Note: This article describes the standard FogBugz bug tracking workflow. If you'd like to modify it, or create your own workflow, you can use the Workflow Plugin.
The easiest way to understand bug tracking is to follow a bug around, for the purpose of illustration, from the moment it's born until someone finally puts it out of its misery. We'll follow the famous Bug 14. Here's what FogBugz shows for that bug:
Here's what happened.
Mikey the Programmer is hacking away on the new FTP client feature of his groovy Macintosh software. At some point, because he's feeling frisky, he writes his own string-copy function. That'll teach them pesky reusability police! Bwa ha ha!
Bad things happen when you don't reuse code, Mikey. And today, the bad thing that happened was that Mikey forgot to null-terminate the copied string. But he never noticed the problem because most of the time he happened to be copying strings into pre-zeroed memory.
Later that week, Jill the Very, Very Good Tester is banging away at the code, rolling her forehead back and forth on the keyboard or some equally cruel test. (Incidentally, most good testers are named Jill, or some variation like Gillian.) Suddenly something very strange happens: the ftp daemon she was testing against crashed. Yes, I know it's a Linux machine and Linux machines never crash (no snorting sounds from the slashdot crowd, please) but this dang thing crashed. And she wasn't even touching the server, she was just FTPing files to it using Mikey's Mac code.
Now, Jill is a very, very good tester, so she's kept a careful log of what she was doing (the precise pitch and yaw of her head as she rolled it on the keyboard is in her lab book, for example). She reboots everything, starts with a clean machine, repeats the steps, and -- Lo and Behold -- it happens again! The Linux ftp daemon crashed again! That's twice in one day, now! Take that, Linus.
Jill squints at the list of repro steps. There are about twenty steps. Some of them don't seem related. After a bit of experimentation, Jill is able to whittle the problem down to four steps that always cause the same behavior. Now she's ready to file a bug.
Jill enters the new bug in the bug tracking database. Now, just the act of entering a bug requires some discipline: there are good bug reports and bad bug reports.
And the Lord spake, saying, "First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then, shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shalt be three. Four shalt thou not count, nor either count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thou foe, who being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it."
— Monty Python and the Holy Grail
It's pretty easy to remember the rule for a good bug report. Every good bug report needs exactly three things.
Seems easy, right? Maybe not. As a programmer, people regularly assign me bugs where they left out one piece or another.
If you don't tell me how to repro the bug, I probably will have no idea what you are talking about. "The program crashed and left a smelly turd-like object on the desk." That's nice, honey. I can't do anything about it unless you tell me what you were doing. Now, I admit that there are two cases where it's hard to get exact steps to repro. Sometimes you just don't remember, or you're just transcribing a bug from "the field." (By the way, why do they call it "the field"? Is it, like, a field of rye or something? Anyway...) The other time it's OK not to have repro steps is when the bug happens sometimes but not all the time, but you should still provide repro steps, with a little annotation that says that it doesn't happen too often. In these cases, it's going to be really hard to find the bug, but we can try.
If you don't specify what you expected to see, I may not understand why this is a bug. The splash screen has blood on it. So what? I cut my fingers when I was coding it. What did you expect? Ah, you say that the spec required no blood! Now I understand why you consider this a bug.
Part three. What you saw instead. If you don't tell me this, I don't know what the bug is. That one is kind of obvious.
Anyhoo. Jill enters the bug. In a good bug tracking system it gets automatically assigned to the lead developer for that project. And therein lies the second concept: every bug needs to be assigned to exactly one person at all times, until it is closed. A bug is like a hot potato: when it's assigned to you, you are responsible to resolve it, somehow, or assign it to someone else.
Willie, the lead developer, looks at the bug, decides it's probably something to do with the ftp server, and resolves it as "won't fix." After all, they didn't write the ftp server.
When a bug is resolved, it gets assigned back to the person who opened it. This is a crucial point. It does not go away just because a programmer thinks it should. The golden rule is that only the person who opened the bug can close the bug. The programmer can resolve the bug, meaning, "hey, I think this is done," but to actually close the bug and get it off the books, the original person who opened it needs to confirm that it was actually fixed or agree that it shouldn't be fixed for some reason.
Jill gets an email telling her that the bug is back in her court. She looks at it and reads Willie the Lead Developer's comments. Something doesn't sound right. People have been using this ftp server for years and it doesn't crash. It only crashes when you use Mikey's code. So Jill reactivates the bug explaining her position, and the bug goes back to Willie. This time Willie assigns the bug to Mikey to fix.
Mikey studies the bug, thinks long and hard, and completely misdiagnoses the bug. He fixes some altogether different bug, and then resolves the one Jill opened.
The bug is back to Jill, this time marked "RESOLVED-FIXED". Jill tries her repro steps with the latest build, and, lo and behold, the Linux server crashes. She reactivates the bug again and assigns it straight back to Mikey.
Mikey is perplexed, but he finally tracks down the source of the bug. (Know what it is yet? I'll leave it as an exercise to the reader. I've given you enough clues!) He fixes it, tests it, and -- Eureka! The repro case no longer crashes the ftp server. Once again, he resolves it as FIXED. Jill also tries the repro steps, discovers that the bug is good 'n' fixed, and closes it out.
The story of every bug is a variation on this theme: