Tag: organizational development

Broken Procurement Is Costing You Talent: A Product Leader’s Playbook for Speed and Sanity

Procurement should accelerate value, not suffocate it. Listening to this episode, I found myself nodding (and wincing) through a painfully familiar story about how well-intended controls morph into barriers that keep great expertise out. As a product leader responsible for speed, outcomes, and brand experience, I see procurement as a direct mirror of culture—and an often overlooked part of the product operating system.

In the conversation, Teresa is cranky—and honestly, she has every right to be. She’s simultaneously juggling seven speaking engagement contracts, and six of them have become a part-time job in themselves—think 80-page ethics policies, 800-question security forms, and Multi-Factor Authentication (MFA) questions asked 17 different times. Meanwhile, the one company that just put her fee on a credit card? Scheduled, confirmed, and done in two weeks. That contrast is the whole story: friction repels talent; clarity and simplicity attract it.

Petra adds her own horror story—filling out 12 identical Word document forms—and together they surface a deeper truth I’ve seen across organizations: broken vendor processes don’t just frustrate consultants; they stop companies from getting the expertise they actually need. And despite what many assume, company size isn’t the deciding factor—leadership intent and process ownership are.

If you’ve ever wondered why a training got canceled, why a speaker backed out, or why your team can’t seem to bring in outside experts, this is likely the culprit: procurement theater. Repetitive forms, unbounded scope creep, and sprawling security reviews create drag that outlasts any short-term legal or compliance gain. The opportunity cost—lost learning, slower progress, and talent that simply says no—is enormous.

One detail that stood out: with CEO-level buy-in, a legal review timeline collapsed from four months to 10 days. I’ve seen the same thing. Executive sponsorship is the fastest procurement tool there is, and it reveals what the organization truly values. If you can compress the path when a leader cares, you can redesign the path so it’s always faster—without compromising real risk management.

I also loved the clarity of a simple policy from the episode: Teresa’s new policy is straightforward—her paperwork, credit card payment, no vendor setup—or no speaking engagement. That’s not obstinance; it’s a bright-line test for whether an organization respects expert time and understands total cost. The best experts have options, and friction filters them out first.

Here’s how I operationalize this in product-led organizations. Tier risk by engagement type (e.g., one-hour talk vs. long-term software vendor) and match the process to the risk. Offer a credit-card fast lane with standard, plain-English terms for low-risk work. Eliminate duplicate data entry and kill redundant questionnaires. Use a single, secure intake that auto-fills known fields. Track cycle time end to end, and publish SLAs for legal, InfoSec, and finance. Most importantly, make vendor experience a first-class metric—because it is a brand experience.

Security and compliance matter, but they must be right-sized. If you’re buying a keynote, you’re not buying data processing—so why the 800-question security review? Calibrate controls to actual data access and system interaction. The episode even references AWS DynamoDB and GuardDuty, plus Claude Code—helpful reminders that your stack context matters, but not every purchase touches it. Don’t conflate deep technical diligence for a SaaS integration with a simple, no-data engagement.

There’s a reason the classic film Office Space gets a nod—it’s the perfect metaphor for what happens when well-meaning governance calcifies. Bureaucracy compounds over time, usually after adverse events, until startups—or any team that still moves fast—run circles around you. Procurement that treats experts like adversaries won’t win the race that actually matters: learning faster than the market.

If you want the full story, listen to the episode here: Spotify (https://open.spotify.com/episode/2JHnTvnZX2WcFczml7ozKY?ref=producttalk.org) | Apple Podcasts (https://podcasts.apple.com/kh/podcast/procurement/id1794203808?i=1000770701690&ref=producttalk.org). It’s cathartic, but more importantly, it’s a blueprint for fixing what’s broken.

Mentioned in the episode: Hire Teresa to Speak (https://www.producttalk.org/hire-teresa-to-speak/), AWS DynamoDB (https://aws.amazon.com/dynamodb/?ref=producttalk.org), GuardDuty (https://aws.amazon.com/guardduty/?ref=producttalk.org), Claude Code (https://www.claude.com/product/claude-code?ref=producttalk.org), and Office Space (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Office_Space?ref=producttalk.org).

I’d love to hear your experiences and fixes. Where does your procurement flow break, how do you measure cycle time today, and what would it take to create a vendor experience you’d be proud to put your brand on? Drop your thoughts below and let’s trade playbooks.

Inspired by this post on Product Talk.

June 2, 2026
Unlocking AI Agents: The Real Barrier Is Readiness—Not Capability—Here’s How to Scale

There’s a question that runs underneath every AI Agent evaluation: what can it do?

Two years ago, that was the right question to ask because Agents were limited and capability was a genuine constraint. The gap between what organizations needed and what the technology could deliver was wide. I felt that gap acutely in early pilots—plenty of ambition, not enough dependable execution.

That gap has since narrowed considerably, and yet most organizations are running their Agents well below what’s technically possible. I see teams lean on answering and routing, but stop short of looking things up, taking actions, or resolving complex, multi-step problems—especially where data, process variance, or risk come into play.

The standard explanation is that AI isn’t good enough yet—models must improve, or vendors must ship more features. But after studying organizations across industries actively expanding their AI automation, I’ve found that this explanation holds up less often than people assume. The blockers tend to be elsewhere.

The teams I’ve observed weren’t primarily constrained by what their AI could do; they were constrained by what their organization was structured to let it do. In other words, the ceiling wasn’t the Agent’s capability—it was organizational readiness, governance, and risk tolerance.

“Readiness” for AI breaks into five distinct types, and most organizations have some but not all of them. Below is how I assess them with product, operations, and engineering leaders.

Content readiness is whether you can explain your product and policies clearly and consistently. Most companies can. In practice, that means up-to-date knowledge bases, unified policy language, and clear versions that Agents can cite and apply.

Scope readiness is whether you’ve defined the edges: when should AI engage, and when should it step aside? Edge cases multiply, intent varies by customer segment, sensitive topics surface mid-conversation, but most teams can work through this with effort. Clear guardrails reduce ambiguity and shrink risk.

Procedural readiness is where things start to get harder. This is about whether you can articulate your processes clearly enough for something other than a human with years of tacit knowledge to follow. The happy path is rarely the problem. It’s the failure paths, decision branches, variations that have never been written down because they’ve always lived in someone’s head.

Data readiness is the first real cliff. Can you reliably identify the right user, account, or object at the moment a decision needs to be made? Is the data trustworthy in real time? Are the APIs stable, accessible, and actually connected? For most organizations, the honest answer is “partially, but we’re not always sure when it breaks.”

Execution readiness is the highest bar. Not just technically (can the Agent make the change?) but organizationally. Who owns it when the wrong refund gets processed? Who detects it? Who recovers? Does someone with authority actually accept the risk?

Most companies have the first two, some have the third, fewer have the fourth and fifth. When I map this with teams, we often discover that their Agent’s ceiling is really a reflection of operational maturity and data plumbing, not model quality.

We studied companies across six industries – energy, healthcare, ecommerce, gaming, financial services, property management – all trying to expand what their Agents could do. The pattern was consistent: teams set out to automate real actions—looking up account status, processing changes, handling transactions. In most cases, the AI could technically do it, but at a certain point (somewhere between guiding a user through a process and looking something up on their behalf) they hit a wall.

One team tried to automate application changes but couldn’t reliably identify which application to modify across their internal systems. Another explored billing automation but couldn’t access live account data due to regulatory constraints. A third needed to verify status across third-party vendor systems their Agent couldn’t reliably reach. I’ve seen similar constraints surface around CRM integration, data governance, and vendor SLAs—none of which are model issues.

In most cases, the team redesigned around what their infrastructure could support. They moved toward guiding—walking users through processes step by step, rather than executing changes on their behalf. It worked, it resolved conversations and delivered real value, just differently than anyone planned. In customer support, this often looks like consultative flows that shorten time-to-resolution even without direct writes.

Most Agent evaluations are built around capability. Can it handle complex queries? Does it support multiple channels? Can it integrate with our systems? These are reasonable things to evaluate for, but they produce a capability score, and that doesn’t tell you whether your organization can actually use what you’re buying.

The teams that got to deeper automation, the ones executing actions early, didn’t have “better AI,” they had more standardized operations. Actions that were already well-defined, consistently applied, and exposed through stable systems with clear rules. Automation wasn’t inventing new behavior, it was triggering actions that were already tightly controlled elsewhere.

Readiness enables capability, not the other way around. Which reframes the evaluation question from “can the AI do this?” to “are we actually ready for it to?”

Something that gets lost in most conversations about AI readiness is that organizations are often further along than they assume, just not for the kind of work they were planning for. A team that set out to automate refunds but can reliably guide users through complex troubleshooting has genuine capability deployed. They’re operating at the level their readiness supports, which is a starting point, not a deficit.

The more useful frame isn’t “are we ready?” – it’s “what are we ready for, and what specifically stands between here and the next level?” The gaps tend to be concrete: a missing API, data that lives in three systems that don’t agree, a process that’s never been documented, or an ownership question nobody has answered. These are solvable problems. They just require a different kind of investment than buying a more capable Agent.

What nobody has worked through seriously yet is how organizations actually build readiness. Does it develop naturally through using AI at shallower levels first? Or is it mostly a function of prior decisions, like system architecture choices made years ago, operational maturity that accumulated over time, engineering investments that have nothing to do with AI? When readiness does increase, what actually changes? Does the support team develop it? Does engineering grant it? Does it require executive sponsorship and investment in infrastructure with no obvious AI label on it?

In my experience, progress comes from a joint effort: product to define scope and guardrails, operations to codify procedures and edge cases, engineering to harden APIs and observability, and leadership to underwrite risk with clear ownership. When those pieces align, agentic AI moves from guided assistance to safe, auditable execution.

Until there are clearer answers, the pattern is likely to continue. Companies will buy capable Agents, plan ambitious rollouts, and find that the harder work is building the organizational infrastructure. The Agents can do the work. The question is what it takes to let them.

Inspired by this post on The Intercom Blog.

May 18, 2026
Stop Obsessing Over the Roadmap: The High-Impact CPO Playbook for Ambition, AI, and Focus

I used to treat the roadmap like a sacred artifact. Over time, I learned the uncomfortable truth: the best product leaders stop obsessing over the roadmap and start obsessing over ambition. My number one job isn’t shipping features—it’s raising the bar for what the team believes is possible and carving out the time to think deeply. When I spend half my time thinking (not doing), the business moves faster, customers feel the lift, and outcomes finally outpace output. The impact of a great product leader starts with context-setting. Under a founder, the role often skews toward influence without deference—pressure-testing ideas, bringing data and customer insight, and helping translate founder vision into a portfolio and product strategy. Under a hired CEO, it’s about aligning capital allocation, setting clear investment theses, and ensuring product roadmapping and sprint planning connect directly to financial and go-to-market realities. Ambition beats activity. I push teams beyond “what we can fit this quarter” and anchor on value creation: how does this create net-new customer advantage? We measure with outcomes vs output OKRs, tie initiatives to activation, retention, and Net Recurring Revenue (NRR), and celebrate learning velocity as much as shipping velocity. When the narrative moves from features to outcomes, customers notice—and so does the business. I’m demanding without breeding fear. The trick is a high bar plus psychological safety: crisp quality standards, blameless postmortems, and an expectation of intellectual honesty. I separate people from problems, model curiosity over certainty, and use stakeholder management to align early, not late. The result is a culture where empowered product teams volunteer for the hard problems because the path to excellence is transparent. Most “politics” is an incentives problem. When functions optimize for different scorecards, status games fill the vacuum. I fix this with a shared driver tree, clarified decision rights, and compensation aligned to company-wide outcomes. Once incentives match the strategy, alignment stops being a meeting and starts being momentum. I use a three-bucket framework to delegate decisions. Bucket 1: I decide (irreversible, cross-company implications, or existential risk). Bucket 2: Team decides; I’m consulted (reversible or scoped risk with clear guardrails). Bucket 3: Team decides; I’m informed (local optimization and execution details). This creates speed without surrendering strategic coherence, and it’s a practical approach to building empowered product teams. I’m militant with my calendar to protect thinking time. I block two to three mornings per week for deep work, partner with executive assistants to defend those blocks, and aggressively prune low-ROI rituals. “Thinking time” isn’t a luxury; it’s where product strategy is forged, complex bets are sequenced, and product-market signals get synthesized. I also fly at a low altitude—joining customer calls, reviewing designs and PRDs weekly—so judgment stays grounded without micromanaging. The AI era demands more risk in our roadmaps. I place a few venture-like bets, timebox them, and instrument eval-driven development so we can kill or scale quickly. The concept of an app is changing—from static screens to adaptive workflows, assistants, and agentic AI. This shifts product roadmapping and sprint planning toward capabilities, data leverage, and safety systems (privacy-by-design, data governance, and AI risk management) rather than a linear feature list. Innovation teams need shelter from the core. I separate their KPIs from immediate monetization, create technical sandboxes with clear guardrails, and run a parallel discovery track. Forward deployed engineers sit with customers; continuous discovery ensures we converge on problems worth solving; and when something works, we integrate it into the core without smothering it with legacy processes. I use a barbell planning horizon: 12 weeks of executional clarity and 12–24 months of strategic theses. Anything beyond that is scenario planning, not a promise. We revisit the theses quarterly, tie them to product strategy and go-to-market strategy, and ensure each increment is measurable. This balances focus with optionality. Excellence in 2026 looks different. It requires fluency in AI Strategy, strong data governance, and the ability to move from feature leadership to system leadership. Product leaders must be bilingual—equally comfortable discussing LLMs and retrieval-first pipelines as they are speaking in NRR, gross margin, and payback periods. The job is to translate technology shifts into durable customer advantage. Being a great C-suite partner means acting enterprise-first. I co-own capital allocation with finance, sequence hiring with people and engineering, and encode our strategy into operating cadence. I treat sales-led growth and product-led growth as complementary systems, not rival religions, and I bring clarity to trade-offs with driver trees and scenario plans. Chase impact, not titles. The fastest growth I’ve seen comes from optimizing for scope, learning rate, and mentors—not for role labels. If you want comp and career to compound, maximize the value you create: fix activation, improve retention, unlock expansion, or reduce cost-to-serve. Titles follow impact, not the other way around. Four bottlenecks stall careers repeatedly. First, a scope ceiling—holding too much IC work and not scaling through delegation. Second, stakeholder friction—underinvesting in alignment and communication. Third, weak people leadership—not hiring, coaching, and performance-managing decisively. Fourth, fuzzy strategy—if your strategy can’t be drawn as a driver tree, your teams can’t execute it. Remove these bottlenecks and your trajectory changes fast. In the end, the roadmap is an instrument, not the strategy. Raise the team’s ambition, align incentives, protect deep work, and take smarter AI-informed risks. Do that consistently and the roadmap stops being a crutch—it becomes a flywheel.

April 30, 2026
Beyond Command and Control: How I Build Trust, Speed, and Autonomy in Product Teams

When uncertainty spikes, I notice many organizations snap back to "Command and control." It feels fast, safe, and decisive—especially when the stakes are high. But in product management leadership, speed without shared context is often an illusion, and control without trust rarely scales. I’ve learned that what looks like strength from the top can quietly create bottlenecks, missed signals, and disengaged teams.

Why do smart companies revert in tough times? Familiarity. Centralizing decisions can reduce short-term cognitive load and signal clarity. Yet the cost shows up quickly: leaders become single-threaded on context they cannot possibly hold, and teams spend cycles asking for permission rather than creating value. The result is slower learning and weaker product strategy just when continuous discovery and iteration matter most.

Here’s the hard truth: no single leader can hold all the context required to make every decision in a modern, cross-functional environment. The hidden complexity of customer segments, technical debt, data signals, and go-to-market constraints outstrips any one person’s bandwidth. That’s why empowered product teams, staffed with domain experts, outperform command centers—provided they’re aligned on outcomes and guardrails.

I like the burning house analogy: in a true emergency, crisp direction helps—"take the stairs, not the elevator"—because the problem is clear, the time horizon is short, and the action is obvious. But most product work is not a single burning house; it’s a city with evolving fire codes, shifting weather, and neighborhoods that look different block to block. In that environment, distributed action scales better than centralized control.

Strong leadership is not the same as command-and-control. In practice, it means setting a compelling direction, defining guardrails, and running tight feedback loops. I aim for what I call the "Flotilla of kayaks": we’re all headed to the same lighthouse, but each kayak navigates its own currents based on local information. That’s aligned autonomy—fast, resilient, and deeply accountable.

People often ask why some command-and-control companies still succeed. My view: beneath the surface, there’s usually more trust and unofficial autonomy than their org charts suggest. Teams earn freedom by shipping reliably, sharing decision rationales, and showing outcomes. Leaders tolerate—and even quietly endorse—those pockets of autonomy because they see the results.

It’s a spectrum, not a binary. I flex my style based on risk, reversibility, and time horizon—what I’d call spectrum thinking. Early in a bet, or when risks are existential, I raise the altitude and tighten the cadence. As confidence builds, I widen autonomy and shift the team to outcomes over outputs. Beware "Founder mode" when it drifts from vision-setting into day-to-day decision vetoes; it’s intoxicating early and suffocating at scale.

On decision-making, I prefer a simple principle: let the person with the most relevant expertise decide, while incorporating the right input. That’s "Consultative decision-making" in practice. In some regions, you’ll hear it called "Konsultativer Einzelentscheid." The point is to seek counsel without defaulting to consensus that bogs down speed. One person owns the call, and everyone commits to the decision once it’s made.

Practically, here’s what works for my teams: we clarify decision rights up front, draft pre-reads with clear options and risks, involve the smallest set of stakeholders required, and document the decision and expected signals ahead of time. Product trios keep discovery tight with design and engineering, while stakeholder management focuses on context, not sign-offs. We track outcomes vs output OKRs and hold regular decision reviews so we can reverse or double down fast.

My key takeaways are consistent: "Command and control" can feel efficient, but it doesn’t scale in complex environments. No leader can hold all the context. Strong leadership is about direction, guardrails, and feedback loops—not control. High-performing teams balance autonomy with alignment. Decision-making should sit with the person closest to the problem, supported by the right input and transparent reasoning. Trust is built and earned over time—and it changes how teams operate.

Reflection prompts I use with my leads: Where does your team sit on the command-and-control ↔ autonomy spectrum? Are the highest-context people truly making the decisions? What would it take to increase trust and autonomy—better instrumentation, clearer guardrails, or tighter cadences? Which calls require consensus, and which deserve a decisive, single-threaded owner?

If you’re wrestling with speed, alignment, and autonomy in your organization, start small: pilot "Consultative decision-making" on one consequential decision, set explicit guardrails, and measure the outcome. You may be surprised how quickly aligned autonomy compounds into better product discovery, sharper product strategy, and stronger execution.

Inspired by this post on Product Talk.

April 28, 2026
From 70 Employees to Dominance: My Playbook for Hypergrowth, Focus, and Top-Down Goals

Scaling a real-world marketplace from scrappy to dominant takes a different kind of product leadership. Reflecting on Christopher Payne’s decade leading DoorDash as President and COO — growing from roughly 70 employees to the dominant food delivery platform in the US — I’m struck by how much of that success hinged on mastering an atoms-based business while still operating with software-level rigor. As a VP of Product Management, I see the same patterns in my own work: relentless clarity on inputs, a bias for builder-executives, and a cadence that keeps leaders close to product details without becoming bottlenecks.

Running an atoms-based business versus a pure software company forces you to obsess over operational physics: unit economics, quality control, on-time reliability, and dense local liquidity. It’s precisely where traditional “bits” executives can stumble. What’s worked for me is a simple “plate spinning” framework for executive attention: identify the five or six plates that must never stop — customer experience, marketplace health, quality and safety, product velocity, platform reliability, and P&L — then schedule recurring deep dives to keep those plates spinning. If a plate wobbles, I drop in, fix the root cause, re-instrument the inputs, and zoom back out.

Hiring at hypergrowth speed only works when you bias toward a “builder mentality.” I look for executives who run toward fuzzy problems, write clearly, and can prove they’ve shipped value with incomplete information. Prior industry experience can be a liability when you’re reinventing the market; first-principles thinkers outlearn domain experts who try to port yesterday’s playbooks. In executive hiring, I’ve found structured work samples and narrative memos far more predictive than marathon interview loops — companies routinely spend too much time on job interviews and too little time evaluating how candidates think and execute.

Great executives never outgrow the details. Staying close doesn’t mean micromanaging — it means sampling the customer journey and instrumenting the system so you can feel where it hurts. In my own practice, I rotate through frontline touchpoints weekly: support transcripts, NPS verbatims, failed checkout sessions, and reliability dashboards. Small signals often reveal systemic issues. A single ciabatta bread moment — the kind of edge-case substitution that seems trivial — can expose broken handoffs, unclear policies, and misaligned incentives across the marketplace.

Top-down goal setting beats bottom-up when you’re aiming for category leadership. Bottom-up targets tend to regress to comfort; they calibrate to today’s constraints, not tomorrow’s possibilities. I set ambitious, top-down outcomes (not output), frame the non-negotiables, and map driver trees to clarify the input metrics that matter. Then I ask empowered product teams to pressure-test the plan, propose approaches, and own the how. This preserves ambition while unlocking creativity — a practical balance of clarity and autonomy that outcomes vs output OKRs were designed to achieve.

One-size-fits-all management is a myth. Early-stage teams need hands-on coaching and fast decisions; later-stage teams need mechanisms that scale: crisp PRDs, pre-mortems, and operating cadences that separate strategy, planning, and execution. The mark of a high-functioning executive team is not uniform style — it’s high candor, fast escalation paths, and visible commitment after debate. In tough moments, a little charisma goes a long way; in practice, that’s not theatrics, it’s steady optimism, simple language, and consistent follow-through that keeps people moving forward.

The hypergrowth skill stack for executives is surprisingly learnable: ruthless prioritization under uncertainty, narrative writing that aligns cross-functionally, structured delegation with clear “inspection points,” and a weekly rhythm that protects maker time. I leverage a cadence of business reviews (inputs > outputs), customer-scent checks, and decision logs so we can move fast without losing the thread. CEO and executive time management is the ultimate forcing function — if we can’t show where our attention maps to goals, the team won’t either.

Some of my enduring lessons echo the best of Amazon and eBay: customer obsession beats competitor obsession, input metrics beat lagging vanity metrics, and simple mechanisms beat heroics. From Jeff Bezos’s playbook I borrow the insistence on written narratives, single-threaded ownership, and clarity on what will not change. Those principles remain the backbone of platform scalability and resilient product strategy, especially when markets get noisy.

AI is about to flatten organizations. With agentic AI, retrieval-first pipelines, and AI workflows embedded into product development, managers can widen their span without losing fidelity. I see LLMs for product managers accelerating discovery, PRD drafting, and experiment analysis — while raising the bar on decision quality. The implication for leadership: fewer layers, more transparency, and even greater pressure to define sharp, top-down outcomes that teams can autonomously pursue.

If I had to compress this into a playbook, it’s this: set audacious, top-down goals; keep your “plate spinning” calendar sacred; write more than you talk; hire builders, not resume archetypes; sample the customer journey every week; and build mechanisms that make the right thing easier than the heroic thing. That’s how you scale product management leadership from dozens to thousands — in atoms, in bits, and in the messy, exhilarating space where they meet.

April 17, 2026
Product Work Is Relationship Work: How I Align Stakeholders Faster and Cut Team Politics

Lately, I keep hearing a familiar question: with AI making it so easy to generate ideas and build products, do we still need product managers? My answer is unequivocal—yes. Tools accelerate delivery, but they don’t build trust, reconcile competing incentives, or create the shared understanding teams need to ship outcomes. Product work is relationship work.

I recently listened to “Product Work Is Relationship Work – All Things Product with Teresa & Petra,” and it echoed what I see every day in high-performing product organizations. If you prefer to watch, here’s the episode on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/embed/d-0f8uAfc8w?feature=oembed

Listen to this episode on: Spotify | Apple Podcasts

While AI can help build things faster, it can’t replace the relationship work required to align stakeholders, navigate competing priorities, and create shared understanding across teams. That’s the hard, human part of product management—and it’s not going away.

In my experience, product teams stall when collaboration becomes transactional. We jump to negotiation (“What can you commit by Friday?”) before establishing context (“What problem are we solving and why now?”). When I slow down to get curious—about constraints, incentives, and assumptions—momentum actually increases because we’re rowing in the same direction.

Stakeholder alignment often breaks down when we conflate advocacy with exploration. We argue our viewpoint as if it were the only lens that matters, rather than making space to surface how others see the system. I’ve found the distinction between “dialogue vs. discussion,” rooted in work by Chris Argyris and elaborated in The Fifth Discipline by Peter Senge, to be a powerful reset. Dialogue builds shared understanding; discussion decides. You need both, in the right order.

Language matters in the room. The improv principle “Yes, and” is deceptively simple but transformative. When a designer, engineer, or executive feels heard (“Yes”) and we build on their idea (“and”), we create psychological safety without sacrificing critical thinking. I use “Yes, and” to explore perspectives before we converge on decisions—especially with product trios and senior stakeholders.

Here are the moves I rely on to keep collaboration relational and outcomes-focused. First, we align on outcomes before solutions. I explicitly separate outcomes vs output OKRs so we’re clear on what success looks like, independent of the features we ship. That clarity reduces rework and speeds up decision-making later.

Second, we operationalize curiosity with continuous discovery. I schedule recurring, lightweight touchpoints with customers and internal stakeholders so insights compound. When learning is continuous, debates quiet down—evidence does the heavy lifting.

Third, we invest in relationship rituals. Regular 1:1s with key partners, stakeholder maps that capture motivations, and pre-reads that frame trade-offs all prevent misalignment from surfacing in the last mile. These small habits pay huge dividends in trust and speed.

Fourth, I’m explicit about mode-switching in meetings: are we advocating a position or exploring perspectives? Calling the mode out loud prevents people from mistaking questions for opposition and keeps the conversation productive.

Fifth, we use “Yes, and” to move from possibility to practicality. We explore generously, then converge rigorously—ranking options by impact, effort, and risk so decisions are transparent and fair.

If stakeholder alignment, team dynamics, or product “politics” slow your team down, this conversation offers a practical reframe. You’ll move faster when you build the relational tissue first—because alignment is an accelerant, not a tax.

Resources & Links:

Follow Teresa Torres: https://ProductTalk.org

Follow Petra Wille: https://Petra-Wille.com

Mentioned in this episode:

Petra’s Coaching Packages

Work by Chris Argyris on organizational learning and dialogue vs. discussion

The Fifth Discipline: The Art and Practice of the Learning Organization by Peter Senge

Improv principle “Yes, and”: Saying “Yes, and” — A principle for improv, business & life and Yes, and …

Have thoughts on this episode or examples from your team? Leave a comment below—I’d love to learn what’s working (and what’s not) in your stakeholder landscape.

Inspired by this post on Product Talk.

April 14, 2026
Inside the Most Politically Dangerous C‑Suite Role: Hard Truths on Culture, Layoffs, and Leadership

I’ve long believed the people function is a strategic engine, not a support lane. That conviction was only reinforced in a recent deep dive with Katie Burke, now COO at Harvey after joining as Chief People Officer. Before Harvey, she spent 11 years in HR leadership at HubSpot, helping build one of tech’s most distinctive cultures. In this piece, I unpack what resonated most for me as a product leader: a marketing-minded approach to HR, deliberate hiring from hospitality, and the non-negotiable case for culture as a core business strategy.

