$ cat post/uptime-of-nine-years-/-we-named-the-server-badly-then-/-the-pipeline-knows.md

uptime of nine years / we named the server badly then / the pipeline knows


Title: Kubernetes Clustering Blues


So, September 24, 2018. A date that feels like it was yesterday but in a way that’s more like something I’d see on a TV show set in the future. The container wars were raging and, for us here at the office, it felt like Kubernetes had emerged victorious. Helm and Istio were making their splash, Envoy was getting ready to serve traffic, and serverless was still just a buzzword. Platform engineering conversations were starting to percolate, but GitOps was still in its infancy.

Our team was tasked with setting up our company’s first production-grade Kubernetes cluster. We had the tech stack: Minikube for local development, kubeadm for cluster deployment, and a sprinkle of Helm charts for the actual deployments. The goal? To get our monolithic app into containerized form as quickly as possible.

We started small—just a couple of nodes to test things out. But oh boy, did we run into problems. The first node went smoothly enough, but adding the second one was a nightmare. kubeadm was finicky and kept spitting out errors about network connectivity issues. I spent days trying to get it right, reading forums, digging through GitHub Issues, and finally figuring out that it had something to do with our firewall rules.

But hey, two nodes down, just 98 more to go, right? (Metaphorically speaking.) Then came the deployment of our app. We used a Helm chart for this, which seemed like a good idea at the time. But oh boy, did it turn into a monster. It took us over a week to get everything set up just right. One day, the cluster was happy and everything was going smoothly. The next? Our logs were spewing errors about missing dependencies.

I remember spending long nights trying to debug why our app kept failing to start on some nodes but not others. I’d SSH into each node one by one, tailing the logs until my eyes crossed, only to find out that the issue was always the same: a missing library or a version mismatch. After a few days of this, I finally got sick and tired of it. “If this is how containerization is supposed to work, we’re in for a long ride,” I thought.

Then came the talk about Istio. Some of my colleagues were all abuzz about how it would make our lives easier. “Why not just use Istio from the start?” they argued. “It’s meant to simplify service mesh and traffic management.” But then again, we had a working (albeit fragile) setup with Helm and kubeadm. Adding another layer of complexity seemed like overkill.

The debate raged on for weeks. Should we stick with what worked but was a pain, or go all in on the new kid on the block that promised to make our lives easier? In the end, I decided to stay conservative—after all, there’s nothing worse than having a production outage because you rushed into using a shiny new tool.

In retrospect, it was probably the right call. We didn’t get everything perfect, but we got through those early Kubernetes kinks and learned a lot about what works best for us. Today, as I look back at that time, I remember the frustration but also the excitement of being part of something that was shaping the future.


That’s my take on September 24, 2018. A day in the life of setting up Kubernetes clusters and wrestling with the complexities of containerized environments. If only I had a time machine to go back and tell myself to document all this mess—I might have been more patient during those long nights.

Until next time, Brandon