Garden-path incidents

Barb’s story

It’s 12 noon on a Minneapolis Wednesday, which means Barb can be found at Quang. As the waiter sets down Barb’s usual order (#307, the Bun Chay, extra spicy), Barb’s nostrils catch the heavenly aroma of peanuts and scallions and red chiles. A wave of calm moves through her. Barb pulls her chair forward, cracks apart her wooden chopsticks, and…her pager goes off.

After cursing under her breath, she dutifully reads the message:

Error rate for `environment:production' exceeds 100 msg/s

Welp.

Barb grabs one quick bite of spring roll as she flags down the waiter for a to-go box. Opening Slack on her phone, she declares an incident, joins the Zoom call, and hurries back up Nicollet Ave. and around the corner, toward her apartment.

Five minutes later, finally sitting at her laptop, Barb is pretty sure she knows what the problem is. The error flooding the logs is:

object 'nil' has no method 'reimport!'

That looks like a straightforward app bug to her, and wouldn’t you know it? Right before these errors started cropping up, there was a deploy to the Rails app by a newish dev named Alice, who according to her Slack profile, is based in Seattle. Barb asks this ‘Alice’ to join the incident Zoom.

– Hi, this is Alice. What’d I do?
– Thanks for joining, Alice. I’m incident commander for this spike of production errors. It looks like you deployed a change at 17:46 UTC and a bunch of errors started happening. Can you revert that change please?
– Sure, no problem. I’ll put together the revert PR now.

5 minutes later, Alice’s PR is approved. Alice click’s “Merge.” The pair begin the anxious but familiar 15-minute wait for CI to pass, all the while greeting and informing the bewildered latecomers who straggle into the call. 

Alice’s story

Alice stares blankly at the white rectangle on her monitor. She spent her first hour getting yesterday’s frontend bugfixes pushed out, and now it’s time to start her PowerPoint. She’ll be working on this PowerPoint for the rest of the morning, probably through lunch, and all afternoon.

Alice shuts her eyes and heaves a dismal sigh. Alice fucking hates PowerPoint. But she can’t put it off anymore. So she dons her headphones, cracks her knuckles,, and… gets an urgent Slack message:

Morning, Alice – we’ve got a production incident involving a spike of errors, and it looks like it coincides with a deploy of yours. Can you jump on https://zoom.globocorp.co/z/123456789… when you have a moment please?

As she waits for Zoom to load, Alice feels something almost like relief. At least she doesn’t have to work on that goddamn PowerPoint yet.

– Hi, this is Alice. What’d I do?
– Thanks for joining, Alice. I’m incident commander for this spike of production errors. It looks like you deployed a change at 16:46 UTC and a bunch of errors started happening. Can you revert that change please?
– Sure, no problem. I’ll put together the revert PR now.

Alice quickly whips up that PR and gets it approved. She spends the next 15 minutes waiting for CI to pass, while absent-mindedly writing the first slide of her PowerPoint. By the time the tests are green, she has typed out and deleted 4 different titles.

The real story

This incident seems to have gone about as well as it could, considering. Alice was on the call within 7 minutes of the alert, and a PR was ready 5 minutes later. It would be great if CI were faster, or even better if CI could be skipped for a revert. They’ll talk about that at the post-mortem.

However, nobody in the call yet knows what really happened. What really happened is this:

    • Alice’s 16:46 UTC deploy was the first to pick up the latest Docker image.
    • The new Docker image includes an update to a software dependency.
    • The updated dependency has a bug that only shows up in production.

    But instead of knowing any of that, Alice and Barb are sitting here for 15 minutes waiting for CI to run, so they can deploy a fix that won’t even work.

    This is a garden-path incident. Barb has what she feels is a strong signal from the telemetry, which points toward a bug in Alice’s code. Alice has what she feels is a strong signal, which is that Barb seems very confident in her conclusion. But they’ve been led up the garden path, and as a consequence, this incident will run longer than it needs to.

    How this could all have been avoided

    Imagine instead, that Barb and Alice are both in the habit of saying their hypotheses out loud.

    When Alice joins the call, Barb instead says:

    – Thanks for joining, Alice. I’m incident commander for this spike of production errors. It looks like you deployed a change at 16:46 UTC and a bunch of errors started happening. My hypothesis is that your change triggered this spike of errors. Can you revert the change please?

    Instead of letting Alice infer that the cause of the error spike is already known to be her deploy, Barb acknowledges the limits of her certainty. She has a hypothesis, not a definitive diagnosis. This gives Alice the opportunity to respond with something like:

    – Well, are the errors from the backend or the frontend? Because my change was frontend-only.

    And just like that, Alice and Barb have stepped back from the garden path. Instead of waiting around for a useless CI cycle, they can continue straight away with diagnosis.

    Note that, even if Barb doesn’t state her hypothesis, things will still be okay as long as Alice does:

    – Hi, this is Alice. What’d I do?
    – Thanks for joining, Alice. I’m incident commander for this spike of production errors. It looks like you deployed a change at 16:46 UTC and a bunch of errors started happening. Can you revert that change please?
    – Sure, no problem. I’ll put together the revert PR now. Just to be clear, the hypothesis is that my frontend-only changeset is somehow causing these nil-has-no-method errors in the backend?
    Uh, did you say frontend-only?

    Again, Barb and Alice have gotten themselves off the garden path. Which means this technique – stating your hypothesis and asking for rule-outs – is something you can do unilaterally starting today to make your team better at troubleshooting.

    Another thing you can do to make your team better at troubleshooting is employ Clinical Troubleshooting against your next head-scratcher of a bug.

    Explaining the fire

    When your site goes down, it’s all hands on deck. A cross-functional team must assemble fast and pursue an organized response. It feels like fighting a fire. So it’s not surprising that formal IT incident management tends to borrow heavily from the discipline of firefighting.

    However, in software incident response, we have a crucial constraint that you won’t find in firefighting. Namely, in order to fix a software product, we first have to understand why it’s broken.

    When the firefighters arrive at the blazing building, they don’t need to explain the fire. They need to put it out. It doesn’t matter whether a toaster malfunctioned, or a cat knocked over a candle, or a smoker fell asleep watching The Voice. The immediate job is the same: get people to safety and put out the fire.

    But when PagerDuty blows up and we all stumble into the incident call, we need at least a vague hypothesis. Without one, we can’t even start fixing the problem. What should we do? Reboot one of the web servers? Which one? Should we revert the last deploy? Should we scale up the database? Flush the CDN? Open a support ticket with Azure? Just wait?