The first principle is simple and often overlooked: HR leaders should think like marketers. Employer brand is a product; your candidate and employee journeys are funnels; and your programs deserve the same rigor we bring to product—segmentation, positioning, channels, and continuous A/B testing. When we treat onboarding, performance, and manager enablement like iterative product launches—complete with activation metrics, retention curves, and NPS—we stop guessing and start compounding results.

One line has become a north star for how I approach executive leadership: “Don’t ask for a seat at the table. Build the table.” In practice, that means codifying the operating system—decision rights, principles, cadences, and accountability—so the organization isn’t improvising strategy in every meeting. Product, People, and Finance should co-own this OS; that’s how you scale clarity faster than headcount.

Transparency is the tax we pay for alignment, and it compounds trust. After an IPO, the impulse can be to close ranks. The better move is radical transparency with context: what changed, why it matters, and how decisions get made now. On my teams, that looks like publishing decision records, sharing tradeoffs explicitly, and using written docs to reduce rumor velocity—core muscles in stakeholder management as complexity grows.

I also loved the counterintuitive hiring bet: prioritize hospitality backgrounds alongside traditional corporate pedigrees. People who’ve thrived in service environments bring customer empathy, operational resilience, and a bias for proactive care—traits that elevate everything from onboarding to incident response. In product terms, they’re culturally accretive hires with high signal on service quality and consistency.

The trickiest part of the Chief People Officer role isn’t process—it’s politics. You are the executive team’s own HR business partner, which requires coaching, candor, and conflict mediation at the highest stakes. The goal is to “Be the Michael Jordan of your exec team”—the teammate who elevates standards, makes others better, and chooses the hard right over the easy familiar.

Layoffs create a culture debt that accrues interest. Expect a “2.5-year cultural hangover after a layoff”—in many companies, an inevitable two-year layoff hangover—unless you actively repay it. That repayment plan includes narrating the why with specificity, rebuilding trust through manager enablement, and re-anchoring on performance and values. Measure leading indicators (manager effectiveness, time-to-decision, psychological safety) alongside lagging ones (regretted attrition) to track the true recovery arc.

People leaders also need to create “graceful exits.” Doing this well preserves dignity for the person, protects the team’s morale, and safeguards the company’s brand. The bar is straightforward: clear rationale, fair process, useful feedback, generous support, and alumni pathways. A graceful exit signals that even when business realities bite, respect is non-negotiable.

Expectation-setting matters. Two truths cut through the noise: “The workplace shouldn’t be Disneyland” and “Our job is not to make you happy every day.” The promise is not perpetual happiness; it’s meaningful work, fair standards, growth opportunities, and leaders who tell the truth. When we set that contract clearly, engagement becomes an outcome of purpose and progress—not perks.

On feedback, I use the protein vs. sugar rule for employee feedback. Sugar feedback is pleasant and perishable; protein feedback is specific, sometimes uncomfortable, and growth-driving. Great cultures build a taste for protein—clear role expectations, crisp examples, and written follow-ups. Mechanically, that looks like structured 1:1s, decision retros, skip-levels, and manager training that demystifies “what good looks like.”

Being a Chief People Officer isn’t for the faint of heart. The role must be demanding by design—on executive hiring quality, performance management courage, and values enforcement. Moments like “Berry-Gate” are reminders that small symbolic issues can balloon when feedback loops are unclear. Close the loop fast, publish the rationale, and ensure there’s a predictable path for concerns to be heard and resolved.

When hiring, beware patterns that predict friction. That’s why “frequent flyers” are a new-hire red flag. Movement can signal adaptability—but weather-vein pivots and blame-shifting often repeat. Probe for ownership, learning moments, and sustained impact; you want people who compound value, not just sample it.

Clarity on scope prevents leadership whiplash. Which company decisions fall to the Chief People Officer? Think leveling frameworks, compensation philosophy and bands, performance calibration, manager standards, ER policies, and org design guardrails—always in lockstep with Finance and the CEO. Escalate when there are values collisions or systemic risks; otherwise, push decisions to the right altitude and owner.

Scaling exposes the same few failure modes on repeat: fuzzy decision rights, a thin manager bench, brittle processes that don’t flex, and inconsistent leveling that erodes trust. The antidote is an operating model that pairs clear principles with lightweight mechanisms—documented roles, regular calibration, and reviews that audit for both outcomes and operating behaviors.

Comparing a scaled SaaS like HubSpot with an AI-native company like Harvey surfaces important differences. The former optimizes for durable systems, predictable cadences, and governance; the latter optimizes for rapid learning loops, emergent org design, and a higher tolerance for ambiguity. The art is porting the right controls at the right time without crushing velocity.

AI is already changing the people function. GenAI can draft job descriptions, summarize performance notes, classify themes from engagement surveys, and power AI workflows that resolve common HR tickets. The human-in-the-loop remains essential for judgment, context, and ethics—especially around data governance and privacy-by-design. A pragmatic AI Strategy here frees HRBPs for higher-order coaching and organizational development work.

One practice I recommend widely: share your own performance reviews. Modeling openness normalizes growth and turns feedback into a shared craft, not a secret ritual. It also builds trust when you later ask the organization to lean into sharper, protein-rich feedback.

Finally, disagreements with the CEO are inevitable—and healthy. Handle them with pre-briefs, crisp written proposals, explicit tradeoffs, and a shared decision record. Argue like scientists, not politicians; once a call is made, disagree and commit. That combination of candor and alignment is what keeps executive teams high-trust and high-velocity.

The people leader’s chair may be the most politically dangerous role in the C-suite—but it’s also one of the most leveraged. Build the table, tell the truth, design for standards and dignity, and treat culture like the product that powers everything else.

April 10, 2026
From Engineer to CEO: Hard-Won Lessons on GTM, Cloud-First Bets, and Must-Do Focus

Making the leap from engineer to CEO demands an almost entirely new skillset. I’ve felt that jolt firsthand: the tools that serve you as an IC or even a product leader—system design, crisp PRDs, elegant roadmaps—only get you about 20% of the way. The rest is learning to orchestrate go-to-market strategy, finance, hiring, culture, and product positioning with just enough depth to make sound, fast decisions while empowering true experts to execute.

My operating heuristic is the 80% rule. As CEO or GM, I don’t need to be the best marketer, seller, or finance leader; I need to understand 80% of each function well enough to set a compelling product strategy, ask the right questions, and catch the second-order effects. That breadth unlocks speed, quality of judgment, and the conviction to say no when the organization is tempted by what it can do rather than what it must do.

The clearest illustration comes from the journey that turned Apache Kafka—originally built at LinkedIn—into Confluent, a publicly traded enterprise software company. The technical insight was powerful, but the real lift came from translating that insight into a repeatable go-to-market engine. That required building new muscles: founder-led GTM, enterprise sales orchestration, and open source monetization without alienating the community that fueled adoption.

