This year I’ve been reading fewer books on professional topics, but the ones I do read I choose very carefully. I didn’t pick up Mom, I’m a Team Lead! right away: first I listened to colleagues’ feedback, then I looked into what other readers were saying about it. And only after that did I decide it was worth reading myself — because the topic of growing from an individual contributor into a manager has always interested me. I myself spent a long time trying to sit on two chairs at once, until I finally moved fully into “pure” management (although I still don’t shy away from working with my hands when there’s no other choice).
The main goal the author set for herself in this book is to show how any manager needs to grow — starting almost from the very first steps, when just yesterday you were simply an executor (even a highly skilled one), and today you’re already responsible for other employees in the company. Marina breaks down the main fears and typical mistakes along this path. And that alone is extremely valuable, because not every young manager is lucky enough to have a good mentor who can help them deal with such fears and challenges.
I have to admit, though, that at first I reacted somewhat skeptically when Marina mentioned that she gained virtually all of her experience (10 years) in a single company with a single culture — one she was clearly very lucky with. Because she was genuinely fortunate: she had a manager who helped her grow, and the team relationships were built according to healthy rules, judging by her descriptions. But the harshest school of management is learned when things aren’t so rosy. And the lack of such tough experience is felt a bit in the book, because it’s easy to act “correctly” and “by the book” when the company and leadership allow you to. You need to be even more prepared to grow and solve problems in situations where circumstances make that much harder.
Of course, one might say: “Why work at such a company? Go find another!” But that’s not always possible — the job market doesn’t welcome everyone with open arms, especially young and inexperienced managers. And besides, there are no ideal companies in the world. There are better ones and worse ones, and far more of them will be not quite what you’d like (I personally believe that if all companies were ideal, strong managers would barely be needed at all). And finally — the harsh school gives you far more problem-solving skills, meaning you’ll be fully capable of working even in good conditions later on. But the other way around? That’s far from guaranteed.
It seems that every large (or simply well-known) company has its unique culture, which is also considered the only correct and successful one. We are all unique, after all. However, the concept of “correctness” and “success” is highly subjective. Yet many want to showcase that they achieved success solely because of their approaches (and that others, therefore, succeeded despite theirs).
First, there was the remarkable book Creativity, Inc. by Ed Catmull about the culture at Pixar. Then came the very loud, but completely unappealing to me, Principles by Ray Dalio. Finally, I reached No Rules Rules by Netflix CEO Reed Hastings, who co-wrote this book with Erin Meyer. I frequently recommend Meyer’s The Culture Map almost every time someone asks me about the best books.
This book, like many others, was highly praised by my colleagues, receiving the highest ratings. However, I always strive to form my own opinion rather than follow the masses. I read it. And it took me quite a while to gather my thoughts and finally write my review. This is because it is one of the most controversial books I have read in the past several years.
On the one hand, I will definitely recommend it. On the other hand, I had comments like “interesting, but there are nuances” for nearly every chapter. This is because, as usual, I tried to apply all the described approaches to myself as a manager and to the companies I have worked for. And here, as they say, things became far less straightforward.
As an IT professional with more than 30 years of experience, I constantly use a huge number of different products and services—both at work and in everyday life. In recent years we can hardly imagine our lives without all these services.
Yet in the chase for optimization and other chimeras, many have begun to forget that a product is made first and foremost for its users. And the biggest mistakes lately, in my view, are atrocious user support—often hiding behind a façade of supposedly excellent customer care.
Everyone is trying to cut costs, and so they either replace help with AI bots or hand support over to cheap, incompetent specialists. In the worst case they remove any support at all (or hide it so well you’ll spend a couple of hours just trying to find it).
What’s the result? The product itself may be wonderful. But as soon as a loyal user runs into a problem, they look for help. They’re not interested in tons of articles on the subject; they want their specific problem solved. Preferably here and now.
I can’t really call myself a person with vast experience in moving. Relocating from one apartment to another within the same city is an interesting experience, but it’s hardly something global. However, dropping everything and moving to another country — that I’ve done only once. And even then, my move was relatively easy, since I wasn’t moving into the unknown, but simply transferring to another office of my company. And the company — huge thanks to them — helped so much that I barely had to think about the process at all. Still, in 2014 my wife and I, along with our three children, moved to an entirely different country, and I learned a few things about what such a transition means.