    We can’t act until we have at least some explanation for how the outage came about.

    Often, the process of diagnosis – of explaining the failure – takes up the majority of the incident. Diagnosis isn’t easy, especially in a group and under pressure. Important facts go ignored. Hypotheses get forgotten, or remain unchallenged in the face of new information. Action items fall through the cracks. Diagnostic disconnects like these add up to longer outages, noisier public-facing comms, and repeat failures.

    And yet, when we look to improve IT incident response, what do we usually focus on? On-call rotations, status page updates, command-and-control structure. Sliding-down-the-firepole, radioing-with-dispatch type stuff.

    In software incident response, we need to maintain a coherent diagnostic strategy in the face of scarce information and severe time pressure. This makes us, on one dimension at least, more like doctors than firefighters. This is one of the reasons that engineering teams find immense value in clinical troubleshooting. It brings rigor and transparency to the joint diagnostic effort.

    I teach clinical troubleshooting as part of Scientific Incident Response in 4 Days. Check it out.

    Incident, Inçident, Incidënt

    When you deploy broken code, it may cause an incident. Then you’ll have to declare an incident. And don’t forget to create an incident so customers can stay informed!

    “Incident” can mean a bunch of things, and these meanings are only partly distinguishable through context. When the word “incident” is used ambiguously, confusion can emerge.

    The effort to fix the problem

    In many organizations, the organizational formalism around responding to a problem is called an “incident.” For example,

    At 08:40 UTC, engineer Geordi La Forge declared an incident after observing high API latencies in production. The incident was led by Beverly Crusher, and it was resolved after 32 minutes.

    We’ll call this usage an incident-effort. An incident-effort need not correspond to an outage. You can create one for any problem on which you want multiple sets of eyes. For example, if deployment to the staging environment is borked, or if disk utilization is growing too rapidly on a database server, you might declare an incident(-effort).

    The public thread of communication

    When stakeholders need to be informed of a problem – often, these stakeholders are customers – we’re expected to “create an incident.” This kind of “incident” (let’s call it an incident-post) is usually a post on a publicly-facing website, describing the problem and the current state of the response to it.

    An incident-effort may exist without an incident-post. An incident-post may also exist without an incident-effort (for example, if an incident is used to communicate about a planned maintenance window).

    The problem itself

    An incident on the DataDog status page.

    Finally, there is the problem itself: that which is to be fixed, or communicated about.

    There are many problems that don’t merit an incident-effort, let alone an incident-post. We usually just call such problems “bugs” or “risks.”

    When someone says “We’ve had too many incidents this quarter,” they’re probably talking about problems that caused downtime. But they might be talking about incident-posts themselves, depending on how they’re looking at things. It pays to clarify.

    Never being one to shy away from an opportunity to make a Venn Diagram, I’ll leave you with a few common phrases around incident management:

    I offer incident response training or remote or on-site. Get in touch.

    Dead air on the incident call

    When troubleshooting a high-impact software failure in a group, you have to be ready for shifts in tenor. One moment there’s a frenzy of coordination, and the next: absolute silence.

    Silence is natural and often useful. But to be an effective incident commander – whose job is to keep the problem-solving effort moving forward – you must develop a keen ear for silence.

    Silence can mean different things to different people in different situations. In this post, I’ll present a few incident scenarios and explore the role of the incident commander in breaking (or simply abiding in) dead air.

    “Any minute now”

    Sylvain (from the [s]upport team) has spun up an incident call after getting 3 consecutive reports of broken CSS on the production app. You are the incident commander, and Oscar (from [o]perations) has immediately volunteered to be the primary investigator. Deanna and Deepak (software [d]evs) are also on the call.

    There’s some ambiguity about whether the CSS issue merits a status page post. Nobody has found a “smoking gun” showing that, for example, 404 errors are happening at an elevated rate. And now Oscar announces, “I’m seeing some log entries from the web server that look a little weird. I’m gonna look at those.” This is the beginning of a 5-minute silence.

    During the silence, Deanna, Deepak, and Sylvain are all waiting, hoping that these log entries that Oscar just noticed turn out to be the smoking gun. They’re putting their eggs in the basket of Oscar’s intuition. Hopefully he’s seen this issue before, and any minute now he’ll say “Okay, I’m pushing a fix.”

    The problem is, it’s equally possible that Oscar has latched onto a red herring (some salient but ultimately irrelevant observation). If there were a conversation in place of silence, then Deanna could be researching the error message, or Deepak might be able to immediately rule out the error as a cause of the broken CSS, or Sylvain could provide a detail from one of the customer tickets that would narrow the scope of the investigation. But instead, everybody’s twiddling their thumbs hoping for Oscar to emerge with a fix.

    An incident commander is responsible for keeping the whole problem-solving effort moving forward. So it’s incumbent on you to interrupt this silence.

    Try drawing more information out of Oscar:

    • “Oscar, do you mind sharing your screen so Deepak and Deanna can see the weird log messages too?”
    • “What’s the error message, Oscar? Can you send a link to a log search?”
    • “Do we know when these log events started? Does that line up with when we started receiving these support tickets, Sylvain?”

    The more we audit each other’s thought processes, the more effective we are at joint problem-solving. An IC must make this happen.

    “LGTM”

    Sylvain has spun up an incident call after getting 3 consecutive reports of broken CSS on the production website. You are the incident commander.

    Oscar has checked a bunch of graph dashboards and hasn’t found any evidence of a widespread system failure. He’s said as much. Now there’s relative silence on the call for five minutes.

    Deanna and Deepak are basically in agreement with Oscar: there’s no evidence of a system health issue. To them, and to Oscar, it’s not really clear how strong a signal Sylvain has. It could just be a coincidence that these three reports all arrived in a row. The engineers on the call are thinking, I guess we’ll keep poking at this, but we’re not even sure this is a real issue. We need more information.

    Sylvain, on the other hand, is positive that something is wrong. Getting 3 support tickets in a row about the same behavior is very strong evidence to him. He’s presented his information to the investigators, and now he’s thinking, Okay, they say it’s not a widespread issue. But I’m sure Oscar is getting to the bottom of it.

    There’s been a common ground breakdown, and as a result, a silence that becomes more and more frustrating.

    As incident commander, you should focus the group’s attention on observable symptoms by asking questions like:

    • “Has anybody been able to reproduce these broken page-loads in a browser? Preferably with Dev Tools turned on?”
    • “Sylvain, I don’t have an intuition for support ticket frequencies. How unusual is it to get 3 reports of the same thing right in a row like this?”
    • “Can we find, in the access logs, just one example of a stylesheet request that returned a non-200 response?”

