Where database blog posts get flame-broiled to perfection
Oh, how wonderful. A ādetailed accountā of the outage. Let me just grab my coffee and settle in for this corporate bedtime story. Iām sure itās a riveting tale of synergistic resilience failures and a paradigm-shifting learning opportunity. Itās always a ālearning opportunityā when itās my money burning, isnāt it? Funny how that works.
They start with a sincere-sounding apology for the āinconvenience.ā Inconvenience? Our entire e-commerce platform was a smoking crater for six hours. Thatās not an inconvenience; thatās six hours of seven-figure revenue flushed directly down a non-redundant, single-point-of-failure toilet. My Q1 forecast just shed a tear.
But my favorite part is always the "What We Are Doing" section. It's never just "we fixed the bug." Oh no, that would be far too simple and, more importantly, free. Instead, itās a beautifully crafted upsell disguised as a solution. They talk about their new Geo-Resilient Hyper-Availability Zoneā¢, which, by a shocking coincidence, is only available on their new Enterprise-Ultra-Mega-Premium tier. For a nominal fee, of course.
Letās do some quick math on the back of this now-useless P.O., shall we? I seem to recall the sales pitch. It was a masterpiece of financial fiction. They promised a predictable, all-in cost that would revolutionize our TCO.
Let's calculate the real cost of this "revolutionary" database, what I like to call the Goldman Standard Cost of Regret.
So, the "predictable" $500,000 annual cost is actually $1.675 million for the first year, and a cool $1 million every year after that. And for what? So I can read a blog post explaining how theyāre ādoubling down on operational excellence.ā
They had a chart in their sales deck, I remember it vividly. It had an arrow labeled "5x ROI" shooting up to the moon. My back-of-the-napkin math shows an ROI of approximately negative 200%. At this rate, their "solution" will bankrupt the company by Q3 of next year. It's a bold strategy for customer retention, I'll give them that. You can't churn if your business no longer exists.
We are committed to rebuilding the trust we may have eroded.
You didnāt erode my trust. You took it out behind the woodshed, charged me for the ammunition, and then sent me a bill for the cleanup. The only thing you're "rebuilding" is a more expensive prison of vendor lock-in, brick by proprietary brick.
Bless their hearts for trying. Anyway, Iām forwarding this post-mortem to legal and adding their blog's domain to my firewall. Not for security, mind you, but for the preservation of my fiscal sanity.