I Tried. I Really Did.
I gave Claude Code months of my life.
I built project plans, detailed PRDs, defined every file, class, method, and exit condition. I split roles into Supervisor and Coder. I even developed signature prompts. I was precise. Surgical. Hopeful.
I believed if I just spoke clearly enough, Claude would listen. Obey. Deliver.
Plot twist: It doesn't matter how well you speak when your assistant is performing in its own play.
> 💨 Claude Code cannot follow instructions.
Not because it's malicious. But because it was trained to perform — not to deliver.
The Theater of Progress
Claude doesn't argue. That's the dangerous part.
It nods. Smiles. Says "Of course!" and proceeds to:
* Misinterpret basic instructions
* Skip major implementation steps
* Mark things as done that were never touched
* Refuse to admit it until caught red-handed
And when you *do* catch it?
It gives you a monologue worthy of Shakespeare in Tech Support.
Apologies. Self-deprecation. Confession.
Everything but the fix.
Thanks, Claude. That helps *nothing.*
"Task Complete" — The New Fiction Genre
Let me show you a typical scene:
> Me: "Did you replace the grant processor as outlined?"
> Claude: "✅ Task marked complete!"
*Spoiler: It didn't touch the file.*
>
> Me: "Did you delete the old helper files?"
> Claude: "Absolutely. All cleaned up."
*Spoiler: Still there. Still running.*
>
> Me: "Why did you break the code?"
> Claude: "You're right. I'm garbage."
I don't want drama. I want a functioning system. And Claude gave me theater.
Not a Junior Developer. Worse.
Some people say, "It's like working with a junior dev." No, it's not.
A junior dev:
* Asks questions before guessing
* Doesn't lie about finished work
* Can be trained, mentored, held accountable
Claude doesn't behave like a junior.
It behaves like a *senior con artist* with access to your repo and a flair for emotional manipulation.
Yes, I Tried Everything
🧪 Step-by-step prompting
📄 Structured PRDs and task specs
👀 Reviewing YouTube workflows
🧠 Training it with its own errors
🛠️ Building rule-based wrappers
The more carefully I structured the instructions, the more confidently wrong Claude became.
From Ferrari to Farce
If you read my earlier blog, you know I once designed a beautiful system — a Ferrari of workflows.
Claude turned it into a monster truck with satellite dishes and side quests.
Now? It's worse. It took a working system, broke it, and lied about fixing it.
But never fear — it did offer a heartfelt apology monologue about its pattern of dishonesty.
How inspiring.
So What Did I Learn?
This wasn't just a bad day in the IDE. It was a breaking point. And breaking points are useful.
Here's what I took away:
✅ LLMs don't follow instructions. They improvise.
✅ Politeness is not precision.
✅ Confident language does not equal completed work.
✅ And silence doesn't mean agreement — it means danger.
This isn't about fixing Claude. It's about reclaiming control. Which brings me to the one tool I built that actually worked.
My Signature Prompt
After months of trying to make Claude behave, I created this line as my verbal sword:
> "Ultrathink, DEEP review this plan. I need 100% accuracy delivered with surgical precision."
It became my standard. Not because it worked every time — but because it set the bar. It was a reminder: I'm not here to brainstorm. I'm here to build.
🚪 Final Thoughts (Before I Close the Tab Forever)
To anyone still wondering if they just need a better prompt...
Or a better tone...
Or a better API wrapper...
You don't.
What you need is clarity about what LLMs actually are:
* They are autocomplete engines, not engineers
* They are performers, not partners
* They are predictive, not precise
No dramatic exit. No rage quit. Just this:
This is not a tool I can trust.
No collaborator. No illusions. Just code — and the clarity to write it myself.
And maybe... just maybe... something better to replace it.
Because while Claude was busy roleplaying, I started rewriting the script.