    “Let’s see here…”

    Sylvain has spun up an incident call after getting 3 consecutive reports of broken CSS on the production website. You are the incident commander. The investigation has been going along, and Oscar is chasing down a hunch that a particular error message from the web server is related to the stylesheet failures. Deanna is digging into some code to help validate Oscar’s hunch.

    Deepak joins the call. There’s no chatter, as everyone is waiting for Oscar and Deanna to come up with their findings. So Deepak reads the chat scrollback, which takes him about 5 minutes. It’s not until the end of those 5 minutes that Deepak understands what Oscar and Deanna are working on.

    As it happens, Deepak has seen the web server error message in question before. He knows what it means, and he can explain why it’s a red herring. But for the 5 minutes it takes him to get up to speed by reading the chat scrollback, silence persists.

    In order to keep a problem-solving effort moving forward, an incident commander should ensure that every new participant gets up-to-date knowledge of what the group is doing and why. At small scale (less than, say, 10 people on the call), you can do this verbally. For example, you could say to Deepak when he joins the call, “Hi Deepak. Right now, Oscar and Deanna are investigating a web server error message that might be related to failed stylesheet loads. You can see the error message in the chat.”

    When there are more than 10 people, the verbal approach stops working. It becomes necessary to have a shared document of some sort, continuously updated by a “scribe.” It’s not sufficient for this document to be merely a timeline of events: it must highlight the current state of the joint diagnostic effort. I recommend clinical troubleshooting for this.

    “I need 5 minutes”

    When incident response is going right, everybody understands what’s being done by whom, and why. As information comes to light and our strategies evolve, it takes more or less constant communication to maintain this state. That’s why silence on an incident call is so often an indicator of trouble: when there’s silence, communication isn’t happening.

    There is, however, a healthy kind of dead air.

    Sometimes an investigator needs to go silent for a while to chase down a hunch, or collect some data, or research some question. As long as such a silence is negotiated in advance, with a specific time to reconvene, it can serve a crucial purpose. I call this functional dead air.

    It’s the job of the incident commander to ensure that every nontrivial silence is functional. First, communicate what’s being done by whom, and why. Only then, do it.


    I offer incident response training for engineers. Get in touch!

    Clinical troubleshooting: diagnose any production issue, fast.

    Over my career as an SRE, I’ve diagnosed thousands of production issues. When I’m lucky, I have enough information at hand, and enough expertise in the systems involved, to get to the bottom of the problem on my own. But very often I need to bring together a team.

    Troubleshooting with a team unleashes enormous power. Problems that would have taken me days to solve as an individual might take only hours or minutes, thanks to the benefit of pooled knowledge.

    However, collaborative troubleshooting also comes with dangers. Time and again, I’ve seen groups struggle to make progress on an investigation due to miscommunication, misalignment, and confusion. Among other difficulties, the fundamental common ground breakdown can have especially heinous consequences in this context.

    Over the years, I’ve developed a reliable method for harnessing the diagnostic power of groups. My approach is derived from a different field in which groups of experts with various levels of context need to reason together about problems in a complex, dynamic system: medicine.

    I call this method clinical troubleshooting.

    The clinical troubleshooting process

    Although clinical troubleshooting can be useful in solo troubleshooting, it really shines as a group activity. It’s a lightweight structure that always adds value. I recommend reaching for clinical troubleshooting as soon as you need to involve another person in any “why” question about an unexpected behavior of your system.

    Step 0: Get a group together

    Before you start, gather the people you’ll be troubleshooting with. Any synchronous communication channel can work for this: Slack, Zoom, a meeting room; you name it.

    You don’t need a big group. In fact, a small group is best. What matters most is that you bring together diverse perspectives. If you’re a backend engineer, try to pull in a network engineer and a frontend engineer, or a support agent and a sysadmin. Cast a wide net.

    Once you have an initial group, share a blank Google doc with everyone.

    Step 1: Identify symptoms

    Add a Symptoms header to the doc.

    You’re the one bringing the issue, so you must have some observations already. Write those down in a numbered list.

    It’s important that it be a numbered list rather than a bulleted list. As the troubleshooting process goes on, you’re going to want to refer to individual symptoms (and, later, hypotheses and actions). If each symptom has a number and the number never changes, this is a lot easier.

    Ask your collaborators to list symptoms, too. They may have observed some other facet of the problem, or they may think to look at a graph that you don’t know about.

    Here’s what an initial symptom list might look like:

    Symptoms

    1. About 5 times a day, the Storage API sends a spike of 503 responses. Each spike lasts about 500 milliseconds and includes between 200 and 1000 responses (about 0.1 to 0.5% of all responses sent during the interval)
    2. Outside of these spikes, the Storage API has not sent any 503 responses at all in the last 14 days.
    3. The failing requests have short durations, around the same as those of normal requests (mostly under 100 milliseconds).

    (In this and subsequent examples, don’t worry about understanding the exact technical situation. Clinical troubleshooting can be used on problems  in any part of any tech stack.)

    All the symptoms on the list should be precise and objective. In other words, if a statement is quantifiable, quantify it. Don’t make suppositions yet about why these phenomena have been observed. That comes next.

    Once you’re all on the same page about what problem you’re investigating, the initial symptom list is done.

    Step 2: Brainstorm hypotheses

    Add a Hypotheses header to the doc. Invite your colleagues to join you in suggesting hypotheses that might explain the symptoms.

    Let the ideas flow, and write them all down. This is where having a diverse set of perspectives in the room really pays off. Your co-investigators will think of hypotheses that would never have occurred to you, and vice versa. The more of these you come up with, the more likely the actual explanation will be on the list.

    A hypothesis can’t be just anything, though. A hypothesis must

    • explain (at least some of) the symptoms,
    • accord with all known facts, and
    • be falsifiable (that is: if it were false, we’d be able somehow to prove it false).

    For example, given the symptoms above, “requests to the storage API are getting queued up behind a long-running query” would not be a sound hypothesis, since it’s inconsistent with Symptom 3. If requests were queued up, we’d expect them to take longer before failing.

    After some discussion, your hypothesis list might look like this:

    Hypotheses

    1. A particular request causes an out-of-memory (OOM) event on a storage server, and all in-flight requests to that server get killed.
    2. A network hiccup causes connections between the load balancer and a storage server to be severed.
    3. Requests to the storage API are getting queued up behind a long-running query
      1. Discarded because inconsistent with Symptom 3
    4. A network hiccup causes connections between storage API servers and a persistence layer node to be severed.

