The agony is finally over, and our boring white walls have officially joined the “vibe” that befits the people who inhabit this office. We came dangerously close to having our walls decorated with QR codes generated by the new Check-In app our sysadmin Dule pulled out of his sleeve, but he stopped that from happening with a few lightning-fast “day-one patches” — leaving all those long, carefully planned, ultimately unsuccessful development cycles looking rather silly in comparison.

So, dear colleagues, checking in, reporting absences, coding in your underwear, or showing up without makeup is now much easier — one or two clicks and voilà, you’re done. No wonder the colleague mentioned above is one of the favorites for Employee of the Year, or so the rumors floating around the office say.

After some extensive investigation involving the drilling of various walls, our colleague Milica discovered that the wall in the management area is, in fact, a proper wall and not just some flimsy drywall. So, if Baki happens to pee on it, the moisture could spread across the magnificent carpet and even make its way into the open-plan area — and that definitely wouldn’t go well with the office makeover we’ve just had.

Once again this year, our male colleagues have been deprived of the chance to celebrate International Men’s Day. Not a flower, not a mention, not even a box of chocolates. What can we say?

Our office has once again welcomed a new batch of interns — young students who dropped by hoping to learn a thing or two from their older, long-haired colleagues. Although, judging by how things are going, maybe we’re the ones who should get haircuts and learn something from them.

And so, after countless standstills at pedestrian crossings and intersections, and a few unpleasant encounters with grandpas driving Zastava 10s, the end of this month took some of us to a traditional pig slaughtering. In a time-honored ritual involving the waving of sharpened yataghans straight out of the collectivist era, suburban residents and those returning to their village roots came together to prepare all kinds of cured and smoked goodies for the year ahead. The undisputed star, of course, was bacon — pancetta, to be more precise.

In a fitting twist, this year’s New Year’s party was scheduled at Pančeta, Njegoševa Pančeta. Not prosciutto, but pancetta. But… 

IT Engine wouldn’t be IT Engine if, at moments like these, a veil of uncertainty didn’t descend upon us. Just as the rain recently kept us from enjoying Fruška Gora, or that time when we traveled through the darkness of Bosnia for what felt like an eternity, fearing for our fragile existence, so too now, just a few hours before the party was due to begin, the authorities — believe it or not — shut down that very Pančeta, once again casting us into the wilderness of uncertainty.

We didn’t have time to get into the details of why it happened, because our colleague, fortified by a healthy dose of bromazepam, sprang into action and solved the problem in lightning speed, moving the party to a neighboring venue.

The drinks were mixed again, the food was mixed too, and even a former colleague made an appearance, just like last time. The vibe was great, partly because, thanks to the circumstances described above, we somehow ended up crashing a year-end gathering of a bunch of water polo players.

There were fewer of us, and on average we were considerably shorter than these seasoned veterans of the pool. Still, we have to thank them for making us look, on average, considerably younger than we actually are.

Naturally, that temporary burst of youthfulness led us straight back to Laza Telečkog… We didn’t end up at Mita’s, but we did make it to Carska Kafana. This place exists in some kind of temporal goulash of its own. We got to see two DJs, who, naturally, played everything from Silvana to Nirvana — strictly in ten-second snippets — while occasionally shouting things into the microphone with that trademark echo, like someone seeing off a conscript under a tent in 1992.

The age range of the clientele seemed to stretch from Pioneer Scouts to the lactose-intolerant, and as the night wore on, the rising alcohol levels naturally pushed the already fairly high levels of primitive behavior even higher. By closing time, sparks were literally flying at the door.

Don’t worry, though. Our heads are still in the code even when the alcohol level goes up. We just throw an exception and gracefully crash out, so everyone made it home in one piece.

The end of the year traditionally comes with the uncertainty surrounding the Employee of the Year election. This one has been somewhat more controversial than previous years. For one thing, the campaigns got off to a very late start, so most colleagues didn’t even bother with lobbying or hallway debates. Those who did, however, can safely be said to have seriously violated the pre-election silence.

There were calls for the arrest of a certain towering candidate, public call-outs, and even the fake withdrawal of nominees. The irregularities were further compounded by the fact that voting ended a full month before the results were announced, leaving all of us anxiously waiting for this very day.

You’ll agree, this is highly suspicious and hardly befitting a democratic workplace like ours. The consequences could be significant.

There’s not much news on the sports front. Hexball and table tennis are still going strong, and we’re apparently waiting for that final working day to break the monotony with a game of CS 1.6.

We also recently held our traditional event for employees’ children. That Saturday afternoon, the basement of our office was filled with the smiles, squeals, and shrieks of excited kids — along with those of a certain Slavica, who is exceptionally good at entertaining the little ones.

The basement has officially become too small. By our very scientific estimate, IT Engine probably has more children per employee than anyone else in the region.

And just like that, here we are in 2025. Who would have thought? Half a decade is already behind us, and many of us can no longer claim to be young adults, instead hurtling inexorably toward geriatrics as the shadow of retirement slowly looms over us.

It’s a beautiful winter outside, at least. I wish you all a chance to rest, enjoy the holidays, and welcome ’25 in peace — because, let’s be honest, it HAS to be better than this one.