Early on, the product was “embarrassing” by enterprise standards—thin features, sharp edges, and a long tail of operational gaps. Shipping anyway was the point. A thin vertical slice into the market created learning loops with real customers, not hypotheticals. That uncomfortable speed became a superpower, especially when the company decided to push toward a cloud-first business in the face of widespread opposition.

The messaging challenge was just as hard as the technical one. Most marketing fails because it starts with what we built, not what customers must achieve. A simple product marketing pyramid—vision at the top, category framing and points of parity in the middle, crisp value props and proof at the base—helped explain Kafka to the world in customer language. When the narrative snaps into place, adoption accelerates. In Kafka’s case, one well-timed blog post clarified the “why now” and unlocked a step-change in community and enterprise pull.

There’s a pivotal distinction leaders underestimate: the gap between what a company can do and what it must do. I use a must-do filter before every planning cycle: What moves are non-discretionary for durable product-market fit? For Kafka and Confluent, that meant ruthless prioritization on managed cloud services, reliability, and platform scalability—even when it jeopardized short-term revenue or required retooling how engineering, sales, and support worked.

Fundraising strategy mirrored this clarity. Planning to raise before building the full product wasn’t about hype; it was about matching capital to the physics of the problem. If your category requires enterprise credibility, global infrastructure, and 24/7 SRE, you finance those table stakes early. That’s first principles decision making: instrument the constraints, then design the sequence that gets you to scale with the fewest irreversible mistakes.

In the early years, every product decision felt like a trade between polish and learning. The team essentially bludgeoned its way into a cloud-first posture—less because the initial product was ready, and more because the market’s must-do was obvious. That’s the essence of founder-led GTM: get into the field, close lighthouse customers, and use their arcs to shape the roadmap. It’s also where open source monetization matures from downloads into durable, enterprise value.

As the organization scales, excellence often erodes—the Chipotle problem. Process hardens; quality blurs; the magic decays. The antidotes are simple but hard: a few non-negotiable product quality bars, a short set of product-market fit metrics that everyone can recite, and empowered product teams who own outcomes over output. This is where organizational development matters as much as code: design clear interfaces between product, sales, and success, and you’ll keep velocity without losing standards.

Contrary to popular lore, founder optimism is overrated. Constructive realism wins. I try to model “probabilistic optimism”: assume we will win, but instrument the journey like an SRE runs an incident. Set leading indicators, rehearse failure modes, and make pre-commitments to the must-do path so you’re not swayed by the latest anecdote. It keeps the team out of a failure mindset while making room for rigorous course correction.

Giving up the right things at the right time is a CEO superpower. As complexity grows, I hand off decisions that benefit from specialization and keep only those tied to company narrative, must-do prioritization, and talent bar. CEO time management becomes a portfolio problem: ensure each week contains deep product time, frontline customer exposure, and one compounding systems fix (hiring loop, pricing rubric, or GTM enablement) that pays back for quarters.

If you’re moving from IC or PM into a GM/CEO role, here’s a practical playbook: build your product marketing pyramid; write the one-page must-do memo for the next six quarters; ship a narrow, managed cloud slice early; pick three product-market fit metrics (usage, time-to-value, retention) and publish them company-wide; and architect an enablement engine that turns field learnings into roadmap changes within one quarter. That’s how you transform technical advantage into a category-defining business.

The Kafka-to-Confluent arc reminds me that technology can open a door—but clarity of narrative, sequencing, and must-do focus determines whether you walk through it. When in doubt, bias toward shipping, talking to customers, and tightening the loop between what you learn and what you build. That’s the work of product management leadership at scale.

March 26, 2026
The CPO Playbook I Wish I’d Had: Ditch Bad Wisdom, Ship Faster, and Lead with Clarity

I keep a running list of product wisdom that sounds great on a slide but quietly sabotages execution. Recently, I revisited that list after a deep conversation with a seasoned CPO from a leading security and compliance platform and reflected on how these lessons show up in my own operating rhythm. What follows is my practical playbook for scaling product organizations without losing speed, quality, or the soul of the product.
Most big-tech veterans struggle when they leap into startups because the safety net of process disappears. At a startup, the buck truly stops with you—there’s no committee to shield a decision and no process to rescue a weak plan. The mindset shift is simple to say and hard to do: own outcomes end to end, reduce your reliance on institutional scaffolding, and make decisions with incomplete information while keeping standards high.
“Great product leaders stay in the details.” I sample artifacts every week—PRDs, design flows, user research notes, postmortems—and I read customer threads to calibrate my intuition. To maintain shipping velocity as headcount grows, I instrument a few critical indicators (deployment frequency, change failure rate) and favor outcomes over output. Data guides my attention; it never replaces judgment.
As teams scale, I use a blunt rule to keep speed high: small autonomous teams, small batch sizes, short feedback loops. One clear owner, one prioritized backlog, and weekly demos to customers. We ship thin slices, not big bangs. And “Great CPOs should avoid comfort metrics”—the easy dashboards that rise when nothing meaningful is moving. I push for outcome-centric OKRs tied to customer value, not vanity charts.
Rigid hierarchies derail quality decision-making. They slow signal, encourage escalation theater, and suppress the truth from the edges. I shorten paths between PMs, engineers, designers, research, and go-to-market leads, and I strip out stage gates that don’t add learning. Above all, I refuse to “Stop making your team fetch rocks”—randomized executive requests without context. Instead, I frame clear problem statements, explicit constraints, and observable success criteria.
Revenue and product can feel at odds, but they don’t have to be. The key to a quality CPO and CRO relationship is a shared operating model: one customer narrative, a joint pipeline of problems worth solving, and a common scorecard. We meet weekly, review the same signals, and align on sequencing: what we solve now for impact, what we stage for scale, and what we sunset to reduce complexity. When trade-offs get tough, we anchor on customer value and long-term defensibility.
Who ultimately oversees the quality bar? I do—and I do it through clarity, exemplars, and consistent feedback loops, not micromanagement. When I leave feedback, I make it actionable and specific: name the user scenario, note the friction, propose a sharper decision frame, and suggest a smaller, testable slice. I expect narrative memos and crisp acceptance criteria; I offer rapid, detailed responses so momentum never stalls.
Open office hours are my forcing function for transparency and speed. Anyone can bring a thorny escalation, a design in progress, or a customer insight. Pair that with weekly 1:1s—non-negotiable for developing leaders and unblocking work—and the organization learns to surface issues early, make faster decisions, and self-correct without drama.
Here’s a glimpse into my working week: Mondays set priorities and confirm the few decisions that matter; midweek is for deep reviews across roadmap, research, and engineering readiness; Thursdays I’m with customers and partners; Fridays I write and synthesize. I leave space for unscripted time with individual contributors—because ICs are the unsung heroes of a company—and I celebrate excellent craft out loud.
The hardest leadership skill is knowing when to push and when to give space. I push on clarity, sequencing, and quality; I give space on solutions and implementation paths. I reject comfort metrics, reinforce outcomes vs. output, and keep the organization close to customers and details. If you’re stepping from big tech into a startup or scaling your product org through rapid growth, these practices will help you ship faster, decide better, and raise the quality bar without burning out your team.

