Over a year and a half ago, I wrote up a post about the rights and responsibilities due any engineer at Honeycomb. At the time we were in the middle of a growth spurt, had just hired several new engineers, and I was in the process of turning over day-to-day engineering management over to Emily. Writing things down helped me codify what I actually cared about, and helped keep us true to our principles as we grew.
Tacked on to the end of the post was a list of manager responsibilities, almost as an afterthought. Many people protested, “don’t managers get any rights??” (and naturally I snapped “NO! hahahahahha”)
I always intended to circle back and write a followup post with the rights and responsibilities for managers. But it wasn’t til recently, as we are gearing up for another hiring spurt and have expanded our managerial ranks, that it really felt like its time had come.
The time has come, the time is now, as marvin k. mooney once said. Added the bill of rights, and updated and expanded the list of responsibilities. Thanks Emily Nakashima for co-writing it with me.
Manager’s Bill of Rights
You shall receive honest, courageous, timely feedback about yourself and your team, from your reports, your peers, and your leaders. (No one is exempt from feeding the hungry hungry feedback hippo! NOO ONNEEEE!) 🦛🦛🦛🦛🦛🦛🦛
Management will be treated with the same respect and importance as individual work.
You have the final say over hiring, firing, and leveling decisions for your team. It is expected that you solicit feedback from your team and peers and drive consensus where possible. But in the end, the say is yours.
Management can be draining, difficult work, even at places that do it well. You will get tactical, strategic, and emotional support from other managers.
You cannot take care of others unless you first practice self-care. You damn well better take vacations. (Real ones.)
You have the right to personal development, career progression, and professional support. We will retain a leadership coach for you.
You do not have to be a manager if you do not want to. No one will ever pressure you.
Recruit and hire and train your team. Foster a sense of solidarity and “teaminess” as well as real emotional safety.
Cultivate an inclusive culture and redistribute opportunity. Fuck a pedigree. Resist monoculture.
Care for the people on your team. Support them in their career trajectory, personal goals, work/life balance, and inter- and intra-team dynamics.
Keep an eye out for people on other teams who aren’t getting the support they need, and work with your leadership and manager peers to fix the situation.
Give feedback early and often. Receive feedback gracefully. Always say the hard things, but say them with love.
Move us relentlessly forward, staying alert for rabbit-holing and work that doesn’t contribute to our goals. Ensure redundancy/coverage of critical areas.
Own the planning process for your team, be accountable for the goals you set. Allocate resources by communicating priorities and requesting support. Add focus or urgency where needed.
Own your time and attention. Be accessible. Actively manage your calendar. Try not to make your emotions everyone else’s problems (but do lean on your own manager and your peers for support).
Make your own personal growth and self-care a priority. Model the values and traits we want employees to pattern themselves after.
(With 🙏 to Joe Beda, whose brilliant idea for a blog post this was. Thanks for letting me borrow it!)
Interviewing is hard and it sucks.
In theory, it really shouldn’t be. You’re a highly paid professional and your skills are in high demand. This ought to be a meeting between equals to mutually explore what a longer-term relationship might look like. Why take the outcome personally? There are at least as many reasons for you to decide not to join a company as for the company to decide not to hire you, right?
In reality, of course, all the situational cues and incentives line up to make you feel like the whole thing is a referendum on whether or not you personally are Good Enough (smart enough, senior enough, skilled enough, cool enough) to join their fancy club.
People stay at shitty jobs far, far longer than they ought to, just because interviews can be so genuinely crushing to your spirit and sense of self. Even when they aren’t the worst, it can leave a lasting sting when they decline to hire you.
But there is an important asymmetry here. By not hiring someone, I very rarely mean it as a rejection of that person. (Not unless they were, like, mean to the office manager, or directed all their technical questions to the male interviewers.) On the contrary, I generally hold the people we decline to hire — or have had to let go! — in extremely high opinion.
So if someone interviews at Honeycomb, I do not want them to walk away feeling stung, hurt, or bad about themselves. I would like them to walk away feeling good about themselves and our interactions, even if one or both of us are disappointed by the outcome. I want them to feel the same way about themselves as I feel about them, especially since there’s a high likelihood that I may want to work with them in the future.
So here are the real, honest-to-god most common reasons why I don’t hire someone.
If you’ve worked at a Google or Facebook before, you may have a certain mental model of how hiring works. You ask the candidate a bunch of questions, and if they do well enough, you hire them. This could not be more different from early stage startup hiring, which is defined in every way by scarcity.
I only have a few precious slots to fill this year, and every single one of them is tied to one or more key company initiatives or goals, without which we may fail as a company. Emily and I spend hours obsessively discussing what the profile we are looking for is, what the smallest possible set of key strengths and skills that this hire must have, inter-team and intra-team dynamics and what elements are missing or need to be bolstered from the team as it stands. And at the end of the day, there are not nearly as many slots to fill as there are awesome people we’d like to hire. Not even close. Having to choose between several differently wonderful people can be *excruciating*.
No, not that kind. (Yes, we care about cultivating a diverse team and support that goal through our recruiting and hiring processes, but it’s not a factor in our hiring decisions.) I mean your level, stage in your career, educational background, professional background, trajectory, areas of focus and strengths. We are trying to build radical new tools for sociotechnical systems; tools that are friendly, intuitive, and accessible to every engineer (and engineering-adjacent profession) in the world.
How well do you think we’re going to do at our goal if the people building it are all ex-Facebook, ex-MIT senior engineers? If everyone has the exact same reference points and professional training, we will all have the same blind spots. Even if our team looks like a fucking Benetton ad.
3. We are assembling a team, not hiring individuals.
We spend at least as much time hashing out what the subtle needs of the team are right now as talking about the individual candidate. Maybe what we need is a senior candidate who loves mentoring with her whole heart, or a language polyglot who can help unify the look and feel of our integrations across ten different languages and platforms. Or maybe we have plenty of accomplished mentors, but the team is really lacking someone with expertise in query profiling and db tuning, and we expect this to be a big source of pain in the coming year. Maybe we realize we have nobody on the team who is interested in management, and we are definitely going to need someone to grow into or be hired on as a manager a year or two from now.
There is no value judgment or hierarchy attached to any of these skills or particulars. We simply need what we need, and you are who you are.
4. I am not confident that we can make you successful in this role at this time.
We rarely turn people down for purely technical reasons, because technical skills can be learned. But there can be some combination of your skills, past experience, geographical location, time zone, experience with working remotely, etc — that just gives us pause. If we cast forward a year, do we think you are going to be joyfully humming along and enjoying yourself, working more-or-less independently and collaboratively? If we can’t convince ourselves this is true, for whatever reasons, we are unlikely to hire you. (But we would love to talk with you again someday.)
5. The team needs someone operating at a different level.
Don’t assume this always means “you aren’t senior enough”. We have had to turn down people at least as often for being too senior as not senior enough. An organization can only absorb so many principal and senior engineers; there just isn’t enough high-level strategic work to go around. I believe happy, healthy teams are comprised of a range of levels — you need more junior folks asking naive questions that give senior folks the opportunity to explain themselves and catch their dumb mistakes. You need there to be at least one sweet child who is just so completely stoked to build their very first login page.
A team staffed with nothing but extremely senior developers will be a dysfunctional, bored and contentious team where no one is really growing up or being challenged as they should.
6. We don’t have the kind of work you need or want.
The first time we tried hiring junior developers, we ran into this problem hardcore. We simply didn’t have enough entry-level work for them to do. Everything was frustratingly complex and hard for them, so they weren’t able to operate independently, and we couldn’t spare an engineer to pair with them full time.
This also manifests in other ways. Like, lots of SREs and data engineers would LOVE to work at honeycomb. But we don’t have enough ops engineering work or data problems to keep them busy full time. (Well — that’s not precisely true. They could probably keep busy. But it wouldn’t be aligned with our core needs as a business, which makes them premature optimizations we cannot afford.)
7. Communication skills.
We select highly for communication skills. The core of our technical interview involves improving and extending a piece of code, then bringing it in the next day to discuss it with your peers. We believe that if you can explain what you did and why, you can definitely do the work, and the reverse is not necessarily true. We also believe that communication skills are at the foundation of a team’s ability to learn from its mistakes and improve as a unit. We value high-performing teams, therefore we select for those skills.
There are many excellent engineers who are not good communicators, or who do not value communication the way we do, and while we may respect you very much, it’s not a great fit for our team.
8. You don’t actually want to work at a startup.
“I really want to work at a startup. Also the things that are really important to me are: work/life balance, predictability, high salary, gold benefits, stability, working from 10 to 5 on the dot, knowing what i’ll be working on for the next month, not having things change unexpectedly, never being on call, never needing to think or care about work out of hours …”
To be clear, it is not a red flag if you care about work/life balance. We care about that too — who the hell doesn’t? But startups are inherently more chaotic and unpredictable, and roles are more fluid and dynamic, and I want to make sure your expectations are aligned with reality.
