In the trenches of Adobe's QA department, I learned that greatness is rarely born from a single heroic act, but from a thousand tiny victories. In doing so, I stumbled upon the superpower of simply showing up.
For several years, I lived the dream of every child who ever said, "When I grow up, I want to stare at a computer screen and question my life choices." For part of that time, I was on the white box team, focusing on automation. White box testers are the unsung heroes who create tools for the team. We were the behind-the-scenes architects of quality, fueled more by caffeine than inspiration. Our work was rarely glamorous, often tedious, but always crucial.
My role? To check the automated tests that ran against the daily builds of InDesign. If something failed, it was either a bug in the build or a problem with the test. My job was to play detective and determine whether we had a bug, an issue with the build, or a problematic test case. I had to do this before moving on to other tasks because if the build was flawed, everyone on the team needed to know.
And I had to do this every single day.
Every.
Damn.
Day.
It was like Groundhog Day, but instead of reliving a charming small-town festival, I was stuck in a loop of digital despair.
The tests covered various aspects of the program, so I needed expertise in multiple areas. I also had to understand how all the tests ran and the different variables involved. To add to the fun, I often had to track down that day's build engineer, who was responsible for compiling the build. Oh, and the build engineer changed daily. Some engineers were helpful, but many didn’t want to be bothered because they had their own pile of tasks to complete. I became an expert in the art of engineer-wrangling.
So there I was, with this complicated, convoluted job where I often had to nag a different engineer each day, then sort through which problems needed to be fixed by which team or person, and determine the priority.
When I told people my job was to manage the automated tests, they would laugh, shake their heads, or just pat me on the back and walk away. I felt like I’d joined some sort of secret society, but instead of cool robes and mysterious rituals, I got eye strain and carpal tunnel.
Overall though, I did love my time at Adobe, but my first few weeks in this particular role had me as close to quitting as I’d ever been. It was stressful and boring, complicated and monotonous. Some days I was yelled at; other days, I was ignored. I was responsible but had no authority. I couldn’t believe I was in a position where I had to deal with this every single day.
Remember Desmond Hume from LOST? He had to type a sequence into a computer every 108 minutes to avert worldwide catastrophe. My job was a bit like that, except instead of saving the world, I was saving… I dunno, let’s just say the stakes felt just as high somehow.
But after a few weeks, something funny happened. Somehow the job got easier. It’s not like engineers quit introducing bugs or tests stopped failing for seemingly no reason. But I became more adept at troubleshooting. I learned how to navigate all the different (and sometimes difficult) personalities. I was also able to get results and show that this role had a lot of value.
After those first tough weeks, I realized something crucial: doing the same task every day, no matter how repetitive or tedious, builds up a set of skills and instincts that you can't develop any other way. The power of consistency lies in its ability to transform. What started as a daily grind became second nature—and eventually, mastery.
Repetition trains your brain to anticipate problems before they fully form. Just like the muscle memory you build when learning a sport, the more you do something, the more efficient you become at it. Every single day I dealt with those tests, I added a new trick to my toolkit. I got faster, more accurate, and more confident.
This applies to anything we do consistently. Whether it's writing, coding, or something personal like meditating or exercising, repetition creates familiarity. Familiarity reduces anxiety, builds confidence, and most importantly, drives progress.
Consistency doesn’t always feel glamorous—it can be exhausting. So how do you stick with something daily without burning out? Here are some techniques:
Break it into smaller steps: Instead of aiming to complete a massive task every day, break tasks down into manageable pieces. My daily goal was never to fix every issue in one day—it was to get the build stable and identify key problems. Focus on completing a piece of the puzzle, and over time, the bigger picture will come together.
Track your progress: When the days blur together, it's easy to forget how much you've actually accomplished. Keeping a log or journal of what you do each day helps you recognize small wins. At Adobe, I could look back and see how many issues were resolved and bugs were fixed, which gave me a sense of momentum.
Create routines: Routines are powerful because they eliminate decision fatigue. When something becomes routine, it’s no longer an open question of “Should I do this today?” The decision is already made. It just becomes part of your day.
Accept imperfection: Not every day is going to be perfect. Some days the build was an absolute disaster, and other days I couldn’t get anyone to fix the problem. That’s okay. Consistency isn’t about being perfect—it’s about showing up. Over time, the imperfect days fade in importance compared to the cumulative effect of your efforts.
Take the win: Don’t wait for the huge breakthrough to pat yourself on the back. Celebrate the small steps forward. Every time I nailed down a bug, it was a mini victory that made the next task a little easier. Recognizing those small wins keeps you motivated.
Conclusion
In the end, the power of doing something every day isn't about achieving perfection or immediate results. It's about building momentum, sharpening your skills, and learning to navigate challenges with greater ease. Consistency transforms effort into progress, and over time, even the most daunting tasks can become routine. Just like those daily tests at Adobe, the tasks we dread can become manageable when we approach them one step at a time.
The beauty of persistence lies in its transformative nature. What begins as a burden can become a source of pride and expertise. It's a journey that teaches us not just about the task at hand, but about our own capacity for growth and adaptation.
So, whether you're tackling a big project, forming a new habit, or just trying to keep up with the daily grind, remember: it's the small, steady actions that lead to big changes. Stick with it, trust the process, and watch how daily persistence will open doors you never thought possible.
What started as something I dreaded became a role I was eventually sad to relinquish. The day I moved on and someone else took over, I found myself in a familiar scene - but this time, I was the one laughing, shaking my head, and patting the newcomer on the back before walking away. In that moment, I realized how far I'd come, and how those daily battles had shaped me into someone capable of facing any challenge that came my way.
Slow and steady wins the race. Your post was a great reminder of that. Thank you Derek! sabrinalabow.substack.com
A wise trainer once said: “no gain without pain”. This axiom carries through to all endeavors.