What are we if not what we are committed to?
I try to always keep my word on my commitments, particularly those to myself. I set the bar of writing once a week in this blog, sharing reflections on my professional life and—within my limits—entertaining and informing in the meantime.
This week has been a bit overwhelming. Nothing bad, just too many things in my head at all times, plus being hit with the flu, like 99% of Britain. Yet, I’m devoted to you, my imaginary audience, and I want to honour my word. Thus you find me here, writing late on a Sunday, trying to catch up on what should have been my weekly Friday post. Apologies.
I’ve recently taken on new responsibilities in my team, contributing to our young team’s effort to set sail toward success on a rather big (but not impossible) task. My new role has put me in a unique situation: I remain part of the engineering force of the squad while onboarding new members onto the XP principles and practices that we, the elders of the tribe, have been refining for quite some time. I also represent the technical vision of our Principal Engineer in daily decisions and support Team Management with many of the planning-related tasks they usually handle.
These last couple of weeks have brought great reflection and learning. I feel this is the first time these sorts of activities find me in a more mature and consolidated state of mind. Parenthood has definitely taught me tough lessons in patience and direction over the last couple of years, and although I’m still perfecting many areas of myself (and I hope to keep doing so until the day I die), I’ve found it interesting how each personality trait can either construct or destroy these well-intentioned interactions with the team.
I’m not going to focus on my team—I hope they read this, and I’m sure they wouldn’t find it amusing to see our daily interactions laid out here—but rather on myself growing as a leader. What does that mean? And, more importantly: what does it mean to me?
Why grow?
I remember this phrase from my Meta years: “Once you reach IC5, you don’t have to worry about promotions. You can stay an IC5 forever.” I remember that phrase being introduced as a refuge, a checkpoint in your career where you could save all your sonic-like “rings” and just set cruise control and coast.
Well, was that what I wanted? Definitely not. Was that a haven for me? Hell no. My Meta years were marked by impostor syndrome, and the idea of coasting made me extremely anxious. Not growing? Not learning anything new? Not helping others grow? Not leading?
Leading at Meta is a different chapter altogether. Engineers there were required to lead regardless of level, which caused me both anxiety and frustration, since nobody was particularly interested in helping me through the process. EMs matter a lot—I learned that the hard way.
Returning to the original question, I simply don’t have a personality that allows me to set myself to coast mode. I need challenges, I need motivation, I need impact in areas and products I’m passionate about, and I need to work with people who genuinely want to build something better than what we have today. Yes, we all like money, but for me it cannot be just about that. There has to be both a personal development path where I can see my progress and an impact I can be proud of. You may say I’m a dreamer—a romantic, perhaps.
That’s what motivates me about this role. It’s an opportunity to step outside my comfort zone—and I truly am outside of it. It pushes me toward areas of impact beyond what I am used to doing. I already know that I can code, that I bring good practices, and that I can implement XP principles in our codebase. I now need to prove to myself that I can help set a technical strategy and build toward it, that I can communicate my passion, and that I can assure my team we’re on the best path possible and that their effort is valuable.
What have I learned so far?
Well, it’s not easy. You can be very strong technically, but this is a different game. Not something I’m not enjoying—but certainly not easy.
When I was starting my career, one of my mottos was: “I’m doing this because I don’t like working with people.” Ha. Sorry, young Adrian, but you had absolutely no idea how much interpersonal interaction matters here.
I’m finding great pleasure in uncovering issues around our project, connecting with people from teams I had never even heard of, and becoming the link between our work and the value it brings to the organisation. I’m having a great time. But it’s hard. You have to put a lot of yourself into it. It’s not something you can manage like an insipid task and try to surf around with a bag of tricks you found on a website. You have to open up, be truly mindful of the other person’s motivations, and find affinity between sometimes completely disconnected visions of what a product is, so that you can align the pieces and keep the machine moving. It’s truly wearing.
Sometimes people say they prefer the IC path because management is “too many meetings.” They clearly haven’t engaged in this kind of IC work, that’s for sure.
Am I doing a good job? I’m getting good feedback, at least. My team seems to appreciate my input, even when I think I’ve messed up. My intention seems to come through despite the noise added by my lack of experience or a wrong approach. That must be good, right?
One thing I am proud of is that I am not feeling like an impostor. For someone who has suffered from this for far too long, it’s invigorating. There must be something fundamentally mine in these interactions that, although exhausting, feels fulfilling. Can I do better? Definitely. I am committed to continuing to learn through courses, reading, and—most importantly—messing up from time to time. Because we’re human, and that’s what we do to grow.