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The Day I Hired Myself

To Fix My Own Damn Website

There comes a moment in every woman’s life when she realizes that the people who built the software she relies on were absolutely not breastfed long enough.

Mine arrived somewhere between the sixth 404 error, the third phantom paywall from WordPress-but-not-WordPress, and the part where SaaS monster tried to convince me I needed to “activate” something I’d already been paying for. I stared at the screen like it had just asked me to donate a kidney — or worse, asked me to file taxes in ancient Sumerian.

That’s when it hit me: Great. Now I have to hire me to pay me to fix me problem.

I have officially become both the worker… and the supervisor… and the one who has to file the HR complaints against myself.

I hired me to fix me problem.

Not on purpose.
Just out of pure, porch-born survival instinct.

The Two-Site Monster I Somehow Built While Screaming

I didn’t “accidentally” create a dual-site ecosystem.
I constructed it the way people build boats while drowning — with whatever debris floats.

This SaaS monster promised me “full customization,” which in their language means:

“You may choose between these three fonts and another three fonts that look like the first three fonts wearing different socks, or angrier. Whichever comes first.”

Let’s name this monster Jerry.

Illustration of a smug woman with a bun and glasses holding a coffee mug while a scruffy goblin-like creature points at a laptop screen covered in “DIV” labels and holds a bottle; a tool bucket labeled “TOOLS” and a note reading “STOP DRINKING JERRY” sit beside the desk; a roll of duct tape is on the floor. Created by ACFA Creative House.

Sometimes the bug isn’t the code.
Sometimes it’s Jerry.

They promised me the moon, sun, and stars.
It handed me a coconut husk and said, “close enough.”

So of course I spun up a WordPress blog.
I needed a place where words could exist without suffering.

Meanwhile Jerry sat in the corner like a drunk uncle insisting, “I can build a website,” while dragging divs around like wet cardboard.

Thus appeared my two sites:

  • The Website (Jerry): A coconut husk that somehow holds water, if you don’t look directly at it.
  • The Blog (WordPress): My sanctuary, my temple, my “oh thank God something works” domain.

And naturally, the two refused to talk to each other unless supervised like toddlers with scissors.

The Moment I Realized I Was the Only Employee

Testing the site on my phone?

One link dropped me at home.
Another dropped me in 404 limbo.
Another dumped me on the main landing page like some algorithmic bouncer saying:

“No, ma’am, Gallery is closed. You may stand here.”

Meanwhile inside the blogsite, once you read an essay, you might as well file a Missing Persons report or call Paulides for a Missing 411 case, because there was no way back to the main landing page.

A perfect maze.
A beautiful, dysfunctional family of links, each doing their own thing like they were raised by wolves.

And I’m standing there, paper in hand, like the world’s angriest electrician:

“Okay, who unplugged the Gallery from the Front Porch.”

I swear at one point I saw the website look back at me like:

“You built me during a tantrum. You get what you get — and while you’re at it, I’m throwing in a couple more surprises. Serves you right for DIY’ing your sites.”

So I Hired Me

There is no customer service line for “my site is behaving like a feral possum.” There is no support ticket for “make the Jerry builder stop drinking on the job.”

So I did what any under-resourced porch philosopher would do:
I wrote my own name on a sticky note and hired myself.

As the contractor.
As the client.
As the idiot who caused the problem.
As the genius who can fix it.

Full circle.
Self-sustaining ecosystem.
The ouroboros of web development — but with more cussing.

The Aftermath

I sketched the navigation map.
I traced the links.
I fixed the return paths.
I wired the whole thing like a seasoned electrician who keeps a roll of duct tape next to her rosary beads.

And the minute the system worked, I gave myself a performance review.

It went like this:

  • Communication: Terrible. You should hear the things I said to myself.
  • Technical Skill: Adequate, fueled by rage.
  • Problem Solving: Feral, but successful.
  • Would hire again: Absolutely not.
  • Will hire again: Already did.

Because apparently I’m the only one who understands what I mean when I explain the problem — and the only one competent enough to fix it with both hands tied behind my back and a coconut husk for tools.

Final Diagnosis

This was never a tech issue.
This was a Me vs. Me vs. Jerry cage match.

And I won. Barely. But I won.

I hired myself to fix the problem I created while escaping a coconut-husk website builder courtesy of Jerry, and somehow the system works. For now.

Probably.

Feed the writing gremlin.

Buy me a coffee