9. You just want to work for women.
I hate it when I’m interviewing someone and I ask why they’re interested in Honeycomb, and they enthusiastically say “Because it was founded by women!”, and I wait for the rest of it, but that’s all there is. That’s it? Nothing interests you about the problem, the competitive space, the people, the customers … nothing?? It’s fine if the leadership team is what first caught your eye. But it’s kind of insulting to just stop there. Just imagine if somebody asked you out on a date “because you’re a woman”. Low. Fucking. Bar.
10. I truly want you to be happy.
I have no interest in making a hard sell to people who are dubious about Honeycomb. I don’t want to hire people who can capably do the job, but whose hearts are really elsewhere doing other things, or who barely tolerate going to work every day. I want to join with people who see their labor as an extension of themselves, who see work as an important part of their life’s project. I only want you to work here if it’s what’s best for you.
11. I’m not perfect.
We have made the wrong decision before, and will do so again. >_<
As a candidate, it is tempting to feel like you will get the job if you are awesome enough, therefore if you do not get the job it must be because you were insufficiently awesome. But that is not how hiring works — not for highly constrained startups, anyway.
If we brought you in for an interview, we already think you’re awesome. Period. Now we’re just trying to figure out if you narrowly intersect the skill sets we are lacking that we need to succeed this year.
If you could be a fly on the wall, listening to us talk about you, the phrase you would hear over and over is not “how good are they?”, but “what will they need to be successful? can we provide the support they need?” We know this is as much of a referendum on us as it is on you. And we are not perfect.
Seven years ago I was working on backend infra for mobile apps at Parse, resenting MongoDB and its accursed single write lock per replica with all my dirty, blackened soul. That’s when Miles Ward asked me to give a customer testimonial for MongoDB at AWS reinvent.
It was my first time EVER speaking in public, and I had never been more terrified. I have always been a writer, not a talker, and I was pathologically afraid of speaking in public, or even having groups of people look at me. I scripted every word, memorized my lines, even printed it all out just in case my laptop didn’t work. I had nightmares every night. For three months I woke up every night in a cold sweat, shaking.
And I bombed, completely and utterly. The laptop DIDN’T work, my limbs and tongue froze, I was shaking so badly I could hardly read my printout, and after I rushed through the last sentences I turned and stumbled robotically off the stage, fully unaware that people were raising their hands and asking questions. I even tripped over the microphone cord in my haste to escape the stage.
Afterwards I burned with unpleasantries — fear, anger, humiliation, rage at being so bad at anything. It was excruciating. For the next two years I sought out every opportunity I could get to talk at a meetup, conference, anything. I got a prescription for propranolol to help manage the physical symptoms of panic. I gave 17 more talks that year, spending most nights and weekends working on them or rehearsing, and 21 the year after that. I hated every second of it.
I hated it, but I burned up my fear and aversion as fuel. Until around 18 months later, when I realized that I no longer had nightmares and had forgotten to pack my meds for a conference. I brute forced my way through to the other side, and public speaking became just an ordinary skill or a tool like any other.
I was on a podcast last week where the topic was career journeys. They asked me what piece of career advice I would like to give to people. I promptly said that following your bliss is nice, but I think it’s important to learn to lean into pain.
“Pain is nature’s teacher,” I said. Feedback loops train us every day, mostly unconsciously. We feel aversion for pain, and we enjoy dopamine hits, and out of those and other brain chemicals our habits are made. All it takes is a little tolerance for discomfort and a some conscious tweaking of those feedback loops, and you can train yourself to achieve big things without even really trying.
But then I hesitated. Yes, leaning in to pain has done well for me in my career. But that is not the whole story, it leaves off some important truths. It has also hurt me and held me back.
Misery is not a virtue. Pain is awful. That’s why it’s so powerful and primal. It’s a pre-conscious mechanism, an acute response that kicks in long before your conscious mind. Even just the suggestion of pain (or memory of past trauma) will train you to twist and contort around to avoid it.
When you are in pain, your horizons shrink. Your vision narrows, you curl inward. You have to expend enormous amounts of energy just moving forward through the day inch by inch.
Everything is hard when you’re in pain. Your creative brain shuts down. Basic life functions become impossible tests. You have to spend so much time compensating for your reduced capacity that learning new things is nearly impossible. You can’t pick up on subtle signals when your nerves are screaming in agony. And you grow numb over time, as they die off from sheer exhaustion.
I am no longer the CEO of honeycomb.
I never wanted to be CEO; I always fiercely wanted a technical role. But it was a matter of company survival, and I did my best. I wasn’t a great CEO, although we did pretty well at the things I am good at or care about. But I couldn’t expand past them.
I hated every second of it. I cried every single day for the first year and a half. I tried to will myself into loving a role I couldn’t stand, tried to brute force my way to success like I always do. It didn’t get better. My ability to be present and curious and expansive withered. I got numb.
Turns out not every problem can be powered through on a high pain tolerance. The collateral damage starts to rack up. Sometimes the only way to succeed is to redefine success.
Pain is a terrific teacher, but pain is an acute response. Chronic pain will hijack your reward pathways, your perspective, your relationships, and every other productive system and leave them stunted.
Leaning in to pain can be powerful if you have the agency and ability to change it, or practice it to mastery, or even just adapt your own emotional responses to it. If you don’t or you can’t, leaning in to pain will kill you. Having the wisdom to know the difference is everything. Or so I’m learning.
From here on out I’ll be in the CTO seat. I don’t know what that even means yet, but I guess we’ll find out. Stay tuned. <3
You’ve convinced the security team and other stakeholders, you’ve gotten the integration running, you’re getting promising results from dev-test or staging environments… now it’s time to move from proof-of-concept to full implementation.Depending on your situation this might be a transition from staging to production, or it might mean increasing a feature flipper flag from 5% to 100%, or it might mean increasing coverage of an integration from one API endpoint to cover your entire developer footprint.
Taking into account Murphy’s Law, we expect that some things will go wrong during the rollout.Perhaps during coverage, a developer realizes that the schema designed to handle the app’s event mechanism can’t represent a scenario, requiring a redesign or a hacky solution.Or perhaps the metrics dashboard shows elevated error rates from the API frontend, and while there’s no smoking gun, the ops oncall decides to rollback the integration Just In Case it’s causing the incident.
This gives us another chance to practice empathy — while it’s easy, wearing the champion hat, to dismiss any issues found by looking for someone to blame, ultimately this poisons trust within your organization and will hamper success.It’s more effective, in the long run (and often even in the short run), to find common ground with your peers in other disciplines and teams, and work through to solutions that satisfy everybody.
Keeping the lights on
In all likelihood as integration succeeds, the team will rapidly develop experts and expertise, as well as idiomatic ways to use the product.Let the experts surprise you; folks you might not expect can step up when given a chance.Expertise flourishes when given guidance and goals; as the team becomes comfortable with the integration, explicitly recognize a leader or point person for each vendor relationship.Having one person explicitly responsible for a relationship lets them pay attention to those vendor emails, updates, and avoid the tragedy of the “but I thought *you* were” commons.This Integration Lead is also a center of knowledge transfer for your organization — they won’t know everything or help every user come up to speed, but they can help empower the local power users in each team to ramp up their teams on the integration.
As comfort grows you will start to consider ways to change your usage, for example growing into new kinds of data.This is a good time to revisit that security checklist — does the change increase PII exposure to your vendor?Would the new data lead to additional requirements such as per-field encryption?Don’t let these security concerns block you from gaining valuable insight using the new tool, but do take the chance to talk it over with your security experts as appropriate.
Throughout this organic growth, the Integration Lead remains core to managing your changing profile of usage of the vendor they shepherd; as new categories of data are added to the integration, the Lead has responsibility to ensure that the vendor relationship and risk profile are well matched to the needs that the new usage (and presumably, business value) is placing on the relationship.
Documenting the Intergation Lead role and responsibilities is critical. The team should know when to check in, and writing it down helps it happen.When new code has a security implication, or a new use case potentially amplifies the cost of an integration, bringing the domain expert in will avoid unhappy surprises.Knowing how to find out who to bring in, and when to bring them in, will keep your team getting the right eyes on their changes.
Security threats and other challenges change over time, too.Collaborating with your security team so that they know what systems are in use helps your team take note of new information that is relevant to your business. A simple example is noting when your vendors publish a breach announcement, but more complex examples happen too — your vendor transitions cloud providers from AWS to Azure and the security team gets an alert about unexpected data flows from your production cluster; with transparency and trust such events become part of a routine process rather than an emergency.
It’s all operational
Monitoring and alerting is a fact of operations life, and this has to include vendor integrations (even when the vendor integration is a monitoring product.)All of your operations best practices are needed here — keep your alerts clean and actionable so that you don’t develop pager fatigue, and monitor performance of the integration so that you don’t get blindsided by a creeping latency monster in your APIs.
