The other day I was writing up a job description, which I take rather seriously, and I remembered that I needed to include the statement that an engineering manager has the responsibility to function as the “voice of the engineer”.
Then I sat back for a moment and thought,
- Is this true?
- Why can’t engineers speak for themselves?
- And what about other constituents in the software development process?
Let’s look at each of these questions in turn starting with the last and working our way up.
The constituents of the software development process include the engineers working on the problem, the code being written, the system that the code implements, the users who happily (or unhappily) use these systems, and the business that one way or another pays for all of this activity.
The business tends to be the most powerful entity in software development. If you don’t have a business, even if that business is free software, then you don’t have any of the other constituents. The business is the organizing principle around which everyone else is invited to the party. Without the business nobody gets paid, whether that payment is in dollars, bitcoin, downloads, or GitHub stars.
Thus the business has evolved elaborate techniques to insure its voice is heard by all team members loud and clear. We call these techniques Waterfall, Agile, Scrum, Kanban, etc. And yet, many times the voice of business gets lost in the drive to complete the project, hit the deadline, keep costs down, or please the boss. Many times, being the loudest voice in the room means you get heard but not necessarily understood. From my perspective, it’s the job of the project manager, product owner, and engineering manager to make sure the business’s voice is both heard and understood. That means not just driving the team to deliver but to ensure the right sorts of tradeoffs are made between time, cost, quality, and scope. Even if it drives business stakeholders to complain in angry voices!
The user’s voice is usually the hardest to hear—unless you have actual users on the team. Even then, those users might not be representative of all users, or even the average user. Before the web, we didn’t have a reliable way to talk to thousands or millions of users directly. We had to hear their voices though focus groups, surveys, and experts. The results were often products likes the Ford Edsel or Windows Vista. Whisper Down the Lane is a dangerous game when you’re developing software. Luckily, we have this World Wide Web and the ability to test theories about the user’s voice directly. Generally, product owners and engineering managers take ownership of listening carefully for the user’s voice in the din of conflicting use cases and market requirements. But still, we’re completely surprised by what the user says.
I want to talk about the system’s voice and code’s voice together because they are often confused. In software development, the code is not the end goal; the code is a side effect of a process to get to the goal; that goal is a well-functioning system. You have to listen very carefully to hear the voice of the system because it’s not a person (not yet). Product owners, engineering managers, engineers, and architects all have a big responsibility to quiet their minds and meditate on the telltale whispers of a happy or sad system. A happy system scales easily up and down, is readily extended, responds quickly, and doesn’t consume more resources than it needs too. A sad system is just the opposite. Unfortunately, most systems are sad because hardly anyone is listening to them. Instead most of engineers look myopically at the code. You can have great code and still have a lousy system. You have terrible code and have a great system. Look at any well-functioning software product and you’ll find many areas of poor code and hasty hacks.
To hear the voice of the system you have to write tests, compare log files, profile disk, memory, and CPU usage, and monitor everything. It’s hard, time consuming, and your stakeholders will get cranky because the they and user didn’t explicitly ask for all this system work. Just explain to them that the bestest, fastest, prettiest car in the world isn’t going anywhere without roads and fuel.
What about the voice of the code? I love code. I listen to it very closely. Even though code is a byproduct of a process and not what the philosopher’s call teleological, it’s one of my favorite parts of software development. Code and the ability to hear what it has to say is what separates the engineer and engineering manager from the rest of the development team. I like to say, I don’t care what the code does, as long as it does it well! But that’s not quite true. Code for code’s sake is like an award-winning marketing campaign for vaporware.
Between the engineers, their managers, and the architects, there are plenty of people worried about the code, its styles, its elegance, and its fitness. Still, like the voice of the user, the voice of the code can get lost in the mad rush to fix P0 bugs and hit the end of the sprint—usually with deleterious downstream effects on the system and those users that everyone is supposed to be centered around.
At long last, we come to the voice of the engineers, those people that the engineering manager is supposed to speak for and represent. Why can’t they just speak for themselves? After all, nothing gets done if the engineers don’t code it! (We can’t yet compile and execute Photoshop UX designs.)
In small organizations, the voices of the engineers are very audible.
In large organizations, the engineers need an authority figure, someone with gravitas and political power, to make sure their voices are heard and understood by everyone demanding their time and attention.
Even though engineers have a lot of options these days, we’re living in Edsger Dijkstra’s software crisis:
“The major cause of the software crisis is that the machines have become several orders of magnitude more powerful! To put it quite bluntly: as long as there were no machines, programming was no problem at all; when we had a few weak computers, programming became a mild problem, and now we have gigantic computers, programming has become an equally gigantic problem.”
With the cloud, we have infinitely gigantic computers and programming them has become an infinitely difficult problem!
To solve for that problem every business is hiring more and more engineers. But we know from Frederik Brooks that adding more people to a software project simply makes it more complex and harder to deliver.
Why is that? The more engineers, the more voices, the more discussions, the more POVs, the more time spent on negotiation, and the less time spent on listening to the code, the system, the user, and the business.
This is why I like Jeff Bezos’s formula for team size: the two-pizza team. In large groups the quiet people stay quiet and the outspoken people spend all the time talking instead of listening. If you can break up your software development work such a team of six people can easily handle it over a serious of iterations, then there is a good chance every voice on the team will be heard.
This is why the engineering manager, the architect, and the agile coach have to be the “voice of the engineer”—Not because engineer voices are ignored but because there can be so many engineers on a team that their individual voices get lost in the roar of the crowd.
A sharp-eyed reader will notice that I’ve linked the engineering manager to every node in this graph of voices. A good engineering manager is usually the only team member technical and experienced enough to hear all the voices and try to balance them out. Of course, not every engineering manager remembers to do this. Often, we get lost listening to the loudest voice or the voice we like the most (our own). The trick is to stop talking long enough such that you have the time to invite other constituents to speak.