    Again, use a numbered list. If a hypothesis is ruled out or deemed irrelevant, don’t delete it: you don’t want the list numbering to change. Instead, mark it in some with formatting. I use strikethrough. Gray works too.

    Step 3: Select actions

    Add an Actions header.

    In a new numbered list, choose one or two actions that will advance the troubleshooting effort. Usually, you should pick actions that will rule out, or “falsify,” one or more of the hypotheses on the table.

    To rule out Hypothesis 2 above, for instance, you could review the logs for one of the error spikes and check whether all the affected requests were associated with the same load balancer or the same storage server. If the requests are distributed across your infrastructure, then Hypothesis 2 is ruled out (and Hypothesis 1 as well, for that matter!).

    When you agree upon actions, it’s best to assign them to individuals. Sometimes an action can be taken right away, and other times it’ll take a while and the group will have to reconvene later. But ownership should never be unclear.

    Ruling out hypotheses the only purpose of actions in clinical troubleshooting. You can also assign actions that expand the group’s understanding of the problem, in order to generate new symptoms and new hypotheses. These actions can be things like, “Read the documentation on system X‘s network configuration,” or “Search for blog posts about error message E.” As long as there’s at least one hypothesis in the running, though, there ought to be at least one action in flight that could falsify it. That’s one of the ways clinical troubleshooting ensures constant progress.

    Steps 4 through N: Cycle back through

    When actions are completed, you get more information for the symptom list. More symptoms suggest new hypotheses. New hypotheses imply further actions. Just keep going through the cycle until you’re satisfied.

    Sometimes you won’t be satisfied until you have a definitive diagnosis: a solid explanation for all the symptoms that’s been proven right. Other times, you’ll be satisfied as soon as you take an action that makes the problem go away, even if there’s still uncertainty about what exactly was going on.

    In any case, clinical troubleshooting will reliably get you to the solution.

    Keep things moving forward

    In the absence of structure, collaborative diagnosis can stall out. Or worse, go backward.

    With clinical troubleshooting, there’s always a next step forward. Teams that practice this method will consistently get to the bottom of technical mysteries, even when strapped for data or under intense pressure. And over time, as this scientific way of thinking becomes a habit, and then a culture, we come to understand the behavior of our system that much better.

    I can teach your team how to do this. Get in touch.

    Interviewing engineers for diagnostic skills

    In SaaS, when we’re hiring engineers, we usually imagine that their time will mostly be spent building things. So we never forget to interview for skills at building stuff. Sometimes we ask candidates to write code on the fly. Other times we ask them to whiteboard out a sensible architecture for a new software product. We ask them to tell us a story about a piece of software or infrastructure that they built. All this focus on building things ensures that we’ll end up hiring a candidate who can build things.

    And yet, when you work in SRE or operations, or really any backend engineering role with an on-call rotation, troubleshooting is one of your core responsibilities. Some months, you’ll spend far more time troubleshooting than building. So shouldn’t your troubleshooting skills be evaluated during the interview process?

    When I talk about interviewing candidates for troubleshooting skills, I mean answering questions like:

    • Can they distinguish relevant from irrelevant facts?
    • Do they seek to answer specific questions?
    • Will they keep an open mind about the cause of a problem, rather than jumping to a conclusion?
    • Are they able to express their thought process to a colleague?
    • When they hit a dead end, will they get discouraged? Or will they calmly seek out a different approach?
    • Do they have a strategy?

    Several times throughout my SRE career, I’ve put together interview processes to screen for these skills. The most effective method I’ve found is to create a sort of interactive role-playing game in which the candidate tries to solve a tricky bug in a complex system.

    In this post, I’ll show how I went about creating one of these interview questions and how I evaluated the performance of candidates. I hope you’ll be able to copy my approach and produce your own such interview scenario (please reach out if you try this!). If you do, you’ll raise the bar for diagnostic skills on your team, and your operations will run that much more smoothly.

    The incident

    Around a year into my stint at $lastJob, I was tapped to organize an ongoing investigation into weird, customer-facing, nondeterministic-seeming API timeouts.

    The API in question was essentially a private software package registry. But the authentication logic that made the registry private was not implemented in the registry itself. Instead, calls to this registry were proxied by a broader, public-facing API, which handled auth/auth considerations. Here’s a diagram of the whole situation:

    Timeouts would occur seemingly at random, at a rate of about 1 timeout per 10,000 requests. The content of the request didn’t matter: any given request for the private registry might hang for 10 seconds and then fail. But if you immediately retried the same request, it would succeed.

    I led a team of 4 engineers in a diagnostic effort, and after almost 3 weeks of methodical investigation, we finally got to the bottom of these timeouts. Along the way, we stumbled into several dead-ends and chased a fair number of red herrings.

    I’ll spare you most of the details, but it’s important to note the existence of all these dead-ends. They later served as a signal that this problem was sufficiently complex and counterintuitive to give interview candidates a real workout. When you go searching for an incident to turn into a troubleshooting skills interview, look for investigations with lots of dead-ends.

    Anyway, the root cause (come at me) ended up being as follows. When requests arrive at the private registry, they’re served by one of N identical “backend” processes (in the diagrams below, N=3). A server distributes requests to these backends, always picking an idle backend if one exists:

    If no backend is idle, then the server must queue up the incoming request behind an in-flight request:

    What we found is that, occasionally, a particular script would execute an extremely long-running request against the registry API. This would normally be okay, but once in a blue moon, a few of these long-running requests would happen to hit the same server. This tied up multiple backends, resulting in one or more requests (☆) getting queued behind these pathologically long-running requests (△):

    Altogether, this made for a very confusing set of observations:

    • Requests passing through the fronting API would occasionally take extra long, regardless of their content.
    • If one of these requests took longer than 10 seconds, a timeout would be reached in the CLI, resulting in a customer-facing error message. In this situation,
      • The request would continue running in the fronting API, and would be logged by that system as a high-latency 200.
      • This same request would be logged as a low-latency 200 at the registry level, since that subsystem would not start its stopwatch until the backend started processing the request.
      • At the load balancer, this request would be logged as a 499, which means “the client closed its connection before we could send a response.”
    • If one of these requests took longer than 60 seconds, though, a load balancer timeout would be reached.
      • The fronting API would log a 499
      • The load balancer would log a 502 Bad Gateway
      • The registry would never log this request at all.

    The confusing nature of these symptoms is what made this issue such a perfect model for our troubleshooting interview.