March 19, 2026
Staying Sane as a Product Leader: Practical Strategies I’m Using from Teresa Torres & Petra Wille

The world can feel like it’s spinning, and as a product leader, I feel that pressure acutely—juggling customer needs, stakeholder expectations, and the relentless news cycle. I recently listened to a powerful conversation with Teresa Torres and Petra Wille about staying grounded when everything feels “bonkers,” and it offered a practical, human way to keep showing up without losing yourself.

What resonated most was the invitation to live my values through small, consistent actions. Rather than waiting for grand gestures or perfect solutions, I’m leaning into the mindset of “Something is better than nothing.” It’s the same spirit we bring to continuous improvement in product: make a change, evaluate impact, iterate.

“Create the world you want to live in” has become a daily prompt for me. I’m applying it to how I spend my attention, time, and platform—three scarce resources for any product management leader. I’m not going to do everything perfectly, but I can make better trade-offs this week than I did last week, and I can keep improving.

Practically, that looks like reconsidering which speaking invites I accept, especially when representation is skewed. If a stage is heavily male, I now ask organizers about their plan for balance before committing. I also question travel expectations for short talks when a high-quality virtual experience is possible—good for sustainability, budgets, and energy. These choices compound, just like product roadmapping and sprint planning decisions.

Petra’s “under-complexity” lens was a wake-up call. In product, oversimplified narratives—whether a single KPI, a vanity metric, or a forced binary—usually increase fear and bad decisions. The same is true in civic discourse. To counter that, I’m seeking more nuance on purpose: reading multiple sources on the same story, listening for who’s not in the room, and noticing how the same facts can carry different meanings depending on who’s telling it.

One simple habit helps: I’ll read The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal on a headline, then follow up with Tangle by Isaac Saul, which lays out “what the left says / what the right says / editor’s take,” sometimes including perspectives from affected communities. It’s a lightweight form of personal knowledge management that improves my product judgment and my citizenship.

Another idea that stuck with me is swapping media proxies for human connection. In product, we don’t ship based on secondhand opinions—we run customer interviews, co-create with users, and build empowered product teams. The same principle applies in community: talk to someone directly affected, ask real questions, and stay curious. When conversations get heated, I try to build bridges, reduce proxies, and look people in the eye.

I’m also reflecting on platform responsibility. Even a “small” platform can snowball through weak ties inside a company or community. I’m asking: When should I speak up? Where should I draw lines? And when is “staying in your lane” actually a way to avoid necessary leadership? These are the same stakeholder management questions we navigate in product strategy—assess impact, clarify intent, and act with integrity.

Local grounding matters, too. I’ve found energy and clarity in community-level action: voting, attending public protests when it feels right, mentoring, and supporting nonprofits like World Pulse. I love the framing of “don’t mess with my neighbors”—it keeps me focused on tangible care when the internet starts to feel like reality. I’ve also seen leaders use angel investing in agriculture-related efforts as a counterbalance to “internet reality,” channeling resources into durable, real-world outcomes.

If you want to experiment this week, pick one small lever you control: where you spend money, time, attention, or your platform. Add nuance by reading at least two different perspectives before reacting. Replace proxies with people by talking to someone with lived experience. Reduce polarization by asking, “what shaped that view?” before judging it. And go local—connect with neighbors or a community group and let small actions compound.

If you’d like to hear the full conversation that inspired these reflections, you can listen on Spotify or Apple Podcasts. Here are the direct links: Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/episode/1sxEFquu73ZB9fL9gGk6Om and Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/kh/podcast/staying-sane/id1794203808?i=1000755696295

Resources I’m exploring and recommend: World Pulse (https://www.worldpulse.org/), The New York Times (https://www.nytimes.com/), The Wall Street Journal (https://www.wsj.com/), and Tangle by Isaac Saul (https://www.readtangle.com/ and https://www.readtangle.com/author/isaac-saul/). For builders and writers, I also appreciate Ghost (https://ghost.org/) as an open-source publishing platform. If you work in or with the MENA ecosystem, take a look at MENA Product Summit ’26 (https://www.prdkt.plus/summit26). Colleagues like Jeff Merrell (https://jeffdmerrell.com/) and grassroots efforts such as No Kings Protest (https://www.nokings.org/) offer additional perspectives and ways to get involved.

If this resonates, share it with a teammate who’s been feeling the weight of the world. I’d love to hear one small, values-aligned action you’re taking this month—what “something” will you try next?

Inspired by this post on Product Talk.

March 17, 2026
Inside Zipline’s Wild Pivot: My Take on Hiring Heat-Seekers and Scaling to 5,000 Hospitals

I’m consistently drawn to stories where product strategy and operational grit collide to change real lives. Zipline, the world’s largest commercial autonomous delivery system, is one of those rare cases. Serving 5,000 hospitals across multiple countries and saving an estimated 17,000 lives per year, it embodies the kind of mission-driven execution I try to model in product management. The arc—from a near-dead home robot startup to a scrappy bet on drone blood delivery in Rwanda, to 135 million autonomous miles flown—offers some of the clearest lessons I’ve seen on hiring, leadership, and product-market fit under extreme constraints.

One principle that immediately resonated with me: why Zipline doesn’t hire for experience. The idea behind “Why Zipline hires teenagers over PhDs” isn’t a dismissal of expertise; it’s a commitment to learning velocity, ownership, and unteachable hunger. The best startup employees, as described here, are “heat-seeking missiles for pain”—people who chase the hardest problems, not the shiniest projects. In my org, I look for the same signal: candidates who can move from ambiguity to action, who find the bottleneck without being asked, and who care more about outcomes than optics.

I also appreciated the unapologetic stance that “blind references are a non-negotiable.” In high-stakes builds—especially in regulated or safety-critical categories—the cost of a mis-hire compounds. I routinely validate for two traits during references: intellectual humility and accountability. “Can candidates admit when they screwed up?” is a powerful filter. If someone can’t name a hard mistake and how they specifically changed as a result, they’re unlikely to scale with the organization.

Equally important is clarity about who not to hire. The employees Zipline doesn’t want are those who optimize for status, process theater, or low-friction work. In practice, that means pressure-testing for problem-finding, not just problem-solving. I often design interviews around messy, cross-functional constraints (regulatory, operational, and financial) to see who can integrate tradeoffs, not just ideate features. That’s how we build empowered product teams that ship consequential outcomes, not outputs.

