Originally published at Traackr Engineering.
TL;DR: Growing up in an immigrant community in the New York Metro area, you never think the unique, random, and crazy experiences you have in such a setting could have a direct impact on your career in tech, until it does. And I’ve learned many lessons, and here’s one of them. If you get out of your own way, you along with your team, will accomplish great things.
Growing up, my family was quite plugged into a faith community that comprised mostly of recent immigrants to the United States from Egypt. Most of the non-liturgical music generated by the community was geared towards the ears and culture of those who immigrated here. I was part of a different generation, born in the USA, but very much Egyptian. It was very difficult to relate to some of the art and music that had been imported and shared with us.
By the time I got to high school, I had different ambitions than my peers. While most kids were out there being kids, I had felt a deep responsibility to help create art that we could connect with. After a few attempts, my work was often dismissed as dissenting, and non-adherent to our traditions. I stayed persistent, despite doors (sometimes literally) being closed in our faces. Despite the initial rejection by community leaders, our work was getting recognition. The youth of the New York/New Jersey metro area started to know and enjoy our music.
Making A Record
In college I had a new vision: an album. My hope was that it would be an album that would embody the values and essence of our traditions, while connecting them with the creation of something original that our generation could resonate with. I wanted to send a message that even though a ton of art and music was handed to us, that we could be empowered to become creators of art and music, ourselves!
I found an excellent team of like-minded individuals. We sought funding, and eventually partnered with a local church who liked our idea. They offered to bankroll an album, in exchange for inventory. This did mean however, that I did not have complete creative control over the outcome. (dun.dun.dunnnnn!)
While most of our ideas were welcomed, quite a few were met with concern. I was often asked to hold back, edit, or even omit, for the sake of not rocking the boat too much. I had to make a choice, was I going to “compromise” on our vision, or was I going to trust this collaboration with an outside partner? This partner was older, a lot more experienced, and had a perspective that was a lot broader than my own. He knew intimately the ins-and-outs of our community, across multiple generations. He obviously believed in me enough to work with me, but seemed to restrict what we were trying to create for reasons I couldn’t understand at the time.
There were moments I really wanted to lead and just create, yet felt like I had to be a team player, and there were a lot of reluctant compromises.
We powered through, and the record was produced. The end result surprised me, and was beyond what I could have imagined: two sold-out printings, and an east coast tour that lasted four years. In 2001, I even got a phone call from office of the Ambassador from Egypt to the United States. On behalf of His Excellency, the office invited us to perform at a gathering of dignitaries and officials from all over the world, at an event honoring the music of Egypt. It was pretty incredible and completely unexpected!
But aside from all this “big stuff” that I’m mentioning, it was the people-impact that mattered most to me. We met and received letters from youth all around the world, with stories about how our work had impacted them, or encouraged others to follow suit and create music of their own.
I am convinced that had it been all up to me, and my direction alone, we would not have had the impact we experienced. Another way to say this: if we did this alone, we would have had total creative freedom. But at the same time, we may have never had reached such broad audience. I was satisfied, although there was less “getting my way” and more “getting out of my own way”.
Ok, great. You may be reading this, and thinking “what on earth does this have to do with building software?” and my answer is: “Everything.”
“Don’t Throw The $necessary Out With The $unnecessary”
As a hot-headed 21 year old, although I was commitment to achieve something for my community, there was a blurred line between the overall desired outcome and the means to achieving that outcome. Art is highly personal. Making the art is as much of a goal as the outcome. If there was a particular song that was going to be cut from the record, or a direction that needed editing, I didn’t always handle it gracefully. I nearly quit the project until my mentor told me, “don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater”. I had no idea what he was talking about. Once it was explained to me, I thought that was the weirdest metaphor ever.
But if you replace baby and bathwater, with the necessary/unnecessary thing of your choosing, the lesson starts to take shape. I was given a choice, if I stayed in this partnership, would the vision still be achieved? As I looked around, and saw how much freedom we actually had, was I willing to throw the whole project out the window because of 1 or 2 cut songs? I eventually decided to trust, and to refocus my attention on the goal, and preserve the relationship through the details. Had I disengaged, or quit, I would have missed out on something huge. The proverbial baby would have been lost.
That piece of advice kept me in the game, but the actual lesson I needed to learn was one that has to do with the importance of “us” over “me”. It’s the fact that if I’m working on something with a group of people, it’s more important for us to be aligned than for each of us to do things their own way.
But, I’m an Artist and I Cannot Be Stifled!
They say that building software is an art. And there are a ton of similarities between those who make art, and those who write software. Unlike the building of a car or a house, where there are clear specifications for how each part comes together, building software retains the imprint of the developer. Even with strict team standards, the developer’s personal style finds its way into the code. By looking at a piece of code, I can usually tell who on my team wrote it. It’s why we say that we “write” software as opposed to “assemble” or “manufacture” it.