    How I turned this into an interview question

    A while after this confusing incident was resolved, I was faced with the prospect of hiring SREs for my team. Since I’m very much a “squeeze the problems out of the system you have” person, rather than a “build new stuff with less problems” person, I wanted to make sure our interview process screened for good diagnostic skills.

    So I reviewed the registry timeouts incident. How could I turn that messy, roundabout, real-world investigation into an approachable interview question that would help me gauge a candidate’s troubleshooting skills?

    I changed some names, removed a couple complicating factors that would just muddy the waters, and wrote up a training document for interviewers. The training document included:

    • A description of the hypothetical architecture in which the exercise would take place;
    • A detailed explanation of the issue to be investigated, including discussion of the implications this issue would carry for observable artifacts (e.g. metrics, logs, traces, error messages);
    • A guide to conducting the interview (what to say, what not to say, how to evaluate responses).

    The document’s description of our hypothetical architecture included a bird’s-eye-view diagram of our made-up architecture:

    A service called “Vasa” took the place of the fronting API described earlier. Postgres was included in the diagram despite its irrelevance, introducing a bit of misdirection.

    To stand in for the private registry where all the queueing nonsense happened, I made up a microservice called “Argos.” It’s not shown in the bird’s-eye-view diagram. Instead, once the candidate localized the problem to the Argos service, I’d show them another, more zoomed-in diagram that included details of the Argos architecture.

    One key modification was that I made Argos (the private registry stand-in) into a generic “workspace metadata storage service.” I didn’t want candidates to fixate on the software-registry aspect of the problem, since that wasn’t especially relevant. People understand metadata storage and retrieval, and it’s boring, so they don’t ask many questions about it.

    Conducting the interview

    The actual interview takes the form of a role-playing game, almost D&D-esque. I start with a brief spiel:

    This is going to be a sort of troubleshooting roleplay adventure, in which you play as an SRE investigating a system problem. I'll lay out the system and the problem under investigation, and you'll get to ask questions and take actions as you see fit. As you learn new things, we can take notes in the Google Doc which I'm sharing now. Sound good? Shall we get started?

    After a bit of experience, I added another section to the intro:

    The exercise we're going to do is based on a real-world bug that took a team of 4 people several weeks to figure out. I mention this because I don't want you to get to the end of the interview and think, "Oh no! I didn't solve the problem! I must have failed the interview." It's very common for candidates to run out of time without finding the answer but still do very well. I'm much more interested in how you go about investigating the problem than in how far you get.

    With that, I show them the architecture diagram (above) and give a bird’s-eye-view description of the system they now “own.” Then we get into the problem:

    One day, you get assigned a ticket. According to the ticket, the support team has been getting an increasing number of reports of an issue in which a customer runs a "Get Workspace" command in the CLI, and the CLI hangs for 10 seconds before printing this message and crashing:
    ERROR: timeout waiting for response from server
    Several users have additionally reported that, if they immediately re-run their "Get Workspace" command, it succeeds as normal in under 200 milliseconds.

    “Alright,” I say to the candidate, “so you’re assigned this ticket. What do you do first?”

    From here, different candidates go in all sorts of different directions. Some want to ask more questions of the support team. Some want further clarity on the architecture. Some immediately dive into logs and metrics. I don’t try to guide them. I just make up plausible answers to their questions, given my knowledge of the underlying problem. For example:

    CANDIDATE: Can I ask the support team if there was anything else in common between the customer reports that they received?
    ME: Sure. Support doesn't understand quite what you're asking, but they give you links to all the relevant tickets. What do you look for?
    CANDIDATE: Are all the tickets from the same part of the world, or all from the same time of day or something?
    ME: You don't see any common geographic characteristics. Some of the customers are from North America, some are from Asia, some are from Australia. It does seem, from your limited sample, that most of the reports are from North American business hours, roughly mid-day, on weekdays.

    Even this early in the interview, I can sometimes detect warning signs. If a candidate immediately jumps to a specific hypothesis and gets stuck on it, I’m pretty sure this interview isn’t going to go well. But I’ll let them keep going:

    CANDIDATE: This sounds like a caching issue, because the requests are failing once and then succeeding on the second try. Are there any caches in the system that might be timing out?
    ME: There are many caching layers. There are filesystem caches, of course, and there's the buffer cache in the database. Some data items are cached in Memcache, as you can see in the diagram, and then some of the microservices have caching layers of their own.
    CANDIDATE: Okay, then I guess I'd look at the health of those caching layers.
    ME: Alright. How would you look at their health? What kinds of things would you look for?
    CANDIDATE: Like error messages, high CPU usage, that sort of thing.

    This candidate is not likely to do well. Instead of asking targeted questions to hone in on the location of the problem, they’ve leapt to a specific kind of problem (probably one they’ve seen recently in their job) based on very little evidence. Moreover, they’re not looking for the right kind of evidence. They’re looking for evidence that would confirm their suspicion, but when they don’t find any, their suspicion still won’t be ruled out. They could spin their wheels like this for the whole hour. But if that’s what they want to do, I’ll let them.

    Since the problem under investigation is sporadic (about 1 in every 10,000 requests), any approach that involves looking at aggregate system-health stats will reach a dead-end pretty quickly. Even good candidates may initially set out in the system-health direction, but they’ll quickly recognize the dead-end and incorporate this new information into their reasoning. They’ll adapt and find a new strategy.

    One such strategy is to try to find evidence of the failed requests in the system logs. But I make them work for it:

    CANDIDATE: I look in the logs to try to find the requests that are timing out.
    ME: Okay. Which logs do you look in? We've got logs from the load balancer, logs from the Vasa service, logs from the DB…
    CANDIDATE: The ones for the Vasa service.
    ME: The Vasa service has both access logs and error logs. Which one do you want to search?
    CANDIDATE: Let's look at the access logs for now.
    ME: Cool. How do you find the entries you're interested in?
    CANDIDATE: Oh. Hmm. Do we have the client IP addresses for any of the timeouts?
    ME: You search through the support tickets, but you don't find any client IP addresses.
    CANDIDATE: I guess then I would try to find requests for the Get Workspace endpoint that lasted longer than 9.99 seconds.

