Why I Stopped Judging Legacy Code (Right Away)

When you join a company with legacy code, it’s easy to feel like you’ve stepped into a puzzle with half the pieces missing. At first, so much of it doesn’t make sense – strange design choices, outdated patterns, workarounds that defy logic. Your instinct kicks in: you think you know better. You see opportunities for improvement everywhere and want to dive in, refactoring hammer in hand, ready to fix it all.

But here’s the catch: you don’t know the story behind the code yet. That tangled mess you’re itching to rewrite? It might’ve been a brilliant solution to a problem you haven’t encountered. The historical context – why decisions were made, what constraints the team faced, what trade-offs were chosen – isn’t immediately obvious. Jumping in too fast risks breaking something critical or alienating the people who’ve lived with it longer than you have.

So, my approach has shifted. Step one isn’t to change everything – it’s to build trust. Trust with the team, trust in the system (warts and all), and trust in my own understanding as it grows. I start by observing, asking questions, and listening more than I speak. I keep a running list of things that confuse me or seem off – those weird functions, the duct-taped integrations, the “why would anyone do it this way?” moments. But I don’t act on them right away. Instead, I revisit that list regularly, cross-referencing it with what I learn over time. Some of those quirks start to make sense, others become clearer candidates for improvement.

Legacy code isn’t just a technical challenge – it’s a lesson in patience and perspective. You don’t have to love it, but you do have to respect it, at least until you’ve earned the right to reshape it. In my career, I’ve joined enough companies with legacy code to build some resilience – and, honestly, a bit of empathy too. What once felt like pulling my hair out and wanting to give up has become a familiar challenge I’ve learned to navigate.