One of the first challenges most new EMs face is figuring out who their team really is. Often times, the EM used to be an engineer on the team, so they carry over their identity as one of the engineers. Even when a manager is new to their team, they often invest so much effort building trust and relationships, that it's natural for them to see their direct reports as their team. As unnatural as it may seem as an EM, your engineers are not your first team. Your peers are your first team.
The concept of the first team comes from Patrick Lencioni's book, The Five Dysfunctions of a Team. The idea is simple. Everyone belongs to several teams, but they should not all be of equal weight. The first team, the team that is the highest priority, is always your peers. For EMs, their first team is the other EMs and their manager. As a new EM, that's usually a pretty foreign concept. I've had EMs tell me they think it's a bunch of BS. Obviously their engineers are their first team. I think one big distinction between an EM and a director is that directors almost always see their peers as their first team.
And so we come to the folk hero. A folk hero is a member of the management team whose confusion about their first team causes issues. A folk hero uses their leadership position to make their team see them as the hero or savior, most often at the expense of the org and the team. In my career I've been bitten by folk heroes a couple of times, and I've even been a folk hero myself. Given the title of this post, you won't be surprised to learn that it didn't end well in any of those cases. Story time.
When I was still new in my management career, I was at a company that merged with our most hated competitor. I mean, we loathed them. We were right, and they were very, very wrong. In the course of that merger, my reporting chain became interleaved, with my boss being from the other company, their boss being from my company, etc., all the way up to the CEO. Because my boss came from the other company, they were wrong, and everything they wanted us to do was wrong. I decided it was my responsibility as a manager to lead a rebellion against the wrongness. I went so far as to try to move my entire team into another org. My boss recognized I was a problem and needed to be removed. The only reason I was able to keep my team was that their boss had my back. Honestly, knowing what I know now, if I had been their boss, I'd have let me go. I was trying to be a folk hero at the expense of the company. My crusade wasted my team's time and cost us a couple of great engineers who I inspired to quit. Bad Daniel.
Fast forward a bit. I was at another company, leading a fair sized organization. Half of my org, under one of the directors, was spinning their wheels and unwilling to engage on the mission. I eventually realized that the problem was that director trying to be a folk hero. They didn't agree with my direction, and so they were quietly pulling in another direction. After that director chose to leave the company, the full impact of their folk heroing surfaced. The common narrative was that this person was the only one standing between the engineering org and cultural oblivion. Folks openly asked how we were going to survive without that director here to protect the people. We had to scramble to prevent the impending attrition apocalypse.
Fast forward again. I had an engineering team in my org that was core to what we were doing, and they were very unhappy. I met with their EM every week to talk about the challenges. They told me the team was feeling left out and unimportant. I told them how critical to our mission the team was, and they agreed. We discussed strategies to help the team feel more loved. At one point I did a listening session with the team, and the team begged to be included more directly in the main effort, which was puzzling, because the problem from my perspective was that the team was choosing to remain siloed instead of getting more involved. It eventually dawned on me what the problem was: the EM was a folk hero. Instead of owning the mission, they painted the mission as the problem and themselves as being in the same boat as the engineers, at the mercy of leadership's unreasonable demands. That episode cost me a couple of good engineers and huge schedule delay in a must-deliver project.
The most challenging thing about folk heroes is that they're hard to diagnose. When you talk to the folk heroes, everything sounds fine. You're the enemy, so they're not going to let you see what they're really up to. When you talk to the team, they'll tell you that the folk hero is the best manager ever. That's exactly what the folk hero wants them to think. Having been through a couple of folk heroes, the sign I look for is a team that's unhappy without a good reason. Sometimes it looks like the team is the problem, because they're unwilling to follow the top-down direction. And the folk hero manager is happy to let you think that, because they're playing both sides. The more you come down on the team, the more the folk hero gets to paint themselves as the only one who's on the team's side.
When you see that pattern, take a long, hard look at the manager. Talk to folks outside of the team to get their perspectives. Often peers and other teams will notice something isn't right before you do, and can point you toward the source. Honestly, I have never successfully gathered enough confidence to terminate a folk hero. In the two above cases, once I caught onto the game, they both punched out. Thinking back on my own folk heroing, after I was called out, I also left. So maybe the lesson is just that sunlight is the best disinfectant. The trick is applying it in sufficient quantity before the engineers start quitting.
Good luck out there. As we used to say in a previous company, my CS degree didn't prepare me for this. Managing is hard, and there's no instruction manual. The best we've got is each other. If you've have your own folk hero stories, drop them in a comment so we can all learn from them!