Authentication and authorization are changing as the threat landscape evolves and industry moves from SMS verification codes to U2F/WebAuthn.Does your vendor support your SSO integration?If they can’t support the same SSO that you use everywhere else and can’t add it — or worse, look confused when you mention SSO — that’s probably a sign you should consider a different vendor.
A beautiful sunset
Have a plan beforehand for what needs to be done should you stop using the service.Got any mobile apps that depend on APIs that will go away or start returning permission errors?Be sure to test these scenarios ahead of time.
What happens at contract termination to data stored on the service?Do you need to explicitly delete data when ceasing use?
Do you need to remove integrations from your systems before ending the commercial relationship, or can the technical shutdown and business shutdown run in parallel?
In all likelihood these are contingency plans that will never be needed, and they don’t need to be fully fleshed out to start, but a little bit of forethought can avoid unpleasant surprises.
Year after year
Industry best practice and common sense dictate that you should revisit the security questionnaire annually (if not more frequently). Use this chance to take stock of the last year and check in — are you getting value from the service?What has changed in your business needs and the competitive landscape?
It’s entirely possible that a new year brings new challenges, which could make your current vendor even more valuable (time to negotiate a better contract rate!) or could mean you’d do better with a competing service.Has the vendor gone through any major changes?They might have new offerings that suit your needs well, or they may have pivoted away from the features you need.
Check in with your friends on the security team as well; standards evolve, and last year’s sufficient solution might not be good enough for new requirements.
Andy thinks out loud about security, society, and the problems with computers on Twitter.
❤️ Thanks so much reading, folks. Please feel free to drop any complaints, comments, or additional tips to us in the comments, or direct them to me on twitter.
All this pain will someday be worth it. 🙏❤️ charity + friends
“Get Aligned With Security”
by Lilly Ryan
If your team has decided on a third-party service to help you gather data and debug product issues, how do you convince an often overeager internal security team to help you adopt it?
When this service is something that provides a pathway for developers to access production data, as analytics tools often do, making the case for access to that data can screech to a halt at the mention of the word “production”. Progressing past that point will take time, empathy, and consideration.
I have been on both sides of the “adopting a new service” fence: as a developer hoping to introduce something new and useful to our stack, and now as a security professional who spends her days trying to bust holes in other people’s setups. I understand both sides of the sometimes-conflicting needs to both ship software and to keep systems safe.
This guide has advice to help you solve the immediate problem of choosing and deploying a third-party service with the approval of your security team. But it also has advice for how to strengthen the working relationship between your security and development teams over the longer term. No two companies are the same, so please adapt these ideas to fit your circumstances.
Understanding the security mindset
The biggest problems in technology are never really about technology, but about people. Seeing your security team as people and understanding where they are coming from will help you to establish empathy with them so that both of you want to help each other get what you want, not block each other.
First, understand where your security team is coming from. Development teams need to build features, improve the product, understand and ship good code. Security teams need to make sure you don’t end up on the cover of the NYT for data breaches, that your business isn’t halted by ransomware, and that you’re not building your product on a vulnerable stack.
This can be an unfamiliar frame of mind for developers. Software development tends to attract positive-minded people who love creating things and are excited about the possibilities of new technology. Software security tends to attract negative thinkers who are skilled at finding all the flaws in a system. These are very different mentalities, and the people who occupy them tend to have very different assumptions, vocabularies, and worldviews.
But if you and your security team can’t share the same worldview, it will be hard to trust each other and come to agreement. This is where practicing empathy can be helpful.
Before approaching your security team with your request to approve a new vendor, you may want to run some practice exercises for putting yourselves in their shoes and forcing yourselves to deliberately cultivate a negative thinking mindset to experience how they may react — not just in terms of the objective risk to the business, or the compliance headaches it might cause, but also what arguments might resonate with them and what emotional reactions they might have.
My favourite exercise for getting teams to think negatively is what I call the Land Astronaut approach.
The “Land Astronaut” Game
Imagine you are an astronaut on the International Space Station. Literally everything you do in space has death as a highly possible outcome. So astronauts spend a lot of time analysing, re-enacting, and optimizing their reactions to events, until it becomes muscle memory. By expecting and training for failure, astronauts use negative thinking to anticipate and mitigate flaws before they happen. It makes their chances of survival greater and their people ready for any crisis.
Your project may not be as high-stakes as a space mission, and your feet will most likely remain on the ground for the duration of your work, but you can bet your security team is regularly indulging in worst-case astronaut-type thinking. You and your team should try it, too.
Pick a service for you and your team to game out. Schedule an hour, book a room with a whiteboard, put on your Land Astronaut helmets. Then tell your team to spend half an hour brainstorming about all the terrible things that can happen to that service, or to the rest of your stack when that service is introduced. Negative thoughts only!
Start brainstorming together. Start out by being as outlandish as possible (what happens if their data centre is suddenly overrun by a stampede of elephants?). Eventually you will find that you’ll tire of the extreme worst case scenarios and come to consider more realistic outcomes — some of which which you may not have thought of outside of the structure of the activity.
After half an hour, or whenever you feel like you’re all done brainstorming, take off your Land Astronaut helmets, sift out the most plausible of the worst case scenarios, and try to come up with answers or strategies that will help you counteract them. Which risks are plausible enough that you should mitigate them? Which are you prepared to gamble on never happening? How will this risk calculus change as your company grows and takes on more exposure?
Doing this with your team will allow you all to practice the negative thinking mindset together and get a feel for how your colleagues in the security team might approach this request. (While this may seem similar to threat modelling exercises you might have done in the past, the focus here is on learning to adopt a security mindset and gaining empathy for this thought process, rather than running through a technical checklist of common areas of concern.)
While you still have your helmets within reach, use your negative thinking mindset to fill out the spreadsheet from the first piece in this series. This will help you anticipate most of the reasonable objections security might raise, and may help you include useful detail the security team might not have known to ask for.
Once you have prepared your list of answers to George’s worksheet and held a team Land Astronaut session together, you will have come most of the way to getting on board with the way your security team thinks.
Preparing for compromise
You’ve considered your options carefully, you’ve learned how to harness negative thinking to your advantage, and you’re ready to talk to your colleagues in security – but sometimes, even with all of these tools at your disposal, you may not walk away with all of the things you are hoping for.
Being willing to compromise and anticipating some of those compromises before you approach the security team will help you negotiate more successfully.
While your Land Astronaut helmets are still within reach, consider using your negative thinking mindset game to identify areas where you may be asked to compromise. If you’re asking for production access to this new service for observability and debugging purposes, think about what kinds of objections may be raised about this and how you might counter them or accommodate them. Consider continuing the activity with half of the team remaining in the Land Astronaut role while the other half advocates from a positive thinking standpoint. This dynamic will get you having conversations about compromise early on, so that when the security team inevitably raises eyebrows, you are ready with answers.
Be prepared to consider compromises you had not anticipated, and enter into discussions with the security team with as open a mind as possible. Remember the team is balancing priorities of not only your team, but other business and development teams as well. If you and your security colleagues are doing the hard work to meet each other halfway then you are more likely to arrive at a solution that satisfies both parties.
Working together for the long term
While the previous strategies we’ve covered focus on short-term outcomes, in this continuous-deployment, shift-left world we now live in, the best way to convince your security team of the benefits of a third-party service – or any other decision – is to have them along from day one, as part of the team.
Roles and teams are increasingly fluid and boundary-crossing, yet security remains one of the roles least likely to be considered for inclusion on a software development team. Even in 2019, the task of ensuring that your product and stack are secure and well-defended is often left until the end of the development cycle. This contributes a great deal to the combative atmosphere that is common.
Bringing security people into the development process much earlier builds rapport and prevents these adversarial, territorial dynamics. Consider working together to build Disaster Recovery plans and coordinating for shared production ownership.
If your organisation isn’t ready for that kind of structural shift, there are other ways to work together more closely with your security colleagues.
Try having members of your team spend a week or two embedded with the security team. You may even consider a rolling exchange – a developer for a security team member – so that developers build the security mindset, and the security team is able to understand the problems your team is facing (and why you are looking at introducing this new service).
At the very least, you should make regular time to meet with the security team, get to know them as people, and avoid springing things on them late in the project when change is hardest.
Riding off together into the sunset…?
If you’ve taken the time to get to know your security team and how they think, you’ll hopefully be able to get what you want from them – or perhaps you’ll understand why their objections were valid, and come up with a better solution that works well for both of you.
Investing in a strong relationship between your development and security teams will rarely lead to the apocalypse. Instead, you’ll end up with a better product, probably some new work friends, and maybe an exciting idea for a boundary-crossing new career in tech.
