Same pot, same burner, same number of minutes you've used for years. You cut one open and the yolk is chalky with a grey ring, or it's still loose in the middle. Nothing about what you did changed, so you assume you did something wrong — and after enough mornings like that, you just stop making them. Cereal again. Or the drive-through again.
And the usual fixes don't fix much. Older eggs help until they don't. Vinegar in the water is a coin flip. The ice bath everyone swears by still leaves you picking shell out of the white with wet hands. A phone timer only works if you're standing there to hear it, and a bigger pot just means more boiling water to lift and drain. Meanwhile the window between jammy and ruined is about ninety seconds wide, and you're expected to hit it while three other things need you.
Most people just live with it — another batch they're not sure about, another good intention that quietly stops by week three. It doesn't have to be a guess.