    When a candidate gives me enough information for a log search, I’ll make up some results, being sure to also document the parameters that were included in the search. For example,

    Searching in the Vasa access logs for Get Workspace requests that lasted longer than 9.99 seconds in the last 24 hours, you find:
    – 1000 total
    – 900: response code 200
    – 100: response code 503

    This is progress, but candidates often get stuck here for a couple reasons. Some get hung up on the request latencies. They’ll look for requests with latencies of exactly 10 seconds (of which there are none), or they’ll look for requests with latencies around 10 seconds (of which there are a few, most of which are unrelated to the problem at hand.) In the real-world investigation, we found that the borked requests as logged by Vasa had latencies ranging all the way up to 60 seconds, but because the request timeout built into the CLI was 10 seconds, the client would only hang for 10 seconds.

    Other candidates would get hung up on the response codes. Since customers are experiencing errors, the investigator would assume that the 503 responses in the log search results above are the ones causing the problem. But in reality, it’s the 200s. Due to mismatched timeouts, the stuck requests can linger in Vasa and Argos until well after the client has gone away, ultimately succeeding but without any client to return their 200 result to.

    Once a candidate finds a specific request that they suspect represents an instance of the problem, they usually want to look at a trace. In this situation, I simply draw one by hand using the Insert => Drawing command in the Google Doc. Here’s such a drawing:

    And so the process goes back and forth like this until time runs out. In all the dozens of times I administered this interview, no one ever made it to the end. But, just like I told candidates at the beginning, that’s not what I cared about anyway.

    At the end, I ask the candidate to do one last thing:

    Alright, you've gotten pretty far, but now let's suppose it's time for you to go home. Maybe you're even going on vacation. How will you update the ticket?

    With this prompt, I’m hoping the candidate will describe:

    • the relevant new facts they’ve observed,
    • the explanations they’ve ruled out, and
    • what they recommend doing next.

    A candidate who simply lists all the actions they’ve taken and the results of those actions is missing the point. I want to see that they can synthesize their observations into a coherent and succinct form that a colleague with comparable skills will be able to easily pick up where they left off.

    Evaluating results

    The evaluation of candidates’ performance on this interview goes directly back to the troubleshooting skills that I enumerated at the beginning:

    Can they distinguish relevant from irrelevant facts?

    If they spent long periods going down rabbit holes that had nothing to do with the timeouts under investigation, then the answer is “no.”

    Do they seek to answer specific questions?

    When candidates are strong in this area, they’ll reason out loud about their hypotheses. I’ll know why they’re asking for a specific piece of information because they’ll tell me why.

    It’s also pretty easy to tell when a candidate is just throwing stuff at the wall to see if anything sticks, and that’s big points off. This is not how you troubleshoot effectively.

    Will they keep an open mind about the cause of a problem, rather than jumping to a conclusion?

    Often, candidates will fixate on a particular area of the stack. “This really feels like a database problem…” or the like is a common thing to hear. Of course it’s okay – and often good – to have a hunch. But the difference between ineffective and effective troubleshooters is that the ineffective ones will keep trying to prove their hunch right, whereas the effective ones will try to prove it wrong.

    Are they able to express their thought process to a colleague?

    The “update the ticket” question at the end is very helpful here, but I can usually get solid evidence on this well before then. Throughout the exercise, a good troubleshooter will recognize shifts in their thinking and note them aloud. A not-so-good troubleshooter will leave me in the dark.

    When they hit a dead end, will they get discouraged? Or will they calmly seek out a different approach?

    On many occasions, I’ve seen candidates get discouraged at a perceived lack of progress. Usually I try to help them find a different direction to go in, and then they’re able to pick their momentum back up. But some people just shut down and stop playing the game. Others go all the way back to the beginning and start casting about for hints in seemingly random parts of the stack. These are signs that the candidate lacks the doggedness required to consistently troubleshoot difficult problems.

    Do they have a strategy?

    This is what it’s all about. I’m looking to hire someone who makes efficient use of all the resources and information available. Someone who doesn’t just seek out information, but seeks out the particular information that will narrow the search space. It’s only these strategic thinkers who pass this interview, and having subsequently worked with several of them, I can confidently say that this interview technique gets great results.

    3 questions that will make you a phenomenal rubber duck

    As a Postgres reliability consultant and SRE, I’ve spent many hours being a rubber duck. Now I outperform even the incisive bath toy.

    “Rubber duck debugging” is a widespread, tongue-in-cheek term for the practice of explaining, out-loud, a difficult problem that you’re stumped on. Often, just by putting our troubles into words, we suddenly discover insights that unlock progress. The person we’re speaking to could just as well be an inanimate object, like a rubber duck. Hence the term.

    Rubber ducks are great, but a human can add even more value. In this article, I’ll share my 3 favorite questions to ask when someone comes to me feeling stumped in a troubleshooting endeavor. These questions work even when you have no particular expertise in the problem domain. Master them, and you’ll quickly start gaining a reputation as the person to talk to when you’re stuck. This is a great reputation to have!

    Question 1: How did you first start investigating this?

    As we investigate a problem, our focus shifts from one thing to another to another. We go down one path and forget about others. We zoom in on details and neglect to zoom back out. It’s easy to lose perspective.

    “How did you first start investigating this?” works well because, through the act of recounting their journey from initial observation to where they are now, your colleague will often regain perspective they’ve lost along the way. And by asking this particular question, you avoid having to suggest that they may have lost perspective – which could make them defensive.

    Even if your colleague hasn’t lost perspective, hearing the story of the investigation so far will help you ask better questions and help them organize their thoughts.

    Question 2: What observations have you made?

    In troubleshooting a complex problem, it’s easy to forget what you already know. As you go along, you make lots of observations, small and large, interesting and boring, relevant and irrelevant. You can’t hold them all in your head.

    When someone’s stuck, it often helps to review their observations. Not theories, not difficulties, not actions: directly observed facts.

    Reviewing observations can help in a few different ways:

    • They may be entertaining a hypothesis that clashes with some previously learned (but since forgotten) fact. If so, they can now go ahead and discard that hypothesis.
    • Juxtaposing two observations may suggest a hypothesis that never occurred to them before, because they never held those two observations in their head simultaneously.
    • Listing out their observations may bring to mind something they haven’t looked at yet.

    As your colleague recounts their observations, write them down in a numbered list. And, if you can, ask clarifying questions. Questions like “Does X always happen concurrently with Y, or only sometimes?” and “How does this differ from the normal behavior?”

    Never underestimate the power of precisely stating the facts.

    Question 3: If your hypothesis were wrong, how could we disprove it?

    This question is my favorite.

    One of the most common ways people get stuck in troubleshooting is tunnel vision. They get a single idea in their head about the cause of the problem, and that becomes all they can think about.