There’s a reference to “Zipline’s secret leadership playbook,” and while the specifics remain private, the spirit is unmistakable: first principles decision making, ruthless focus, and a culture that rewards radical responsibility. Translating that to my product organization, I emphasize five behaviors: orient to the mission under uncertainty, run fast but close the loop with data, communicate constraints early and often, own the long tail of consequences (especially in safety and reliability), and scale judgment by teaching the why, not just the what. That blend of clarity and autonomy is the backbone of product management leadership at any growth stage.

On the other side of the culture coin is “Why you should always fire quickly” and “The brutal firing advice that shaped Keller’s leadership.” I’ve learned (sometimes the hard way) that slow decisions erode trust and team velocity. Moving quickly doesn’t mean being harsh; it means being fair, explicit, and humane—tight feedback loops, role clarity, and decisive action when the gap persists. If your bar is clear and your coaching is consistent, acting fast protects both the mission and the team’s energy.

Strategically, the origin story reads like a masterclass in choosing the right problem. The team moved “from toy robots to drone delivery: Zipline’s pivot,” then partnered deeply with Rwanda, where “How Rwanda’s health minister changed everything” is a pivotal moment. It wasn’t a linear climb—”How Zipline almost died – twice” and “Why Zipline’s launch was a ‘complete disaster’” underline a tough truth: breakthrough products rarely arrive fully formed. What matters is the operating cadence that turns early chaos into repeatable reliability—especially when the stakes are measured in minutes and lives.

Scaling from 1 hospital to 5000 required more than product brilliance; it demanded systems thinking across logistics, compliance, safety, and community trust. That’s stakeholder management at its highest level. The product lessons are durable: anchor on outcomes, not artifacts; build reliability as a feature; and practice founder-led GTM where your credibility is on the line with customers and regulators. This is where first principles decision making beats benchmarking—particularly in novel categories where there are no playbooks to copy.

There’s also a hard-nosed operational takeaway in “The 10x hardware cost rule every founder should know.” My read: assume total cost of ownership will balloon once you account for manufacturing variability, support, redundancy, maintenance, and compliance. In product strategy, I treat those multipliers as design inputs, not afterthoughts. If the unit economics can’t survive these realities, the idea isn’t ready—no matter how elegant the prototype looks in a lab.

Across all of this, a few product management patterns stand out for me: build teams around outcomes vs output OKRs; hire for slope, not just intercept; make continuous discovery routine with real users (in this case, clinicians and health systems); and treat operational excellence as a product surface. When a mission is this consequential, culture becomes a safety system—and every leadership decision compounds into either speed with quality or speed with regret.

For leaders building in complex domains, this journey is a blueprint: pick problems that matter, hire “heat-seeking missiles for pain,” keep blind references non-negotiable, lead with first principles, and scale with responsibility. Do that well and even a “complete disaster” launch can become the inflection point of a category-defining company that flies 135 million autonomous miles and saves 17,000 lives per year.

March 12, 2026
Build a Support System That Scales: How Product Leaders Maximize Impact with Delegation and AI

I hear the same refrain from product leadership peers everywhere: we’re overwhelmed. Shrinking headcount, constant AI disruption, economic uncertainty, and relentless context switching make it feel like we’re carrying two jobs—setting strategy while shielding our teams. I recently listened to an episode of All Things Product that zeroes in on what a real support system for product leaders looks like, and it resonated deeply with my day-to-day.

Want to listen to the conversation yourself? Find it on Spotify or Apple Podcasts.

Here’s the core tension I see (and felt early in my own leadership journey): product leaders tend to underinvest in themselves. We hold onto work because it feels faster, safer, or “just easier if I do it.” But that pattern quietly taxes strategy, slows learning, and caps team throughput. The hidden cost of “doing it all yourself” is real.

Early in my tenure leading product, I tried to keep every plate spinning—roadmap reviews, stakeholder prep, user research, executive updates—while protecting my team’s focus. I was busy and useful, but not maximally valuable. The turning point came when I started building a lightweight support stack: a few hours of executive assistant help each week, targeted research support for bet sizing, and a personal cadence with a leadership coach. The result wasn’t just more time; it was better time.

One provocative point that landed hard: product leaders rarely have executive assistants—and that’s a problem. If your calendar is your operating system, an EA is an extension of your leverage. Mine now handles scheduling, meeting hygiene, prep packets, and post-meeting artifacts. That shift moved me from “calendar triage” to “strategic curation.” It also reinforced a core principle: delegation is a leadership skill, not a weakness. When I delegate outcomes (not just tasks), my team learns, ownership grows, and we ship decisions faster.

Support for strategy work shouldn’t stop at the calendar. Research and data enable better bets. Lightweight research ops, access to product analytics, and brief synthesis sprints keep me anchored in evidence without drowning in artifacts. Paired with a strong community of practice, I get a steady stream of comparative patterns—how other leaders delegate, scope advisory boards, or run decision reviews—which short-circuits trial-and-error.

Coaches were framed as shortcuts for clarity, accountability, and skill-building—and I agree. A good coach compresses cycles, sharpens decision quality, and holds the mirror up when you drift into doer mode. Two quotes captured the mindset perfectly: “You are a pro athlete. It makes sense to think about how you scale your impact without adding more to your calendar.” — Petra Wille. “As you get busier, it becomes more important to focus on the value only you can bring.” — Teresa Torres.

There’s also a helpful nudge to let go of perfectionism: “80% done by someone else is 100% awesome.” — Dan Martell (quoted). In practice, that means I accept great drafts from others, then add the 10–20% only I can contribute—context, narrative, and the sharp edges of the decision.

What about AI? The conversation hits a practical middle ground I share: use AI where it compounds leverage—meeting summaries, research synthesis starters, doc outlines, and backlog triage. But keep humans where judgment, alignment, and context truly matter—strategy framing, stakeholder management, and the final decision-making loops. In other words, apply an AI Strategy that respects product leadership’s uniquely human work.

Key themes I took away: why product leaders struggle to scale themselves; the true cost of “doing it all yourself”; why not having executive assistants limits impact; delegation as a core leadership capability; how to identify and protect the work only you can uniquely do; using research and data to inform strategy; coaches as accelerators for clarity and accountability; communities of practice as a force multiplier; adopting a “professional athlete” mindset; when AI helps—and when humans still matter; and the liberating mantra that “80% done by someone else is 100% awesome.”

If you’re wondering where to begin, start small and practical. Audit your time: what work truly requires you? Experiment with small amounts of support (even a few hours a week). Delegate outcomes, not just tasks. Keep the hands-on work you love—but be intentional. Use peers, coaches, and communities to learn how others delegate. Don’t wait until burnout to build your support system.

Resources mentioned if you want to go deeper: Follow Teresa Torres: https://ProductTalk.org. Follow Petra Wille: https://Petra-Wille.com. Petra’s Coaching for Product Leaders: https://www.petra-wille.com/coaching-packages. Dan Martell’s book Buy Back Your Time: https://www.buybackyourtime.com.

I’m curious: what’s one outcome you’ll delegate this week, and what support would make it stick? Share your thoughts in the comments—your playbook might be exactly what another product leader needs right now.

Inspired by this post on Product Talk.

February 17, 2026