But this story isn’t over! Once you get the green light from security, you’ll need to think about how to roll your new service out safely, maintain it, and consider its full lifespan within your company. Which leads us to part three of this series, on rolling it out and maintaining it … both your integration and your relationship with the security team.
Lilly Ryan is a pen tester, Python wrangler, and recovering historian from Melbourne. She writes and speaks internationally about ethical software, social identities after death, teamwork, and the telegraph. More recently she has researched the domestic use of arsenic in Victorian England, attempted urban camouflage, reverse engineered APIs, wielded the Oxford comma, and baked a really good lemon shortbread.
Last night I was out with a dear friend who has been an engineering manager for a year now, and by two drinks in I was rattling off a long list things I always say to newer engineering managers.
Then I remembered: I should write a post! It’s one of my goals this year to write more long form instead of just twittering off into the abyss.
There’s a piece I wrote two years ago, The Engineer/Manager Pendulum, which is probably my all time favorite. It was a love letter to a friend who I desperately wanted to see go back to engineering, for his own happiness and mental health. Well, this piece is a sequel to that one.
It’s primarily aimed at new managers, who aren’t sure what their career options look like or how to evaluate the opportunities that come their way, or how it may expand or shrink their future opportunities.
The first fork in the manager’s path
Every manager reaches a point where they need to choose: do they want to manage engineers (a “line manager”), or do they want to try to climb the org chart? — manage managers, managers of other managers, even other divisions; while being “promoted” from manager to senior manager, director to senior director, all the way up to VP and so forth. Almost everyone’s instinct is to say “climb the org chart”, but we’ll talk about why you should be critical of this instinct.
They also face a closely related question: how technical do they wish to stay, and how badly do they care?
Are you an “engineering MANAGER” or an “ENGINEERING manager”?
These are not unlike the decisions every engineer ends up making about whether to go deep or go broad, whether to specialize or be a generalist. The problem is that both engineers and managers often make these career choices with very little information — or even awareness that they are doing it.
And managers in particular then have a tendency to look up ten years later and realize that those choices, witting or unwitting, have made them a) less employable and b) deeply unhappy.
Lots of people have the mindset that once they become an engineering manager, they should just go from gig to gig as an engineering manager who manages other engineers: that’s who they are now. But this is actually a very fragile place to sit long-term, as we’ll discuss further on in this piece.
But let’s start at to the beginning, so I can speak to those of you who are considering management for the very first time.
“So you want to try engineering management.”
COOL! I think lots of senior engineers should try management, maybe even most senior engineers. It’s so good for you, it makes you better at your job. (If you aren’t a senior engineer, and by that I mean at least 7+ years of engineering experience, be very wary; know this isn’t usually in your best interest.)
Hopefully you have already gathered that management is a career change, not a promotion, and you’re aware that nobody is very good at it when they first start.
That’s okay! It takes a solid year or two to find new rhythms and reward mechanisms before you can even begin to find your own voice or trust your judgment. Management problems look easy, deceptively so. Reasons this is hard include:
Most tech companies are absolutely abysmal at providing any sort of training or structure to help you learn the ropes and find your feet.
Even if they do, you still have to own your own careerdevelopment. If learning to be a good engineer was sort of like getting your bachelor’s, learning to be a good manager is like getting your PhD — much more custom to who you are.
It will exhaust you mentally and emotionally in the weirdest ways for much longer than you think it should. You’ll be tired a lot, and you’ll miss feeling like you’re good at something (anything).
This is because you need to change your habits and practices, which in turn will actually change who you are. This takes time. Which is why …
The minimum tour of duty as a new manager is two years.
If you really want to try being a manager, and the opportunity presents itself, do it! But only if you are prepared to fully commit to a two year long experiment.
Commit to it like a proper career change. Seek out new peers, find new heroes. Bring fresh eyes and a beginner’s mindset. Ask lots of questions. Re-examine every one of your patterns and habits and priorities: do they still serve you? your team?
Don’t even bother thinking about in terms of whether you “enjoy managing” for a while, or trying to figure out if you are are any good at it. Of course you aren’t any good at it yet. And even if you are, you don’t know how to recognize when you’ve succeeded at something, and you haven’t yet connected your brain’s reward systems to your successes. A long stretch of time without satisfying brain drugs is just the price of admission if you want to earn these experiences, sadly.
It takes more than one year to learn management skills and wire up your brain to like it. If you are waffling over the two year commitment, maybe now is not the time. Switching managers too frequently is disruptive to the team, and it’s not fair to make them report to someone who would rather be doing something else or isn’t trying their ass off.
It takes about 3-5 years for your skills to deteriorate.
So you’ve been managing a team for a couple years, and it’s starting to feel … comfortable? Hey, you’re pretty good at this! Yay!
With a couple of years under your belt as a line manager, you now have TWO powerful skill sets. You can build things, AND you can organize people into teams to build even bigger things. Right now, both sets are sharp. You could return to engineering pretty easily, or keep on as a manager — your choice.
But this state of grace doesn’t last very long. Your technical skills stop advancing when you become a manager, and instead begin eroding. Two years in, you aren’t the effective tech lead you once were; your information is out of date and full of gaps, the hard parts are led by other people these days.
More critically, your patterns of mind and habits shift over time, and become those of a manager, not an engineer. Consider how excited an engineer becomes at the prospect of a justifiable greenfield project; now compare to her manager’s glum reaction as she instinctively winces at having to plan for something so reprehensibly unpredictable and difficult to estimate. It takes time to rewire yourself back.
If you like engineering management, your tendency is to go “cool, now I’m a manager”, and move from job to job as an engineering manager, managing team after team of engineers. But this is a trap. It is not a sound long term plan. It leads too many people off to a place they never wanted to end up: technically sidelined.
Why can’t I just make a career out of being a combo tech lead+line manager?
One of the most common paths to management is this: you’re a tech lead, you’re directing ever larger chunks of technical work, doing 1x1s and picking up some of the people stuff, when your boss asks if you’d like to manage the team. “Sure!”, you say, and voila — you are an engineering manager with deep domain expertise.
But if you are doing your job, you begin the process of divesting yourself of technical leadership responsibilities starting immediately. Your own technical development should screech to a halt once you become a manager, because you have a whole new career to focus on learning.
Your job is to leverage that technical expertise to grow your engineers into great senior engineers and tech leads themselves. Your job is not to hog the glory and squat on the hard problems yourself, it’s to empower and challenge and guide your team. Don’t suck up all the oxygen: you’ll stunt the growth of your team.
But your technical knowledge gets dated, and your skills atrophy.. The longer it’s been since you worked as an engineer, the harder it will be to switch back. It gets real hard around three years, and five years seems like a tipping point.
And because so much of your credibility and effectiveness as an engineering leader comes from your expertise in the technology that your team uses every day, ultimately you will be no longer capable of technical leadership, only people management.
On being an “engineering manager” who only does people management
I mean, there’s a reason we don’t lure good people managers away from Starbucks to run engineering teams. It’s the intersection and juxtaposition of skill sets that gives engineering managers such outsize impact.
The great ones can make a large team thrum with energy. The great ones can break down a massive project into projects that challenge (but do not overwhelm) a dozen or more engineers, from new grads to grizzled veterans, pushing everyone to grow. The great ones can look ahead and guess which rocks you are going to die on if you don’t work to avoid them right now.
The great ones are a treasure: and they are rare. And in order to stay great, they regularly need to go back to the well to refresh their own hands-on technical abilities.
There is an enormous demand for technical engineering leaders — far more demand than supply. The most common hackaround is to pair a people manager (who can speak the language and knows the concepts, but stopped engineering ages ago) with a tech lead, and make them collaborate to co-lead the team. This unwieldy setup often works pretty well.
But most of those people managers didn’t want or expect to end up sidelined in this way when they were told to stop engineering.
If you want to be a pure people manager and not do engineering work, and don’t want to climb the ladder or can’t find a ladder to climb, more power to you. I don’t know that I’ve met many of these people in my life. I have met a lot of people in this situation by accident, and they are always kinda angsty and unhappy about it. Don’t let yourself become this person by accident. Please.
Which brings me to my next point.
You will be advised to stop writing code or engineering.
Everybody’s favorite hobby is hassling new managers about whether or not they’ve stopped writing code yet, and not letting up until they say that they have. This is a terrible, horrible, no-good VERY bad idea that seems like it must originally have been a botched repeating of the correct advice, which is:
Stop writing code and engineering
in the critical path
Can you spot the difference? It’s very subtle. Let’s run a quick test:
Authoring a feature? ⛔️
Covering on-call when someone needs a break? ✅
Diving on the biggest project after a post mortem? ⛔️
Code reviews? ✅
Picking up a p2 bug that’s annoying but never seems to become top priority? ✅
Insisting that all commits be gated on their approval? ⛔️
Cleaning up the monitoring checks and writing a library to generate coverage? ✅
The more you can keep your hands warm, the more effective you will be as a coach and a leader. You’ll have a richer instinct for what people need and want from you and each other, which will help you keep a light touch. You will write better reviews and resolve technical disputes with more authority. You will also slow the erosion and geriatric creep of your own technical chops.