On top of that, because of my job I’ve always communicated a lot with foreigners, and after 2010 that kind of interaction only grew — including business trips. That’s when I began to notice the cultural differences more clearly and look for ways to bridge them.
Unfortunately, after 2020, many of my fellow citizens were forced to leave their homeland. And in 2022, the brutal war with Ukraine made many people flee anywhere they could, sometimes leaving part of their families behind. Questions about moving — how to do it properly, what to expect — began to come up more and more often. I started keeping a separate document about the specifics of moving to Cyprus (in Russian) and tried to advise people who had already relocated or were just planning to.
And in those conversations, many recurring themes came up — some of which left me at a loss, because I simply didn’t expect to hear them from people planning to move abroad. Probably because I’ve always taken every matter too seriously, never making decisions without preparing thoroughly and learning everything I could. But not everyone is as crazy as I am.
One of the best books I read last year was a relatively short but incredibly useful guide by Konstantin Borisov on conducting interviews—“To Hire or Not to Hire? Or How to Interview a Developer.” I now recommend it to everyone, whether they are conducting interviews themselves or preparing to be interviewed. It gives you a much clearer understanding of what a potential employer is like and whether they are worth considering.
But Konstantin Borisov also wrote another book—“How a Good Developer Can Avoid Becoming a Bad Manager.” The topic may not seem obvious at first, but it’s actually incredibly relevant. In the IT industry, it’s well known that top specialists often get promoted simply because they excel at their tasks. One day, you’re a great developer, the next, you’re mentoring a couple of interns. Before you know it, you’re made a lead developer, then given a team to manage, and suddenly—you’re a manager.
I went through a similar path myself, though for a long time, I tried to balance both roles. I loved mentoring specialists and building teams, but at the same time, I still wanted to be a hands-on developer. Eventually, I realized that trying to do both was making me worse at each, and I finally made the decision to fully transition into management.
Working in an international company, I’ve experienced cultural differences firsthand between various nationalities. A year ago, I wrote a review of The Culture Map, a book I constantly recommend to colleagues. However, this topic is so broad and fascinating that it keeps resurfacing, especially as the understanding of these differences allows me to notice them in the behavior of those around me almost daily.
Today, I’d like to delve deeper into differences in trust and loyalty. Instead of comparing everyone, let’s focus on the typical American and the typical Russian. By “Russians,” I mean people from the former USSR, as this is how we are often viewed abroad. Of course, this is a diverse mix, and we’re not all the same (for example, I can clearly see differences between Russians and Belarusians, and within Russia itself, there are plenty of distinctions due to the sheer size of the country).
I’m currently reading the book The Design of Everyday Things, where the author touches on the topic of cultural differences that influence our perception of objects and our experience interacting with them. In my work, I’ve had the opportunity to travel extensively in recent years, and I’ve personally experienced many of these differences. The subject is broad, so today I’ll focus on a few specific aspects.
To start, many of us know that different countries have right-hand and left-hand driving. I’ve already mentioned my experience driving in Cyprus, which was interesting for someone used to driving on the other side of the road. Even now, I still occasionally look in the wrong direction when crossing the street, and the bus doors being on the opposite side still catch me off guard.
But today, I want to talk about electricity and household switches. You’d think there wouldn’t be much variation here—after all, there’s “on” and there’s “off.” How much could this change? Well, it turns out that how “on” and “off” is done can differ quite a bit.
First, let’s take a step back and talk about electricity in general. Those of us born in the USSR are used to two-pin sockets with 220V (Yes, there were industrial sockets too, but here I’m talking about household use.) Even modern European plugs, with their thicker prongs, appeared later in common use and caused some difficulty at first, as they wouldn’t fit in the smaller holes of older sockets.
However, the diversity worldwide is much broader, and travelers who don’t think about it might find themselves surprised—ranging from “couldn’t charge my phone” to “completely fried it.” There are numerous types of electrical sockets used around the world, as highlighted in a post by Sergey Dolya:
The world doesn’t just have a variety of plugs and sockets, but also different voltages in outlets across countries. If you plug a European device that expects 220V into a 110V American socket, most of the time, the worst that happens is it won’t work. However, going the other way—connecting a 110V device to a 220V socket—can easily destroy the equipment if it’s not designed to handle multiple voltages. For instance, some of my American colleagues once burned out five (!) Xbox power adapters before realizing that the loud pop and smoke each time they plugged it in was not normal!
