The Cost of Good Intentions: Lessons from a Refactor Gone Sideways

It started with a simple feature.

Like many engineers, I try to follow the Boy Scout Rule: “Always leave the code better than you found it.” While building a new feature that relied on one of our older, core services, I noticed an opportunity for improvement. The service had clearly evolved over time, so I took the chance to make a small, focused enhancement. Rather than modifying the implementation, I tried to improve the clarity and structure of its interfaces.

Nothing major. Just reorganize a few things, rename some parameters for clarity, updated some structures etc. The goal was to improve maintainability without introducing regressions. And from a purely technical standpoint, it worked. My feature was delivered, the code was cleaner, and everything passed review.

Unexpectedly, the change introduced challenges I hadn’t anticipated.

Another team, working in parallel, was building a different feature that also depended on the same service. My well-meaning refactor had subtly changed the landscape they were relying on. What was clearer to me was now a moving target for them. Interfaces they were already integrating with had changed. Assumptions they’d made were now invalid. Coordination broke down. What should have been a straightforward integration turned into friction, blockers, and frustration.

And that got me thinking: Does the Boy Scout Rule always apply—especially in shared, core systems?

When “Better” Isn’t Better for Everyone

Refactors feel good. They satisfy our sense of order. But “better” is a loaded word. Better for whom? Better when?

In my case, “better” meant easier for me to build my feature and more maintainable for future me. But it wasn’t better for the other team working in the same area, at the same time, under different assumptions.

The core service I refactored had high gravity—many dependencies, broad surface area, and low change tolerance. Even small interface changes created ripple effects. What I thought was a surgical cleanup turned out to be more like changing the tires on a moving car… without telling the other driver.

The Real Lesson: Context Beats Cleanliness

The Boy Scout Rule is a helpful guideline, but it doesn’t excuse us from thinking about the bigger picture. In shared or important systems, cleaning up the code might create more problems in the long run than it solves in the short term.

Here’s what I took away from the experience:

• Refactoring is a team sport. Just because something looks safe in isolation doesn’t mean it’s safe in context. For shared code, changes should be socialized.

• Not all tech debt needs to be paid right now. Some debt is deliberate. Some is annoying but harmless. Cleaning it may scratch an itch, but the benefits must outweigh the effort required for coordination.

• Local optimizations can create global friction. Especially in core services, it’s better to extend without breaking, to deprecate gracefully, and to give teams time to adapt.

• Don’t confuse “code smell” with “code danger.” Just because something feels messy doesn’t mean it’s wrong to leave it that way—for now.

What I’d Do Differently Next Time

If I found myself in the same situation again, I’d pause and ask:

• Who else depends on this code?
• Can this change be made in a backwards-compatible way?
• Should this cleanup be done separately from the feature?
• Is now the right time to do this, or should it be proposed as a coordinated refactor?

Sometimes, the cleanest code is the one that’s left untouched—until the timing is right.

Wrapping Up

Engineering isn’t just about writing good code, it’s about making good decisions in context. The Boy Scout Rule still holds value, but like any rule, it’s most powerful when applied with judgment.

In this case, my intentions were good. The outcome? A bit sideways. But the lesson? Invaluable.