I firmly believe every line manager should either be in the on call rotation or pinch hit liberally and regularly, but that’s a different post.
Technical Leadership track
If you love technology and want to remain a subject-matter expert in designing, building and shipping cutting-edge technical products and systems, you cannot afford to let yourself drift too far or too long away from hands-on engineering work. You need to consciously cultivate your path , probably by practicing some form of the engineer/manager pendulum.
If you love managing engineers — if being a technical leader is a part of your identity that you take great pride in, then you must keep up your technical skills and periodically invest in your practice and renew your education. Again: this is simply the price of admission. You need to renew your technical abilities, your habits of mind, and your visceral senses around creating and maintaining systems. There is no way to do this besides doing it. If management isn’t a promotion, then returning to hands-on work isn’t a demotion, either. Right?
One warning: Your company may be great, but it doesn’t exist for your benefit. You and only you can decide what your needs are and advocate for them. Remember that next time your boss tries to guilt you into staying on as manager because you’re so badly needed, when you can feel your skills getting rusty and your effectiveness dwindling. You owe it to yourself to figure out what makes you happy and build a portfolio of experiences that liberate you to do what you love. Don’t sacrifice your happiness at the altar of any company. There are always other companies.
Honestly, I would try not to think of yourself as a manager at all: you are an “engineering leader” performing a tour of duty in management. You’re pursuing a long term strategy towards being a well-respected technologist, someone who can sling code, give informed technical guidance and explain in detail customized for to anyone at any level of sophistication.
Organizational Leadership Track
Most managers assume they want to climb the ladder. Leveling up feels like an achievement, and that can feel impossible to resist.
Resist it. Or at least, resist doing it unthinkingly. Don’t do it because the ladder is there and must be climbed. Know as much as you can about what you’re in for before you decide it’s what you want.
Here are a few reasons to think critically about climbing the ladder to director and executive roles.
Your choices shrink. There are fewer jobs, with more competition, mostly at bigger companies. (Do you even like big companies?)
You basically need to do real time at a big company where they teach effective management skills, or you’ll start from a disadvantage.
Bureaucracies are highly idiosyncratic, skills and relationships may or may not transfer with you between companies. As an engineer you could skip every year or two for greener pastures if you landed a crap gig. An engineer has … about 2-3x more leeway in this regard than an exec does. A string of short director/exec gigs is a career ender or a coach seat straight to consultant life.
You are going to become less employable overall. The ever-higher continuous climb almost never happens, usually for reasons you have no control over. This can be a very bitter pill.
Your employability becomes more about your “likability” and other problematic things. Your company’s success determines the shape of your career much more than your own performance. (Actually, this probably begins the day you start managing people.)
Your time is not your own. Your flaws are no longer cute. You will see your worst failings ripple outward and be magnified and reflected. (Ditto, applies to all leaders but intensifies as you rise.)
You may never feel the dopamine hit of “i learned something, i fixed something, i did something” that comes so freely as an I.C. Some people learn to feel satisfaction from managery things, others never do. Most describe it as a very subdued version of the thrill you get from building things.
You will go home tired every night, unable to articulate what you did that day. You cannot compartmentalize or push it aside. If the project failed for reasons outside your control, you will be identified with the failure anyway.
Nobody really thinks of you as a person anymore, you turn into a totem for them to project shit on. (Things will only get worse if you hit back.) Can you handle that? Are you sure?
It’s pretty much a one-way trip.
Sure, there are compensating rewards. Money, power, impact. But I’m pointing out the negatives because most people don’t stop to consider them when they start saying they want to try managing managers. Every manager says that.
The mere existence of a ladder compels us all to climb.
I know people who have climbed, gotten stuck, and wished they hadn’t. I know people who never realized how hard it would be for them to go back to something they loved doing after 5+ years climbing the ladder farther and farther away from tech. I know some who are struggling their way back, others who have no idea how or where to start. For those who try, it is hard.
You can’t go back and forth from engineering to executive, or even director to manager, in the way you can traverse freely between management and engineering as a technologist.
I just want more of you entering management with eyes wide open. That’s all I’m saying.
If you don’t know what you want, act to maximize your options.
Engineering is a creative act. Managing engineers will require your full attentive and authentic self. You will be more successful if you figure out what that self is, and honor its needs. Try to resist the default narratives about promotions and titles and roles, they have nothing to do with what satisfies your soul. If you have influence, use it to lean hard against things like paying managers more than ICs of the same level.
It’s totally normal not to know who you want to be, or have some passionate end goal. It’s great to live your life and work your work and keep an eye out for interesting opportunities, and see what resonates. It’s awesome when you get asked to step up and opportunistically build on your successes.
If you want a sustainable career in tech, you are going to need to keep learning your whole life. The world is changing much faster than humans evolved to naturally adapt, so you need to stay a little bit restless and unnaturally hungry to succeed in this industry.
The best way to do that is to make sure you a) know yourself and what makes you happy, b) spend your time mostly in alignment with that. Doing things that make you happy give you energy. Doing things that drain you are antithetical to your success. Find out what those things are, and don’t do them.
Don’t be a martyr, don’t let your spending habits shackle you, and don’t build things that trouble your conscience.
And have fun.
Yours in inverting $(allthehierarchies),
 Important point: I am not saying you can’t pick up the skills and patience to practice engineering again. You probably can! But employers are extremely reluctant to pay you a salary as an engineer if you haven’t been paid to ship code recently. The tipping point for hireability comes long before the tipping point for learning ability, in my experience.
 It is in no one’s best interest for money to factor into the decision of whether to be a manager or not. Slack pays their managers LESS than engineers of the same level, and I think this is incredibly smart: sends a strong signal of servant leadership.
The company is growing like crazy, your engineering team keeps rising to the challenge, and you are ferociously proud of them. But some cracks are beginning to show, and frankly you’re a little worried. You have always advocated for engineers to have broad latitude in technical decisions, including choosing languages and tools. This autonomy and culture of ownership is part of how you have successfully hired and retained top talent despite the siren song of the Faceboogles.
But recently you saw something terrifying that you cannot unsee: your company is using all the languages, all the environments, all the databases, all the build tools. Shit!!! Your ops team is in full revolt and you can’t really blame them. It’s grown into an unsupportable nightmare and something MUST be done, but you don’t know what or how — let alone how to solve it while retaining the autonomy and personal agency that you all value so highly.
I hear a version of this everywhere I’ve gone for the past year or two. It’s crazy how often. I’ve been meaning to write my answer up for ages, and here it (finally) is.
First of all: you aren’t alone. This is extremely common among high-performing teams, so congratulations. Really!
There actually seems to be a direct link between teams that give engineers lots of leeway to own their technical decisions and that team’s ability to hire and retain top-tier talent, particularly senior talent. Everything is a tradeoff, obviously, but accepting somewhat more chaos in exchange for a stronger sense of individual ownership is usually the right one, and leads to higher-performing teams in the long run.
Second, there is actually already a well-trod path out of this hole to a better place, and it doesn’t involve sacrificing developer agency. It’s fairly simple! Just five short steps, which I will describe to you now.
How to build a golden path and reverse software sprawl
Assemble a small council of trusted senior engineers.
Task them with creating a recommended list of default components for developers to use when building out new services. This will be your Golden Path, the path of convergence (and the path of least resistance).
Tell all your engineers that going forward, the Golden Path will be fully supported by the org. Upgrades, patches, security fixes; backups, monitoring, build pipeline; deploy tooling, artifact versioning, development environment, even tier 1 on call support. Pave the path with gold. Nobody HAS to use these components … but if they don’t, they’re on their own. They will have to support it themselves.
Work with team leads to draw up an umbrella plan for adopting the Golden Path for their current projects as well as older production services, as much as is reasonable or possible or desirable. Come up with a timeline for the whole eng org to deprecate as many other tools as possible. Allocate real engineering time to the effort. Hell, make a party out of it!
After the cutoff date (and once things have stabilized), establish a regular process for reviewing and incorporating feedback about the blessed Path and considering any proposed changes, additions or removals.
There you go. That’s it. Easy, right??
(It’s not easy. I never said it was easy, I said it was simple. 👼🏼)
Your engineers are currently used to picking the best tool for the job by optimizing locally. What data store has a data model that is easiest for them to fit to their needs? Which language is fastest for I/O throughput? What are they already proficient in? What you need to do is start building your muscles for optimizing globally. Not in isolation of other considerations, but in conjunction with them. It will always be a balancing act between optimizing locally for the problem at hand and optimizing globally for operability and general sanity.
(Oh, incidentally, requiring an engineer to write up a proposal any time they want to use a non-standard component, and then defend their case while the council grills them in person — this will be nothing but good for them, guaran-fucking-teed.)
