Final Version
I feel like I’m playing Whack-a-Mole with documents that multiply faster than gremlins in a rainstorm whenever I work on documents collaboratively with others. You open what you swear is the latest draft, only to realize you’ve been editing an old version for an hour. The naming conventions? A tragic comedy of “final” turning into “FINAL_revised” morphing into “FINAL_revised_ACTUAL” or 16 versions of final with different people’s names on it. You have no idea which one to choose. Maybe I should go by the last modified date, but what if that version is one that management rejected. It’s like Groundhog Day, but with more frustration and fewer Bill Murray charm points.
When you finally locate the correct version, it’s buried under 17 identical-looking files, each claiming to be the “latest”—like a nest of Russian dolls where every doll is lying. And don’t get me started on the collaboration part, where your teammate’s idea of version control is emailing you a file named Untitled23 with the body “here u go.”
Pro tip: If your folder looks like a crime scene of conflicting edits, it’s time to admit defeat and just start over. Or, you know, finally learn how Git works.
Naming files shouldn’t require a Nobel Prize in mind reading. But until we all agree on literally any system, may the odds be ever in your favor.

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