Feedback Is Not a One-Way Mirror
Early in my management career, I assumed people gave feedback the way they wanted to receive it. That assumption broke down quickly. Humans aren’t pure functions — the same input doesn’t reliably produce the same output, especially when it comes to how people prefer to hear criticism versus how they deliver it.
The fix is simple in theory: ask. I now run an exercise where the team discusses how each member wants feedback delivered. It surfaces ideas and forces everyone to reflect on their own preferences. That kind of shared vulnerability beats a top-down directive.
In one-on-ones, I also ask directly whether they have feedback for me, and I follow up with an anonymous survey. That gives people an outlet for things they’re uncomfortable saying to my face. And when an issue does surface, I address it immediately. There’s nothing worse than learning your manager had a problem with your work months ago, especially when it only shows up in a performance review you couldn’t have influenced.
The honest caveat: my approach is imperfect. No two people or teams are alike. But the awkwardness of honest, timely feedback is where real growth happens.
Protecting People Is Not the Same as Developing Them
Years ago, I managed a bright, capable woman who was new to the industry and came across as timid. I acted as a shield, fighting battles behind the scenes to set her up for success. She was on track for a senior role, and when I left the company, I told her next manager she was ready soon.
When I met her years later, she never got the promotion. The team that inherited her had other priorities, and her advancement fell off the radar. But the deeper problem was mine: all that “protection” hadn’t taught her to advocate for herself or navigate the system. I never showed her how to succeed without me.
That was a hard lesson. If you care about your team, it feels natural to clear obstacles yourself. But that instinct can become an ego trip and stall growth. The better question is: what skills does this person need to succeed without me? Then teach those incrementally, woven into everyday work. It’s hard to do in the thick of things, but it’s the only way to build durable capability.
Repeat Yourself Until It Sticks
Saying something once is rarely enough. With a large group and a lot going on, things slip through cracks — repetition is the tool that makes things stick. The trick is repeating the same message through different channels and contexts.
Last year I asked my team to do something and no one did it. These were strong, efficient collaborators, so the common denominator was me. I wasn’t clear, and I didn’t align anyone with the why. People don’t prioritize tasks they don’t understand. Repeat the message and explain its importance, and you’ll get a different result.
Modern communication gives you plenty of ways to repeat without nagging: chat, email, video, docs, and more. Different people absorb information better in different media. Using a mix becomes a strategy, not a annoyance.
One practice that works well is letting people own the information. If you use career laddering, have each person read their ladder aloud in one-on-ones and walk you through their self-assessment. They’re not being lectured — they’re owning their progress while you guide.
You Don’t Have to Look Like You Have It All Together
Some people believe management means projecting a steel fortress of preparedness and authority. I’ve found the opposite works better.
When something goes wrong, would your team rather hear from the manager who never admits mistakes, or the one who owns them? You can’t fix problems you don’t know about, and no one will tell you if you don’t make space for honesty.
Once, the night before a major release, someone pushed a change that triggered tens of thousands of calls to a service, which interpreted it as a DDoS attack and shut down access. We could have panicked and blamed each other. Instead, we laughed, jumped on calls, fixed it, and moved on. That response built more trust than any flawless execution would have.
As the manager, being the first to show vulnerability sets the tone. Admit when you’re having a bad day, when you don’t understand something, or when you’ve made a mistake. It doesn’t need to be constant — just enough to make it safe for others.
This is genuinely harder for underrepresented minorities in tech, where an admitted mistake from one person reads as humility and from another as failure. I struggle with this myself. It’s okay to acknowledge that tension and feel out your own situation.
The Weight of Getting It Wrong
Management is tough because your mistakes impact real people, and that pressure can feel isolating. I’ve made all the mistakes above and expect to make more. Sharing them matters — not to claim expertise, but so we all feel less alone and have a path forward when we stumble.