If you’re interested in the historical reasons behind this variety and how global standardization efforts have evolved, you can read more about it on Wikipedia.
That’s why it’s always a good idea to check if you’ll need a power adapter when traveling to a new country. In most large hotels, you can usually ask for one at the front desk.
Now, back to the topic of switches. I can immediately think of three types: European, British, and American. They all essentially do the same thing—they switch between two states: on and off. There are also more exotic dimmer switches, which allow you to control the light’s intensity, but let’s leave those out for now.
So, what are the differences?
British and American switches are fairly typical. Whether you’re in a hotel or an apartment, the switches tend to be consistent within the country. British switches tend to be small and angular, while American switches are often small levers. However, the functionality remains the same.
A typical American switchA typical British switch, here it’s a double one
Alright, to be fair, there are other options out there, but the ones I’ve described are the most common, which is why I refer to them as traditional.
At the same time, within the European group, there’s a huge variety of switch designs. It’s still possible to find switches similar to British ones. In fact, many of them were quite common in the USSR, just a little bigger in size. However, in the last few decades, the standard switch in Europe is typically a large button set in a square frame. Often, you’ll see two rectangular buttons in the same form factor. Manufacturers frequently play around with the colors and framing of these switches. On the other hand, I’ve noticed far less variety in American and British designs. Personally, I prefer European switches: they look more aesthetically pleasing and are more practical in everyday use. If your hands are full and you need to hit the switch with your shoulder or hip, European switches are larger, easier to hit, and have a softer action, requiring less effort to press.
Here’s an example of European switches from Legrand
But beyond light switches, there’s also a significant difference when it comes to power outlets. In European and American outlets, they are always live—plug in your device, and it starts working immediately. In British outlets, however, there’s always a switch that allows you to turn the outlet on or off. You can tell if it’s on by the red stripe at the top of the switch: if you see it, the outlet is on; if not, it’s off.
This difference fundamentally changes user behavior: if you need to disconnect a device from power, you don’t need to pull the plug out of the socket; you just flick the switch. This is probably a better approach overall since it reduces wear and tear on the plug, the socket, and the cord, minimizing the chances of damage. However, this feature never really caught on in the U.S. or most of Europe.
Two British power sockets with switches, showing the red markers at the top to indicate that the sockets are live (receiving current)
As you can see, even in something as simple and familiar as turning on lights or powering devices, different countries have gone down entirely different paths. Some countries have inherited their standards from others (for example, Cyprus uses British-style outlets, likely a remnant of British rule over the island).
There are actually quite a few such differences if you start paying attention to them. Feel free to share if you know of any more!
The book Leaders Eat Last by Simon Sinek initially caught my attention because of its title. It immediately sparks different images in your mind, and you start imagining what the author meant by such a title… so it was worth reading to find out.
I read it almost in one go and took more notes than with any other book I’ve read. However, I struggled for a long time to decide what rating to give the book, as well as what I really liked and what still needs further thought. That’s why I’m writing this review three weeks after finishing the book.
The book is about what it means to be a leader and what the right company culture should look like.
Let’s consider an example: an employee (French) and her boss (American) are discussing her work performance. The employee leaves the conversation feeling inspired—she’s exceeding expectations, and she is one of the best. Meanwhile, the boss is left puzzled—he’s tried every way possible to point out how many issues there are in her work, her behavior is inappropriate, but she seems to be ignoring everything he’s said. Think this couldn’t happen? Oh, it certainly can! They’re both acting and interpreting each other based on the cultural codes they absorbed growing up.
I would’ve been just as puzzled myself if I hadn’t interacted with people from all over the world at work. I’ve seen and experienced situations like this firsthand. Knowing just a common language isn’t enough because your personal experiences and cultural background unconsciously shape your behavior, and you evaluate others through the lens of your own cultural perspective.
The book doesn’t so much explain Starbucks’ corporate culture as it repeatedly emphasizes just a couple of fundamental principles of Starbucks. The author hardly delves into how this culture is built or instilled in employees (referred to as partners in the company’s culture).
Additionally, the book doesn’t feel like a cohesive work. The chapters are barely connected, and at times, they essentially repeat the same ideas but with slightly different wording.
I would say it feels more like the author’s personal journal, where he meticulously records his thoughts, often referencing other authors he constantly cites. If you approach the book from that perspective—as the thoughts of a Starbucks top executive—then it does contain interesting insights into building one’s work and relationships with employees and customers.
