The Inconvenience of Individuality

I've recently started a new job, which means I'm once again getting to know a new team. There's the usual onboarding activity, learning the business, figuring out who does what, trying to remember everyone's name, and discovering which meetings are actually necessary. That last one might take a while.

But the part I've always enjoyed most about joining a new organization is getting to know the people I'll be working with. Not just their responsibilities or the projects they're delivering, but who they are, what motivates them, what frustrates them, and what they want from their careers. I also want to understand how they prefer to work and, perhaps most importantly, what they need from me.

I've managed people for much of my career, across different countries, cultures, personalities, and disciplines. You'd think after all these years I'd have developed a finely tuned management style that works for everyone. A repeatable formula I could unpack whenever I inherit a new team, preferably accompanied by a PowerPoint presentation and a few inspirational quotes.

Unfortunately, people have this annoying habit of being different.

And that's precisely what makes managing them interesting.

The Lessons You Don't Expect

I've been fortunate to work for some genuinely exceptional leaders. People who challenged me, trusted me, gave me opportunities I probably wasn't entirely ready for, and helped me develop confidence in areas where I had very little. I still think about some of those people decades later, and I suspect they've had more influence on how I manage than they realize.

I've also worked for a few managers who provided an entirely different education.

One experience in particular taught me just how damaging leadership can become when a manager believes their approach is the only acceptable one. Their communication style, expectations, and methods weren't particularly open to discussion. If you struggled with the approach, the problem was apparently yours to solve. The manager wasn't going to change, so you'd better figure out how to make it work.

What made the situation particularly interesting was how the behavior was rationalized. Harshness could be explained away as honesty. Intimidation was simply a way of maintaining high standards. And if someone spoke to you in a manner that would make most reasonable adults reconsider their career choices, you were apparently supposed to interpret that as a sign of trust.

I must have been exceptionally trusted.

The longer I spent in that environment, the more I noticed how people adapted. Not necessarily in ways that made them better at their jobs, but in ways that helped them avoid becoming the next target. Conversations became carefully managed. Disagreement became increasingly rare. People learned which opinions were welcome and which were better kept to themselves.

Eventually, the manager was surrounded by people who appeared to agree with almost everything.

I doubt that was a coincidence.

The experience reinforced something I've come to believe quite strongly. When people are afraid to challenge you, you haven't created alignment. You've created an environment where agreement is the safest option, and that's a dangerous place for any organization to find itself.

Understanding the Individual

I don't believe there's a single management approach that works for everyone, although I've encountered plenty of managers who seem determined to prove otherwise.

Some people are happiest when you give them a challenging problem, point them in the general direction of the desired outcome, and get out of their way. Others prefer more frequent conversations, opportunities to validate their thinking, or additional guidance when they're working through something unfamiliar. Neither approach suggests anything about their competence or commitment. They're simply different people with different needs.

My natural inclination is to give people autonomy. I generally assume that the professionals working with me know how to do their jobs, and I see little value in hovering over their shoulders to confirm they're doing what we hired them to do. Besides, I've usually got enough of my own work to worry about without trying to do theirs as well.

But I've learned that autonomy isn't always the same thing as support. Someone who is comfortable operating independently might appreciate being left alone for a few weeks, while someone else might interpret that same silence as a lack of interest. The responsibility is mine to understand the difference.

That doesn't mean I abandon expectations or adjust standards depending on who I'm speaking with. Everyone deserves clarity about what's expected of them, honest feedback about their performance, and accountability for their commitments. What changes is how I help each person succeed.

There's a distinction between treating people fairly and treating them identically, and I think too many managers confuse the two.

Whose Career Is It Anyway?

The other thing I want to understand is where people want to go professionally. I've always enjoyed helping people develop, whether that means preparing for a leadership role, expanding their technical expertise, or exploring an entirely different direction.

But I've become increasingly uncomfortable with the assumption that everyone should be climbing some imaginary corporate ladder.

Not everyone wants to become a manager. Some of the most talented people I've worked with have absolutely no interest in managing other people. They love their craft, enjoy solving difficult problems, and want to keep getting better at what they do. Why would I insist that their next logical step involves performance reviews, budget discussions, and spending half their lives in meetings?

For some people, professional growth means promotion. For others, it means mastery, greater independence, or the opportunity to work on more interesting problems. And sometimes people are perfectly happy doing what they're doing, particularly when they've found a healthy balance between their careers and everything else that matters to them.

I don't consider that a lack of ambition.

My job isn't to impose my definition of success on someone else. It's to understand what success looks like to them and help them move toward it. Sometimes that means challenging someone to stretch beyond what they believe they're capable of. Other times, it means respecting that they're exactly where they want to be.

And yes, occasionally it means helping someone develop the skills that will eventually take them to another team or organization. I'd rather see someone grow beyond the opportunities I can provide than hold them back because replacing them would be inconvenient.

Still Learning

As I get to know my new team, I'm trying to approach those early conversations with curiosity rather than assumptions. I want to understand what's working, what's frustrating, what people have learned from customers, and what they'd change if they had the opportunity. But I also want to know what they enjoy, what they're hoping to accomplish, and how I can make their working lives a little better.

I'm sure I'll get some things wrong. Despite several decades of experience, I haven't discovered a magical ability to understand every personality immediately. I'll occasionally provide too much guidance when someone wanted less, or assume someone is comfortable with a level of independence they weren't quite ready for. When that happens, I hope they'll tell me, and I'll adjust.

That's the part of leadership I think matters most. Being willing to recognize that your approach isn't necessarily the right one for every situation or every person.

I've had managers who made a lasting difference in my career, and others who made me appreciate the first group considerably more. Both experiences shaped how I think about leadership, although I know which example I'd prefer to leave behind.

Years from now, I hope the people I've managed remember that I trusted them, challenged them, supported their ambitions, and genuinely cared about their growth. I don't expect everyone to agree with every decision I make, and I certainly don't expect everyone to work the way I do.

After all, I'm the one who signed up to manage people. Expecting every one of them to adapt to me seems like a pretty good way to avoid doing the job.

Wishing you all the best

Mike