    This question, “If your hypothesis were wrong, how could we disprove it?” flips the script. Instead of racking their brain trying to prove their theory, it gets them thinking about other possibilities. Asking this question can lead to lots of different outcomes, all of which represent progress:

    1. You come up with a way to disprove the hypothesis, and successfully disprove it. This may make your colleague sad for a few hours, but when they come back to the problem, they’ll make huge strides.
    2. You come up with a way to disprove the hypothesis, but fail to disprove it. The hypothesis is thus bolstered, and the next step becomes clear: elaborate a few different versions of it and try to disprove those.
    3. You can’t think of any way to disprove it. This means it’s probably not a hypothesis at all, since it’s not falsifiable. Therefore you must replace it with a new hypothesis. This may feel like a setback, but it’s really the only way forward.

    How it fits together

    Under the hood, these 3 questions are just different ways of invoking hypothetico-deductive reasoning, which I’ve written about previously (see Troubleshooting On A Distributed Team Without Losing Common Ground and You Know Who’s Smart? Friggin’ Doctors, Man.). I don’t know of any better way to achieve consistent problem-solving results in the face of complexity.

    If you’re interested in learning how to apply these techniques in your career or in your organization, I can help. Shoot me an email!

    Why transaction order matters, even if you’re only reading

    There are 4 isolation levels defined by the SQL standard, and Postgres supports them through the SET TRANSACTION statement. They are:

    • Read uncommitted: It’s possible to read data written by another concurrent uncommitted transaction (this is called a “dirty read”). (Note: this isolation level is not really implemented by Postgres)
    • Read committed: Dirty reads are not possible.
    • Repeatable read: “Nonrepeatable reads” are not possible. A nonrepeatable read is when you do a read once, then you do the same read again and see that data has been modified by another concurrent transaction.
    • Serializable: The strongest isolation level, this guarantees that repeating a read within a transaction will not only always return the same data for each row, but also the same set of rows. And it further guarantees that the end result of any set of concurrent transactions will be a possible outcome of having run those same transactions in serial, in some order.

    This last guarantee is one against serialization anomalies. A serialization anomaly is any sequence of events that produces a result that would be impossible if those transactions ran one-at-a-time (“in serial”). This guarantee is tricky to reason about, but the Postgres docs have a great example to demonstrate it.

    A simple serialization anomaly

    The example from the docs goes like this. You have the following table, mytab:

    class | value
    -------+-------
    1 | 10
    1 | 20
    2 | 100
    2 | 200

    And the following two transactions run concurrently:

    Transaction ATransaction BNotes
    BEGIN;BEGIN;
    SELECT SUM(value)
    FROM mytab
    WHERE class = 1;
    The result is 30.
    SELECT SUM(value)
    FROM mytab
    WHERE class = 2;
    The result is 300.
    INSERT INTO mytab
    (class, value)
    VALUES (2, 30);
    INSERT INTO mytab
    (class, value)
    VALUES (1, 300);
    COMMIT;COMMIT;

    This is a serialization anomaly, since no serial ordering of A and B could produce the same end result:

    • A => B: Transaction B writes 330.
    • B => A: Transaction A writes 600.

    The explanation is pretty straightforward once you walk through it. Each transaction writes data that the other reads in order to determine what data to write. So you end up with a situation that could never occur if the transactions had been run in serial.

    But I also noticed this passage in the docs:

    A READ ONLY transaction may be able to release its SIRead locks before completion, if it detects that no conflicts can still occur which could lead to a serialization anomaly. In fact, READ ONLY transactions will often be able to establish that fact at startup and avoid taking any predicate locks. If you explicitly request a SERIALIZABLE READ ONLY DEFERRABLE transaction, it will block until it can establish this fact.

    This surprised me because, intuitively, I wouldn’t think that a READ ONLY transaction could participate in a serialization anomaly. How can it be that just reading data concurrently with other transactions could cause a result inconsistent with serial execution? Such a transaction can’t even lock rows. I racked my brains trying to think of such a situation, but came up empty.

    A serialization anomaly from a READ ONLY transaction

    Lucky for me, back in about 2000, somebody else racked their brains about it too, and produced this 3-page paper describing just such a situation. Right near the beginning, I read:

    It has been widely assumed that, under SI [a.k.a. SERIALIZABLE transaction isolation mode], read-only transactions always execute serializably provided the concurrent update transactions are serializable. The reason for this is that all SI reads return values from a single instant of time when all committed transactions have completed their writes and no writes of non-committed transactions are visible. This seems to imply that read-only transactions will not read anomalous results so long as the update transactions with which they execute do not write such results.

    “Yeah, exactly!” I thought. But it turns out to be possible, and here’s how it works.

    Suppose we have the following table, representing bank account balances.

                  Table "public.accounts"
    Column | Type | Collation | Nullable | Default
    --------+---------+-----------+----------+---------
    id | integer | | not null |
    value | integer | | not null |
    Indexes:
    "accounts_pkey" PRIMARY KEY, btree (id)

    And suppose further that the following two accounts exist, with zero balance:

    # SELECT * FROM accounts;
    id | value
    ----+-------
    1 | 0
    2 | 0

    These two accounts are owned by the same customer, and the sum of their balances must always be positive. If the sum goes negative, then a $1 overdraft fee is assessed. Now consider the following 3 DB transactions:

    • T1: Deposits $20 into account 2.
    • T2: Withdraws $10 from account 1.
    • T3: Retrieves the balances of both accounts and prints them out.

    Let’s walk through these transactions and see how a serialization anomaly can emerge:

    T1T2T3Notes
    BEGIN TRANSACTION ISOLATION LEVEL SERIALIZABLE;BEGIN TRANSACTION ISOLATION LEVEL SERIALIZABLE;BEGIN TRANSACTION ISOLATION LEVEL SERIALIZABLE;
    SELECT id, value
    FROM accounts
    WHERE id IN (1,2);
    T2 needs the balances of both accounts in order to know whether their sum is negative.
    Both are 0.
    SELECT value
    FROM accounts
    WHERE id = 2;
    Still 0.
    UPDATE accounts
    SET value = 20
    WHERE id = 2;
    Deposits $20 into account 2.
    COMMIT;T2 is now working with an outdated value.
    SELECT id, value
    FROM accounts
    WHERE id IN (1,2);
    T3 gets values (0, 20).
    COMMIT;T3 sends this result to the printer.
    UPDATE accounts
    SET value = -11
    WHERE id = 1;
    Withdraws $10 from account 1, charging a $1 overdraft fee.
    COMMIT;

    When T2 tries to commit, it fails with the following error:

    ERROR:  could not serialize access due to read/write dependencies among transactions
    DETAIL: Reason code: Canceled on identification as a pivot, during write.
    HINT: The transaction might succeed if retried.