Let’s go into a bit more detail on each of the five points. But quick disclaimer: this is not a prescription. I don’t know your system, your team, your cultural land mines or technical interdependencies or anything else about your situation. I am just telling stories here.
1. Assemble your council
Three is a good number for a council. More than that gets unwieldy, and may have trouble reaching consensus. Less than three and you run into SPOFs. You never want to have a single person making unilateral decisions because a) the decision-making process will be weaker, b) it sets that person up for too much interpersonal friction, and c) it denies your other engineers the opportunity to practice making these kinds of decisions.
Your council members need technical breadth more than depth, and should be widely respected by engineers.
At least one member should have a long history with the company so they know lots of stupid little details about what’s been tried before and why it failed.
At least one member should be deeply versed in practical data and operability concerns.
They should all have enough patience and political skill to drive consensus for their decisions. Absolutely no bombthrowers.
If you’re super lucky, you just tap the three senior technologists who immediately come to mind … your mind and everyone else’s. If you don’t have this kind of automatic consensus, you may want to let teams or orgs nominate their own representative so they feel they have some say.
2. Task the council with defining a Golden Path
Your council cannot vanish for a week and then descend from the mountain lugging lists engraved on stone tablets. The process of discovery and consensus is what validates the result.
The process must include talking to and gathering feedback from your engineers, talking to experts outside the company, talking to teams at other companies who are farther along using that technology, coming up with detailed pro/con lists and reasons for their choices. Maybe sometimes it includes prototyping something or investigating the technical depths … but yeah no mostly it’s just the talking.
You need your council members to have enough political skill to handle these conversations deftly, building support and driving consensus through the process. Everybody doesn’t have to love the outcome, but it shouldn’t be a *surprise* to anyone by the end.
3. Know where you’re going
Your council should create a detailed written plan describing which technologies are going to be supported … and a stab at what “supported” means. (Ask the experts in each component what the best practices are for backups, versioning, dependency management, etc.)
You might start with something like this:
* Backend lang: Go 1.11 ## we will no longer be supporting
backend scripting languages
* Frontend lang: ReactJS v 16.5
* Primary db: Aurora v 2.0 ## Yes, we know postgres is "better",
but we have many mysql experts and 0 pg experts except the one guy
who is going to complain about this. You know who you are.
* Deploy pipeline: github -> jenkins + docker -> S3 -> custom k8s
* Message broker: kafka v 2.10, confluent build
* Mail: SES
* .... etc
Circulate the draft regularly for feedback, especially with eng managers. Some team reorganization will probably be necessary to bear the new weight of your support specifications, and managers will need some lead time to wrangle this.
This is also a great time to reconceive of the way on call works at your company. But I am not going to go into all that here.
4. Set a date, draft a plan: go!
Get approval from leadership to devote a certain amount of time to consolidating your stack and paying down a lump sum of tech debt. It depends on your stage of decay, but a reasonable amount of time might be “25% of engineering time for three months“. Whatever you agree to, make sure it’s enough to make the world demonstrably better for the humans who run it; you don’t want to leave them with a tire fire or you’ll blow your credibility.
The council and team leads should come up with a rough outer estimate for how long it would take to rewrite everything and move the whole stack on to the Golden Stack. (It’s probably impossible and/or would take years, but that’s okay.) Next, look for the quick wins or swollen, inflamed pain points.
If you are running two pieces of functionally similar software, like postgres and mysql, can you eliminate one?
If you are managing something yourself that AWS could manage for you (e.g. postfix instead of SES, or kafka instead of kinesis), can you migrate that?
If you are managing anything yourself that is not core to your business value, in fact, you should try to not manage it.
If you are running any services by hand on an AWS instance somewhere, could you try using a service?
If you are running your own monitoring software, etc … can you not?
If you have multiple versions of a piece of software, can you upgrade or consolidate on one version?
The hardest parts are always going to be the ones around migrating data or rewriting components. Not everything is worth doing or can afford to be done in the time span of your project time, and that’s okay.
Next, brainstorm up some carrots. Can you write templates so that anybody who writes a service using your approved library, magically gets monitoring checks without having to configure anything? Can you write a wrapper so they get a bunch of end-to-end tests for free? Anything you can do to delight people or save them time and effort by using your preferred components is worth considering.
(By the way, if you don’t have any engineers devoted to internal tooling, you’re probably way overdue at this point.)
Pay down as much debt as you can, but be pragmatic: it’s better to get rid of five small things than one large thing, from a support perspective. Your main goal is to shrink the number of types of software your team has to support, particularly databases.
Do look for ways to make it fun, like … running a competition to see who can move the most tools to AWS in a week, or throwing a hack week party, or giving dorky prizes like trophies that entitle you to put your manager on call instead of you for a day, etc.
5. Make the process sustainable
After your target date has come and gone, you probably want to hold a post mortem retrospective and do lots of listening. (Well — first might I recommend a bubble bath and a bottle of champagne? But then a post mortem.)
Nothing is ever fixed forever. The company’s needs are going to expand and contract, and people will come and go, because change is the only constant. So you need to bake some flex into your system. How are you going to handle the need for changes to the Golden Path? Monthly discussions? An email list? Quarterly meetings with a formal agenda? I’ve seen people do all of these and more, it doesn’t really matter afaict.
Nobody likes a cabal, though, so the original council should gradually rotate out. I recommend replacing one person at a time, one per quarter, and rotating in another senior engineer in their place. This provides continuity while giving others a chance to learn these technical and political skills.
In the end, engineers are still free to use any tool or component at any time, just like before, only now they are solely responsible for it, which puts pressure on them not to do it unless REALLY necessary. So if someone wants to propose adding a new tool to the default golden path, they can always add it themselves and gain some experience in it before bringing it to the council to discuss a formal place for it.
That’s all folks
See, wasn’t that simple?
(It’s never simple.)
I dearly wish more people would write up their experiences with this sort of thing in detail. I think engineering teams are too reluctant to show their warts and struggles to the world — or maybe it’s their executives who are afraid? Dunno.
Regardless, I think it’s actually a highly effective recruiting tool when teams aren’t afraid to share their struggles. The companies that brag about how awesome they are are the ones who come off looking weak and fragile. Whereas you can always trust the ones who are willing to laugh about all the ways they screwed up. Right?
In conclusion, don’t feel like an asshole for insisting on some process here. There should be friction around adding new components to your stack. (Add in haste, repent at leisure, as they say.) Anybody who argues with you probably needs to be exposed to way, way more of the support load for that software. That’s my professional opinion.
Anyway. You win or you die. Good luck with your sprawl.
“How can I learn to be a better manager? I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“I’m a tech lead, and responsible for shipping large projects, but all of my power is informal. How do I get people to listen to me and do what I need them to?”
“As a manager, I don’t feel safe talking to anyone about my work problems. What if it gets passed around as gossip?”
Leadership is such a weird thing. Leadership is something every one of us does more and more of as we get older and more experienced, but mostly you learn leadership lessons from trial and error and failing a lot. Which is too bad when you’re doing something you really care about, for the first time.
(Like starting a company.)
I’ve read books on leadership. I’ve been semi-consensually subjected to management training, I’ve had coaches, I’ve tried therapy and mentors. Most of this has been impressively (and expensively) unhelpful.
There’s only one thing that has reliably accelerated my development as a leader or manager, and that is forming bonds and swapping stories with my peers.
Stories are power tools.
A story is a tool. The more stories you have about how other people have solved a problem like yours, the more tools you have.
People are very complicated puzzles, and the more tools you have the more likely you are to find a tool that works.
Unlike management books which speak in abstractions and generalities, stories are real and specific. When you have the storyteller in front of you, you can drill down and find out more about how the situation was like your own or not, and what they wish they’d done in retrospect.
Details matter. Context matters.
Sometimes all you really need is a sympathetic ear to listen and make murmuring noises of encouragement while you work it out yourself out loud. Sometimes they have grappled with a similar situation and can tell you how it all worked out, what they wish they’d known. Sometimes they will cut you off and tell you to quit feeling sorry for yourself or sabotaging yourself.. if you’re lucky.
Peers?? Why not a ‘mentor’?
No insult meant to anyone who gets a lot out of mentoring, but it isn’t really my bag. I’ve always had.. let’s say issues with authority. Which is a nice way of saying “never met a power structure I didn’t simultaneously want to crush and invert”. So I prefer the framing of “peers” over even the relatively tame hierarchy of the mentor-mentee relationship.
I mean, one-way relationships are fucked up. Lots of my peers are more junior than me and some are more senior, yet somehow we all manage to be givers as well as takers. And if you’re both giving support and receiving it, then what the fuck do you need different roles like mentor and mentee?
I don’t want to be someone’s mentor. I want to be their friend and to sometimes be helpful. I don’t want to be someone’s “mentee” either, that makes me feel like their charity case (ha ha).
