When I worked inside large corporations, the landscape felt strangely uniform. No matter where I went—different buildings, new badges, new bosses—the fundamentals remained the same. The codebases changed, the acronyms multiplied, but the underlying rhythm of work was identical. And at the heart of that rhythm was one tool that everyone simply had to know: Git.

Git wasn’t optional. It was oxygen. If you couldn’t clone a repo, branch your work, and push a pull request, you couldn’t function. The system was invisible yet absolute. Every release, every merge, every rollback, every postmortem—Git sat quietly behind it all. For years, I lived inside this machine, learning its quirks, memorizing its patterns, and assuming that everyone in the technical world did the same.

That assumption didn’t last.

When I stepped outside corporate walls, I began meeting professionals from every corner of the digital ecosystem—cloud architects, Oracle specialists, .NET developers, data analysts, system administrators. They were talented, sharp, and deeply technical. But many had never touched Git. Some had barely heard of it. For them, version control was still a shared drive, a folder named “Final_v3,” or a spreadsheet tracking changes manually.

That revelation stopped me cold. How could one of the most transformative tools in software remain unknown to so many technical people? And what does that say about how knowledge spreads—or doesn’t—across professional boundaries?

Git isn’t just a developer’s utility. It’s a philosophy of traceable evolution. Every change is recorded, every experiment preserved. You can rewind time, compare realities, merge divergent futures. It is the closest thing to time travel most engineers ever experience. But what makes Git powerful isn’t the commands—it’s the mindset. Once you’ve lived inside a world where every idea is reversible and every mistake recoverable, it changes how you think about risk.

That mindset could revolutionize far more than software.

Think about how many fields rely on collaboration: marketing teams revising campaigns, data scientists tuning models, compliance teams editing policies, designers experimenting with layouts. All of them wrestle with versioning. Files get lost. Work overwrites work. History disappears. There’s no shared understanding of how something became what it is.

In Git, nothing is lost. Every commit is a breadcrumb back to origin. It’s the map of how things became true.

That’s why Git deserves attention beyond developers. It represents a universal model for managing change. It’s a structured record of human creativity and correction. It’s accountability encoded as workflow. And yet, most organizations don’t even realize they’re reinventing the same ideas every day—poorly—without version control.

Inside software, Git’s influence has become so natural that we barely notice it anymore. But that quiet ubiquity is exactly what makes it profound. It has given entire industries a way to collaborate asynchronously across time zones, cultures, and organizations without chaos. It’s the silent scaffolding of global engineering.

When I meet non-developers now, I sometimes describe Git not as software, but as a way of thinking. It’s about order and safety. It’s about the ability to experiment without fear. And it’s about recognizing that change is not a problem to avoid but a process to capture.

Version control is the invisible infrastructure of progress. Once you understand that, you start seeing its potential everywhere.

Jorge Luis de la Torre — I put the C in GRC. I bring compliance to the table.