I’ve observed a trend in technical people.
There’s the work that we’re good at. Then, there’s the work that we love. In a world that is fair and beautiful, the Venn diagrams of these two categories complete a perfect circle.
Alas, we do not live in a perfect world.
For the driven, early career goals focus on expanding our competence circle. Engineers need skills, they need to demonstrate those skills, they need to earn their spot on the team, and they need to establish themselves. For a long time, a decade or two even, the acquisition of competence provides enough positive feedback to adequately satisfy both circles, competence leads to fulfillment. For some, this dynamic never shifts. They continue to dive deep, grow, learn ever-deepening skills, branch into new tech, and find satisfaction in this stream of work.
For others, technical competence follows a law of diminishing returns. They acquire skills such that they can do work in minutes and hours that take others days and weeks. At the same time, the work loses its fascination. It becomes, dare I say, boring. These skilled engineers work with such efficiency they become the de-facto owner of the work. They find themselves being the unenviable do-er of work they no longer find interesting.
Some accept their fate, they lean into their skills, continue to make quick work of tasks that are hard for everyone else, and become the “person” for that skill. For many, this is the path of least resistance. The work comes easily, they can do it in their sleep, they receive accolades, and they’re generally admired by junior people. The risks here are, at first, subtle but become more pronounced over time. First, there’s the boredom. The work isn’t interesting anymore. There’s also the risk that, over time, the particular skills have less value. The longer one identifies with a particular skillset — without substantive growth — the more difficult it becomes to change. One can find themselves in command of very specialized skills that have diminishing market value.
There are other options. For example, as an engineer you can resist the urge to become the de-facto owner of anything. As you develop deep skills, refuse to be the only person who owns that skill. The next time you get a request to “do your thing”, refuse to do it alone. Invite someone along by saying something like, “I think Michelle can help with this one. Why don’t we let her own the deliverable and I’ll be there to support her the whole time?” Note, that you’re not saying no to the request. Assuming Michelle is a bit junior, needs to learn the skills you have, and has the resources to work alongside you, it’s a win for everyone.
You’ll no longer be the only person who can complete the task, Michelle grows in her skills, and the business is no longer single-threaded. This takes discipline. The first time you bring along a peer, it will be more work for you. You’ll have to improve your processes and your documentation. You’ll have to iron out some of your personal quirks. In the long run, you’ll get to accomplish more and won’t be shackled to a particular skill.
To grow in your career, you will eventually reach the point at which individual improvement is no longer enough. Even if you remain an individual contributor, you must learn to make the people and systems around you better. Anyone who’s read “The Phoenix Project” knows the peril a Brent — the smart condescending, information-hoarding engineer — brings to an organization. It feels good to be the one with all the answers, until it doesn’t.
As you get better at enabling your peers, you’ll have opportunities to do more interesting things. Once you develop a pattern for learning hard things and teaching hard things, you will be more valuable — not less. You’ll have opportunities to explore and broaden your horizons. You won’t get trapped underneath the weight of your own competence.
The world of tech has no end. The depth and breadth are unquantifiable in every direction. The opportunities for gainful employment, however, are more nuanced. We each approach a unique confluence of technical, economic, business, geographic, and personal factors. For me, the clarifying question of my career has always been, “How can I help?” This personality trait has been fortuitous for me for a few reasons. First, it’s caused me to pursue work that has objective value to my employer and my team — for work to be helpful, it must be valuable. Also, when I know I’ve been helpful, the work feels meaningful. It’s made me more willing to shift my technical focus over time as the needs of my team, my employer, and the industry continue to change.
Your clarifying question may be different. Regardless, it’s important to understand what motivates you, what work you are great at, what work fulfills you, and what work will be needed in the future.
Chris Kane says
Thoughtful article. And a reminder to, dare I say, being uncomfortable by stretching ourselves and including others to do so with us.