But friends and peers? Those just make my life better and awesomer.
From each according to their ability, to each according to their need.
The first year or two of honeycomb, I had a small list of friends who I got dinner or drinks with once a month like clockwork. Most of them were founders or execs or had been at one point, so they knew how depressed I was without needing to say so.
They listened to my stories (even though I was terrible company), and shared plenty of their own. They just kept showing up, reminding me to sleep, asking if they could help, not taking it personally whatever state I was in.
These friendships carried me through some dark times. When Christine’s role required her to level up at leadership skills, I encouraged her to get some peers too. And that’s when I began to realize some of the limitations of the 1×1 model: it’s very time consuming, and doesn’t scale well.
But hey! scaling problems are fun. 😀 I decided to pull together a peer group where people could come together and give and get support all at the same time.
(Actually two groups. One for me, one for Christine, so we could complain about each other in proper peace and privacy.)
Practicing vulnerability, establishing intimacy.
It took some time to assemble the right groups, but then we met weekly for 6 weeks straight, and after that roughly once a month for a year. The six starter weeks were intended to help us practice vulnerability and establish intimacy in a compressed time frame.
Last week was our one-year birthday.
There’s something sterile about management books and leadership material, something that makes it hard for me to emotionally connect my problems to the solutions they preach. I want advice from someone who knows me in all my strengths and weaknesses, who knows what advice I can take and perform authentically and what I can’t. Context matters. Who we are matters.
As word has started to get around about the group, sometimes people ask me about joining or how to form a group of their own. Turns out lots of people are hungry to get better at leadership, and there are precious few resources.
That’s why I decided to write up and publish my notes. Everything I learned along the way about how to run a tech leadership skill swap — the logistics, the facilitation, the homework, the ground rules. Who to invite. Recommended reading lists.
(It’s a little rough, but I positively cannot spare any more time.)
This shit is hard. You need a posse.
Would you like to run a tech leads skill swap? Please tell me if you do, I would love to know! I’m happy to help you get started with a phone call, if you want.
All I ask is that you try to pull together a posse that’s at least 50% women, queers, and other marginalized folks.
Good luck. ~charity
 I take a pretty expansive view of leadership. For example, an intern might exercise leadership in the vaunted area of database backups — just by volunteering to own backups, reliably performing said backups and serving as a point of coordination and education for how we do backups here at $corp.
If you have expertise and people rely on you for it, this is a legit form of influence and power … in other words, that’s leadership.
 A HUGE thanks to Rachel Chalmers for scribing a first draft of these notes, and to Kris for running the other group and contributing the homework sheet and stories of a related group at twitter.
On twitter this week, @srhtcn noted that “Many incidents happen during or right after release” and asked for advice on ways to fix this.
And he’s right! Rolling out new software is the proximate cause for the overwhelming majority of incidents, at companies of all sizes. Upgrading software is both a necessity and a minor insanity, considering how often it breaks things.
But it’s still risky. And most issues are still caused by humans and our pesky need for “improvements”. So what can be done?
It’s not ok for software releases to be scary and hazardous
First of all: If releasing is risky for you, you need to fix that. Make this a priority. Track your failures, practice post mortems, evaluate your on call practices and culture. Know if you’re getting better or worse. This is a project that will take weeks if not months until you can be confident in the results.
You have to fix it though, because these things are self-reinforcing. If shipping changes is scary and fraught, people will do it less and it will get even MORE scary and treacherous.
Likewise, if you turn it into a non-cortisol inducing event and set expectations, engineers will ship their code more often in smaller diffs and therefore break the world less.
Fixing deploys isn’t about eliminating errors, it’s about making your pipeline resilient to errors. It’s fundamentally about detecting common failures and recovering from them, without requiring human intervention.
Value your tools more
As an short term patch, you should run deploys in the mornings or whenever everyone is around and fresh. Then take a hard look at your deploy pipeline.
In too many organizations, deploy code is a technical backwater, an accumulation of crufty scripts and glue code, forked gems and interns’ earnest attempts to hack up Capistrano. It usually gives off a strong whiff of “sloppily evolved from many 2 am patches with no code review”.
This is insane. Deploy software is the most important software you have. Treat it that way: recruit an owner, allocate real time for development and testing, bake in metrics and track them over time.
If it doesn’t have an owner, it will never improve. And you will need to invest in frequent improvements even after you’re over this first hump.
Signal high organizational value by putting one of your best engineers on it.
Recruit help from the design side of the house as well. The “right” thing to do must be the fastest, easiest thing to do, with friendly prompts and good docs. No “shortcuts” for people to reach for at the worst possible time. You need user research and design here.
Track how often deploys fail and why. Managers should pay close attention to this metric, just like the one for people getting interrupted or woken up, and allocate time to fixing this early whenever it sags. Before it gets bad.
Allocate real time for development, testing, and training — don’t expect the work to get shoved into people’s “spare time” or post mortem cleanup time. Make sure other managers understand the impact of this work and are on board. Make this one of your KPIs.
In other words, make deploy tools a first class citizen of your technical toolset. Make the work prestigious and valued — even aspirational. If you do performance reviews, recognize the impact there.
(Btw, “how we hardened our deploys” is total Velocity-bait (&& other practitioner conferences) as well as being great for recruiting and general visibility in blog post form. People love these stories; there definitely aren’t enough of them.)
Turn software engineers into software owners
The canonical CI/CD advice starts with “ship early, ship often, ship smaller change sets”. That’s great advice: you should definitely do those things. But they are covered plenty elsewhere. What’s software ownership?
Software ownership is the natural end state of DevOps. Software engineers, operations engineers, platform engineers, mobile engineers — everyone who writes code should be own the full lifecycle of their software.
Software owners are people who:
Can deploy and roll back their own code
Are able to debug their own issues in prod (via instrumentation, not ssh)
If you’re lacking any one of those three ingredients, you don’t have ownership.
Why ownership? Because software ownership makes for better engineers, better software, and a better experience for customers. It shortens feedback loops and means the person debugging is usually the person with the most context on what has recently changed.
Some engineers might balk at this, but you’ll be doing them a favor. We are all distributed systems engineers now, and distributed systems require a much higher level of operational literacy. May as well start today.
Fail fast, fix fast
This is about shifting your mindset from one of brittleness and a tight grip, to one of flexibility where failures are no big deal because they happen all the time, don’t impact users, and give everyone lots of practice at detecting and recovering from them.
Here are a few of the best practices you should adopt with this practice.
The engineer who writes the code and merges the PR should also run the deploy
Everyone who writes code must be trained in how to deploy, roll back & revert to last known good state (before escalating if necessary). They should also know the basics of instrumentation, feature flagging and debugging in prod..
After deploying you MUST go verify: are your changes behaving as expected? Does anything else look .. unexpected? You have the most context on what to expect; just two minutes spent verifying that things look reasonable will catch the overwhelming majority of errors before users even notice.
Everyone who puts software in production needs to understand and feel responsible for the full lifecycle of their code, not just how it works in their IDE.
Baking: it’s not just for cookies
Shipping something to production is a process of incrementally gaining confidence, not a switch you can flip.
You can’t trust code until it’s been in prod a while, until you’ve seen it perform under a wide range of load and concurrency scenarios, in lots of partial failure modes. Only over time can you develop confidence in it not being terrible.
Nothing is production except production. Don’t rely on never failing; expect failure, embrace failure. Practice failure! Build guard rails around your production systems to help you find and fix problems quickly.
The changes you need to make your pipeline more resilient are roughly the same changes you need to safely test in production. These are a few of your guard rails.
Build canaries for your deploy process, so you can promote releases gracefully and automatically to larger subsets of your traffic as you gain confidence in them
Create cohorts. Deploy to internal users first, then any free tier, etc in order of ascending importance. Don’t jump from 10% to 25% to 50% and then 100% — some changes are related to saturating backend resources, and the 50%-100% jump will kill you.
Have robots check the health of your software as it rolls out to decide whether to promote the canary. Over time the robot checks will mature and eventually catch a ton of problems and regressions for you.
The quality of code is not knowable before it hits production. You may able to spot some problems, but you can never guarantee a lack of then. It takes time to bake a new release and gain incremental confidence in new code.
Get someone to own the deploy software
Value the work
Create a culture of software ownership
LOOK at what you’ve done after you do it
Be suspicious of new versions until they prove themselves
Two blog posts in one weekend! That’s definitely never happened before. Thanks to Baron for asking me to draft this up following the weekend’s twitter thread: https://twitter.com/mipsytipsy/status/1030340072741064704.
Let’s talk about influence. As an engineer, how do you get influence? What does influence look like, what is it rooted in, how do you wield it or lose it? How is it different from the power and influence you might have as a manager?
This often comes up in the context of ICs who desperately want to become managers in order tohave more access to information and influenceover decisions. This is a bad signal, though it’s sadly very common.