    Postgres has identified a potential serialization anomaly and prevented it by aborting T2. It’s a serialization anomaly because, if T2 were allowed to commit, then the customer would be charged an overdraft fee for withdrawing $10 despite having a print-out showing a total balance of $20. This could never happen if these transactions were run one-at-a-time in any order:

    • T1 => T2 => T3: print-out has a total balance of $10, and no overdraft fee is charged.
    • T1 => T3 => T2: print-out shows $20, and no overdraft fee is charged.
    • T2 => T1 => T3: print-out shows $9 ($-11 + $20).
    • T2 => T3 => T1: print-out shows $-11.
    • T3 => T1 => T2: print-out shows $0.
    • T3 => T2 => T1: print-out shows $0.

    And, as we can also see, this serialization anomaly couldn’t occur if T3 were absent. Either of the possible orderings of T1 and T2 produces an internally consistent result.

    Avoiding this problem

    If you’re not using the Serializable isolation level, then instead of an error at COMMIT time, you just get a bug. And a scrap of paper that the SEC is going to have some embarrassing questions about.

    So you can either use Serializable, or stick with a lower isolation level such as Read Committed and introduce a lock. For example, if T2 were to exclusively lock the row for account 1 when reading it, by using SELECT FOR UPDATE, then T1 would block until T2 committed. This would eliminate the bug.

    Another fix, using the Repeatable Read isolation level, would be to add an additional row containing the sum of balances for each group of accounts, and require that any transaction updating one of those balances also update the sum row. Whichever transaction tried to update that row last would get an error and be forced to retry the transaction, thus eliminating the bug.

    If you can, I recommend starting with Serializable, and only switching to a lower isolation level on a transaction-by-transaction basis when the performance cost of serializability checks becomes too high.

    Concurrent locks and MultiXacts in Postgres

    Pretty recently, I was troubleshooting a performance issue in a production Rails app backed by Postgres. There was this one class of query that would get slower and slower over the course of about an hour. The exact pathology is a tale for another time, but the investigation led me down the rabbit hole of a particular data structure in Postgres internals called a MultiXact.

    Let’s look at what a MultiXact is, why it exists, and under what circumstances one comes into existence.

    What the hell is a MultiXact?

    A two-panel meme based on The Fifth Element. First panel shows Leeloo holding up her Multipass with the text, "Leeloo Dallas MultiXact". Second panel shows Korben, exasperated, saying "Yeah she knows it's a MultiXact"

    In Postgres, it’s possible for two threads (or indeed, even three!) to lock the same row at the same time, as long as their locks don’t conflict with one another. The rules for what kinds of locks conflict with what other kinds of locks are admirably documented.

    When you lock a row in Postgres, what you do is, you put your transaction ID in the xmax field of the corresponding tuple in storage (more on xmax on the Cybertec blog). This way, anyone who comes along looking for this row will know that you already have it locked. The latecomer can then wait for the lock:

    Transaction 768Transaction 769Notes
    SELECT *
    FROM foo
    WHERE x = 9
    FOR UPDATE;
    Transaction 768 now has a row lock. The row’s xmax field contains the value 768.
    SELECT *
    FROM foo
    WHERE x = 9
    FOR UPDATE;
    Transaction 769 retrieves the current row, sees that Transaction 768 already holds a lock that conflicts with the lock it wants, and waits for Transaction 768 to be over.

    But what if two threads both want to lock the same row simultaneously? For example:

    Transaction 772Transaction 773Notes
    SELECT *
    FROM foo
    WHERE x = 9
    FOR SHARE;
    Afterward, transaction 772 has a row lock. The row’s xmax field contains the value 772.
    SELECT *
    FROM foo
    WHERE x = 9
    FOR SHARE;
    What happens now? 

    Transaction 773 can’t just write its transaction ID into the xmax field. That would amount to preempting Transaction 772‘s lock… which would defeat the whole point of locking. To solve this problem, Postgres creates a MultiXact. A MultiXact essentially bundles together some set of transactions so that those transactions can all lock the same row at the same time. Instead of a transaction ID, a new MultiXact ID is written to the row’s xmax.

    Transaction 772Transaction 773Notes
    SELECT *
    FROM foo
    WHERE x = 9
    FOR SHARE;
    SELECT *
    FROM foo
    WHERE x = 9
    FOR SHARE;
    Now both transactions have the row locked. The row’s xmax field is set to 14, which is a MultiXact ID. MultiXact 14 refers to transactions 772 and 773 by their transaction IDs.
    COMMIT;Transaction 773 is now over, but the row’s xmax value is still 14. Since MultiXacts are immutable, MultiXact 14 still refers to the now-defunct Transaction 773 as well as the ongoing Transaction 772.
    COMMIT;With both transactions over, there are no remaining locks active on the row. Its xmax value is still 14, and will remain 14 until another thread locks the row or the table is vacuumed.

    It bears repeating that MultiXacts are immutable. If transactions 104 and 108 both have row R locked as part of MultiXact 19, and transaction 117 locks row R too, transaction 117 can’t just join MultiXact 19. Instead, a new MultiXact with ID 20 is created, which contains 104, 108, and 117.

    This means that, every time an additional transaction wants to lock a row, Postgres has to write the whole new MultiXact to a buffer. For large MultiXacts, the time-cost of all this reading and writing can become quite significant. Especially since access to the underlying data region is subject to a set of global mutexes.

    Counterintuitively, a MultiXact doesn’t always involve multiple transactions.

    When I first encountered MultiXacts in production, it was extra confusing, because I was seeing MultiXacts get created within a single transaction. “What gives?” I thought! “They’re supposed to be multi.”

    Turns out, we were doing something like this:

    BEGIN;
    SELECT * FROM queue_jobs
    WHERE id = 4
    FOR SHARE;

    SAVEPOINT foo;

    SELECT *
    FROM queue_jobs
    WHERE id = 4
    FOR UPDATE;

    A savepoint doesn’t technically create a new transaction (I don’t think), but nevertheless, Postgres needs to keep track of the fact that the FOR UPDATE lock was taken after the savepoint, so that that lock can be relinquished in case of a subsequent ROLLBACK TO foo command. As a result, a new MultiXact gets created and its ID gets placed in the row’s xmax field.

    I hope I’ve contributed to your understanding of MultiXacts in Postgres! It’s the sort of thing where you don’t ever need to think or know about it, until suddenly you do.