The way 'technical debt' builds up in a digital project

Building an app is like tidying the house before guests arrive. You’re in a rush, so you shove the clutter into a "junk drawer" and call it a day. That’s technical debt.

It’s a lovely shortcut until you need a spare battery. Suddenly, you’re digging through old receipts and tangled string just to do one simple task.

In software, every "quick" fix is a loan. Eventually, the interest gets so high you spend all your time cleaning old messes instead of building new things. It’s a right faff.

Why on earth wouldn't you just tidy up as you go along?

Oh, darling, because the "guests"—your customers—are already at the front door ringing the bell! In the digital world, there is a relentless rush to show off a shiny new feature before the neighbor does.

Stopping to organize that junk drawer feels like wasting time when you could be putting out fancy doilies. Managers often care much more about how the living room looks for the party than the chaos hidden in the kitchen cupboards.

It’s the classic trap of "speed now, suffer later." We tell ourselves we’ll come back and fix it next weekend, but next weekend never comes because there’s always a new party to host. It's a proper muddle.

Wait, what happens when that junk drawer finally gets too full to shut?

Spot on, dear. Eventually, you try to shove one more menu in and the drawer jams. In tech, this is "bankruptcy." The code becomes so tangled that adding a simple button takes weeks because you're terrified of breaking the hidden machinery.

It’s like trying to bake when the oven is full of old newspapers. You spend all your energy fighting the mess, and the "guests" leave because the promised treats never arrive.

You end up having to throw the whole dresser out and start over. It’s a massive, expensive palaver that a bit of daily dusting would have prevented.

But wouldn't hiring more people help clear the mess faster?

Oh, you'd think so! But imagine your kitchen is a disaster zone. If I send in five more people, they’ll just be tripping over each other's feet.

In the trade, adding more people to a late project just makes it later. Newcomers need to be shown where the tea towels are, so the experts have to stop working to explain the chaos.

It’s like trying to change into your swimsuit in a tiny beach hut. More people just means more elbows in faces and no one actually getting to the water. It's a proper faff.

So if more people are a disaster, how do you ever finish on time?

You have to stop the bleeding, darling. Instead of inviting more guests, you stop serving appetizers and start scrubbing the kitchen floor.

In the trade, we call this 'paying down the debt.' You stop building fancy new features—those doilies I mentioned—and spend time untangling the code. It feels like standing still, but it’s the only way to get moving again.

Sometimes, you just have to simplify. If the beach hut is too small, you leave the inflatable flamingo at home. No more faff.