When that happens, you need to do some soul-searching. Does your org make space for senior ICs to lead and own decisions? Do you have an IC track that runs parallel to the manager track at least as high as director level? Are they compensated equally? Do youhave a career ladder? Are your decision-making processes mysterious to anyone who isn’t a manager? Don’t assume what’s obvious to you is obvious to others; you have to ask around.
If so, it’s probably their own personal baggage speaking. Maybe they don’t believe you. Maybe they’ve only worked in orgs where managers had all the power. Maybe they’ve even worked in lots of places that said the exact same things as you are saying about how ICs can have great impact, but it was all a lie and now they’re burned. Maybe they aren’t used to feeling powerful for all kinds of reasons.
Regardless, people who want to be managers in order to perpetuate a bad power structure are the last people you want to be managers.
But what does engineering influence look like? How do your powers manifest?
I am going to avoid discussing the overlapping and interconnected issues of gender, race and class, let’s just acknowledge that it’s much more structurally difficult for some to wield power than for others, ok?
The power to create
Doing is the engineering superpower. We create things with just a laptop and our brain! It’s incredible! We don’t have to constantly convince and cajole and coerce others into building on our behalf, we can just build.
This may seem basic, but it matters. Creation is the ur-power from which all our forms of power flow. Nothing gets built unless we agree to build it (which makes this an ethical issue, too).
Facebook had a poster that said “CODE WINS ARGUMENTS”. Problematic in many ways, absolutely. But how many times have you seen a technical dispute resolved by who was willing to do the work? Or “resolved” one way.. then reversed by doing? Doing ends debates. Doing proves theories. Doing is powerful. (And “doing” doesn’t only mean “write code”.)
Furthermore, building software is a creative activity, and doing it at scale is an intensely communal one. As a creative act, we are better builders when we are motivated and inspired and passionate about our work (as compared to say, chopping wood). And as a collaborative act, we do better work when we have high trust and social cohesion.
Engineering ability and judgment, autonomy and sense of purpose, social trust and cooperative behaviors: this is the raw stuff of great engineering. Everybody has a mode or two that they feel most comfortable and authoritative operating from: we can group these roughly into archetypes.
(Examples drawn from some of the stupendously awesome senior engineers I’ve gotten to work with over the years, as well as the ways I loved to fling my weight around as an engineer.)
Archetypes of influence
“Doing the work that is desperately hard and desperately needed — and often desperately dull.” SOC2 compliance, backups and restores, terrifying refactors, any auth integration ever: if it’s moving the business forward, they don’t give a shit how dull the work is. If you are this engineer, you have a deep well of respect and gratitude.
“Debugger of last resort.” Often the engineer who has been there the longest or originally built the system. If you are helpful and cheerful with your history and context, this is a huge asset. (People tend to wildly overestimate this person’s indispensability, actually; please don’t encourage this.)
The “expert” archetype is closely related. If you are the deep subject matter expert in some technology component, you have a shit ton of influence over anything that uses or touches that component. (You should stay up on impending changes to retain your edge.)
There are people who deliver a bafflingly powerful firehose of sustained output, sometimes making headway on multiple fronts at once. Some work long hours, others just have an unerring instinct for how to maximize impact (this sometimes maps to junior/senior manifestations). Nobody wants to piss off those people. Their consent is critical for … everything. Their participation will often turbo charge a project or pull a foundering effort over the finish line.
Not all influence is rooted in raw technical strength or output. Just a few of the wide variety of creative/collaborative/interpersonal strengths:
Some engineers are infinitely curious, and have a way of consistently sniffing a few steps ahead of the pack. They might seem to be playing around with something pointless, and you want to scold them; then they save your ass from total catastrophe. You learn to value their playing around.
Some engineers solve problems socially, by making friends and trading tips and fixes and favors in the industry. Don’t underestimate social debugging, it’s often the quickest path to the right answer.
Some are dazzlingly lazy and blow your mind with their elegant shortcuts and corners correctly cut.
Some are recruiting magnets, and it’s worth paying their salary just for all the people who want to work with them again.
Some are skilled at driving consensus among stakeholders.
Some are killer explainers and educators and storytellers.
Some are the senior engineer everyone silently wants to grow up to be.
Some can tell such an inspiring story of tomorrow that everyone will run off to make it so.
Some teach by turning code reviews into a pedagogical art form.
Some make everyone around them somehow more productive and effective. Some create relentless forward momentum. Some are good at saying no.
And there are a few special wells of power that bear calling out as such.
Engineers who have been managers are worth their weight in gold. They can translate business goals for junior engineers in their native language with impeccable credibility (something managers never really have, esp in junior engineers’ eyes.). They make strong tech leads, they can carve up projects into components that challenge but do not overwhelm each contributor while hitting deadlines.
Some engineers are a royal pain in the ass because they question and challenge every system and hierarchy. But these are sharp, powerful rocks that can polish great teams. Though they do require a strong manager, to channel t heir energy towards productive dialogue and improvement and keep them from pissing off the whole team.
And let’s not forget engineers who are on call. If you have a healthy on call culture,your ownership over production creates a deep, deep well of power and moral authority — to make demands, drive change, to prioritize. On call should not be a shit salad served up to those who can’t refuse, it should be a badge of honor and seriousness shouldered by every engineer who ships code. (And it should not be miserable or regularly life-impacting.)
… I could go on all day. Engineering is such a powerful role and skill set. It’s definitely worth unpacking where your own influence comes from, and understanding how others perceive your strengths.
Most forms of power boil down to “influence, wielded”.
But just banging out code is not enough. You may have credibility, but having it is not the same as using it. To transform influence into power you have to use it. And the way you use it is by communicating.
What’s locked up in your head has no impact on the rest of us. You have to get it out.
You can do this in lots of ways: by writing, in 1x1s, conversations with small groups, openly recruiting allies, convincing someone with explicit authority, broadcasting inpublic, etc.
Because engineering is a creative activity, authoritarian power is actually quite brittle and damaging. The only sustainable forms of power are so-called “soft powers” like influencing and inspiring, which is why good managers use their soft power freely and hard power sparingly/with great reluctance. If your leadership invokes authority on the regular, that’s an antipattern.
If you don’t speak up, you don’t have the right to sit and fume over your lack of influence. And speaking up does mean being vulnerable — and sometimes wrong — in front of other people.
This is not a zero-sum game.
Most of you have far more latent power than you realize or are used to wielding, because you don’t feel powerful or don’t recognize what you do in those terms.
Managers may have hard power and authority, but the real meaty decisions about technical delivery and excellence are more properly made by the engineers closest to them. These belong properly to the doers, in large part because they are the ones who have to support the consequences of these decisions.
Power tends to flow towards managers because they are privy to more information. That makes it important to hire managers who are aware of this and lean against it to push power back to others.
In the same way that submissives have ultimate power in healthy BDSM relationships, engineers actually have the ultimate power in healthy teams. You have the ultimate veto: you can refuse to create. Demand is high for your skills. You can usually afford to look for better conditions. Many of you probably should.
And when technical and managerial priorities collide, who wins? Ideally you work together to find the best solution for the business and the people. The teams that feel 🔥on fire🔥 always have tight alignment between the two.
Pick your battles.
One final thought. You can have a lot of say in what gets built and how it gets built, if you cultivate your influence and spend it wisely. But you can’t have a say in everything. It doesn’t work that way.
Think of it like @mcfunley’s famous “innovation tokens”, but for attention and fucks given.
The more you use your influence for good outcomes, the more you build up over time, yes … but it’s a precision tool, not background noise. Imagine someone trying to give you a massage by laying down on your whole back instead of pushing their elbow or hand into knots and trigger points. A too-broad target will diffuse your force and limit your potential impact.
Spend your attention tokens wisely.
And once you have influence, don’t forget to use it on behalf of others. Pay attention to those who aren’t being heard, and amplify their voices. Give your time, lend your patronage and credibility, and most of all teach the skills that have made you powerful to others who need them.
P.S. I owe a huge debt to all the awesome senior engineers i’ve gotten to work with. Mad love to you all. <3
 I successfully answered one (1) of these questions before running out of steam. Later.
 Sheepish confession: this is why I became a manager.
 It’s also a bad sign if they won’t grant any explicit authority to the people they hold responsible for outcomes. I’m talking about relatively healthy orgs here, not pathological ones where people (often women) are told they don’t need promotions or explicit authority, they should just use their “soft power” — esp when the hard forms of power aligned against with them. That’s setting you up for failure.
 Some people seem caught off guard by my use of “power” to signal anything other than explicit granted powers by the org. This doesn’t make any sense to me. I find it too depressing and disempowering to think of power as merely granted authority. It doesn’t map to how I experience the world, either. Individual clout is a thing that waxes and wanes and only exists in relation to others’. I’ve seen plenty of weak managers pushed around by strong personalities (which is terrible too).