When Being Skilled Isn’t Enough
Unless you’re one of the unicorns of 1-2 person teams, who get acquired by multi-billion dollar corporations, it usually requires more than 1 or 2 engineers to create something that can see the light of day. Our VP of Engineering has a saying, “Software is a people endeavor”. We build software together. “Together” would mean, a group of people who have spent various durations of time (from months to decades) perfecting their craft, each with their own sense of “the right way” to do something.
Looking back at the production of that record, yes I had the skills and the expertise, but our partner had a much deeper understanding of our community I was serving. His perspective helped pave a way for this new thing to take root and land on listening ears. Together, we were able to create something that was familiar enough to be mostly* accepted, however different enough to challenge, inspire, and spark conversations among communities in our diaspora. Smart and talented people can accomplish some amazing things, but only if they’re aligned. Make no mistake, getting alignment is challenging.
* Actually, we got banned in one of the dioceses. I received a letter from a well-respected Bishop, telling me that our music was not allowed in any of the churches in his geography. While that may seem like a setback, at the time it reminded me that we didn’t keep it too safe.
Letting Go: Side-Effects May Include…
Getting on the same page as a group, requires individuals to give up a degree of control. This is required when building software as a team. Usually, letting-go is usually met with the acceptance that comes with being a professional. But software engineering often attracts people who put so much of themselves into their work. Because of this, letting-go can be met in with the following emotional responses:
- Frustration: Often times, including myself, I’ve witnessed engineers be frustrated when a particular course of action, or even a pull request, is not approved, or requires changes that would move the outcome in a completely different direction. You think to yourself, ”would the Sistine Chapel been what it was today had Michaelangelo been ruled by a committee?” Righteous indignation takes over, or maybe it’s the blow against one’s ego that can happen when work is challenged in its current state. Been there? I know I have.
- Apathy: Tables aren’t flipped, but hands are up in the air. (And I don’t mean this celebratory emoji 🙌.) Apathy leads to detaching from both the work and the goal. While the impact of this is not immediate as the previous item, it does make teams vulnerable to morale being slowly chipped away. This will have long-term and debilitating effects.
- Acceptance: There are others, however, who can remain detached enough from their work, but see it as part of a collective, and will welcome changes and advice, because ultimately, there’s a shared trust in the team, and a strong commitment to what the team is trying to achieve.
But Don’t Follow Blindly
We have to be aligned to make great things happen. And alignment means letting go. That’s not to say that blood doesn’t get spilled, or tears won’t flow. That should happen with a team of experienced individuals, however, there’s a mutual respect and striving for what’s best, collectively. And this sort of refinement by an engineer and their peers, can lead to some great outcomes. (I’m not advocating for decisions by consensus, but that’s another blog entry.)
As engineers who work on teams, we have to constantly manage an important balance. It’s one between what each of us brings based on our individual experiences, convictions, and baggage, with the roles we’re assigned, with the goals of the organizations we work for. Now there’s absolutely a place to draw some hard lines, and offer non-negotiables, when you see a particular course of action is going to put the big goal at risk. Those should be rare occurrences. Be sure you understand the difference between risks to the goal, vs. risks to the way you want to do things.
But There Is Hope: Some Helpful Tips
Having trouble letting-go? Like my experience with making music, and my experiences in the present: here are some strategies that help me do just that:
- Focus on the goal: The shared goal you and your team have, should be one that you really believe in. If you’re not on board with the goal, you may want to reconsider your employment situation. But let’s assume you’re still on board with what your team is trying to achieve. Having a larger goal that drives you is extremely important for satisfaction in one’s career. That goal has to sit a step beyond how you write code. Commit to a goal and it will help you entertain other possibilities of achieving it. This will make it possible to let go and try things a different way.
- Make it about the work: Don’t take things personally! It’s not about you, and most of the time, your team isn’t focused on you, it’s about the work. By having the discipline to not take things personally, you allow your team to challenge you, and then it builds trust that allows you to challenge your team. Because collectively you care about the same thing, the work.
- Get a hobby: Ok, so your team has a norm of doing very strict test-driven development. (I’ve been on such a team, before.) The engineering lead wants to see the tests written out before a single line of code is written. What a drag, right? You love building software by running and gunning it. So do that! Just don’t do it at work. By having interests and outlets outside of what you’re doing at work, allows you to get go of things that may be very personal to how you work, because you have other areas in life where you get to do these things. You can let go of the small stuff, so you and your team can work better together to achieve the big stuff!
Decades later, I barely remember the things I argued about while making that album. I value the music we made and the things we achieved so much more than what we had to lose. I tell this to all my fellow engineers out there who find themselves sometimes frustrated. In the constant negotiation and struggle, we hope to make each other become better engineers and help refine our individual an collective crafts. By staying committed to a bigger picture, we give ourselves a better chance to achieving the things we want to. And it goes back to an old proverb that has come across my path time and time again: alone, we can move quickly, but together, we can go far.