successes that make up a productive day. When I speak kindly to my computer, I'm practicing speaking kindly to myself.
"In a world where technology increasingly mediates our relationships with work, creativity, and each other, perhaps practicing digital courtesy is practice for staying human in an automated world."
So yes, I say "please" to my IDE and "thank you" to successful compilations. I wish my terminal a good morning and apologize when I accidentally force-quit a process. My colleagues might think it's quirky, but I've learned that small rituals of respect—whether directed at humans, nature, or tools of our trade—shape us into kind of people we want to be.
And in this age of increasingly powerful AI and complex development tools, maybe a little digital courtesy isn't just good practice—maybe it's good preparation for a future where line between tool and collaborator continues to blur.
Your Turn to Reflect
How do you interact with your development tools? What small acts of courtesy could you incorporate into your daily coding practice? Remember, we're not just building software—we're building ourselves.