Category: Uncategorized

  • What Do I Do? Oh, I Get Stuff Done.

    Because I’m tired of explaining what a Technical Program Manager does.

    “So… you manage projects?” (Yes, but that isn’t all I do.)

    “Are you a Product Manager?” (No, but I partner with them.)

    “Oh, you’re the one who schedules the meetings and takes notes!” (Sometimes, but that isn’t the whole job.)

    Things people have asked me time and time again. And while each of these has a sliver of truth, none of them quite capture what I actually do as a Technical Program Manager (TPM).

    Throughout my career, I’ve had to explain to many people what a TPM is. I should have written this post a long time ago. It would have saved me a lot of time feeling like a broken record.

    I’m writing this now because we recorded a podcast episode about the value of program managers, and one of the takeaways was we need to be our own advocates. We need to educate others and toot our own horns about the value of What We Do. (Podcast plug: If you don’t already know… I’m the co-host of The Messy Middle Matters podcast!)

    Me, tooting my own horn. A card I received from a former boss.

    So here goes!

    The TPM role is one of those jobs that’s hard to define, but easy to recognize once you know what you’re looking for. We’re the people asking the right questions, aligning the moving parts, and making sure ideas actually become real things. We translate vision into executable plans, connect technical and non-technical stakeholders, and make sure nothing falls through the cracks. We are the connective tissue, the glue, the duct tape, sometimes the bare hands holding it all together.

    We usually don’t write the code (TPMs at some orgs write code, but please don’t ask me to code), and we aren’t the final decision-makers, but we ensure the right conversations happen at the right time, with the right context. We turn ambiguity into clarity, chaos into flow. And when things change (because they always do), we “herd the cats”, assess, reorient, and keep the momentum going. One of the questions I ask the most is “What are the next steps?”

    We organize all the pieces so we can figure out what the next steps are.

    Depending on the team or company, a TPM might be responsible for driving cross-functional initiatives, managing end-to-end project delivery, aligning priorities across engineering and product teams, or setting up processes to scale execution. Unofficially, we may be a backup people manager, the team’s therapist, or the person everyone messages when something is on fire and no one knows where the extinguisher is. Sometimes (oftentimes!) it’s all of the above. The role sits at the intersection of strategy and execution, requiring both systems thinking and high emotional intelligence.

    Because I love a good metaphor… if engineers are the musicians and the product manager is the composer, a TPM is the conductor. We don’t play the instruments or write the music, but we make sure everyone comes in on time, stays in sync, and plays at the right tempo. It’s the difference between sounding like music and sounding like a hot mess.

    TPMs live — and thrive — in the messy middle (podcast plug #2!). We zoom out to the big picture, then back in to unblock a ticket that’s stalling progress. We write project briefs and define milestones, but we also notice when morale is dipping or when two teams are misaligned. We help organizations scale by creating structure where needed, but not so much that it gets in the way of speed.

    It isn’t flashy work; in fact, most great TPMs I know actively avoid the spotlight. You won’t see our work in a demo or a release note. But when it’s missing, people notice. Deadlines get fuzzy. Teams lose focus. Communication breaks down. Accountability disappears. Everyone’s busy, but somehow, nothing’s moving forward. There’s a lot of motion but not a lot of movement. (I can’t take credit for that last line; I heard someone say it in a meeting, and it hit.)

    We make things real.

    At its best, Technical Program Management is a leadership role — not through direct authority, but through influence, clarity, and trust. It’s about creating the right conditions and empowering teams to do their best work together. And that means understanding how things work (and don’t), what people need (and why), and how to gently (but persistently) drive momentum.

    TPMs are also really good at adapting. The shape of the role shifts based on the maturity of the organization, the makeup of the team, and the organization’s goals. It all depends on what problems the organization is trying to solve.

    Early-stage startup? Building processes from scratch. Mid-stage scale-up? Connecting the dots across siloed teams. Large company? Translating strategy into coordinated delivery across multiple layers of stakeholders, usually across the entire organization, both wide and deep.

    So when someone asks me what I do, I say some version of this:

    I get shit done. I empower teams to do their best work. I connect dots. I make complex ideas a reality by aligning people, untangling dependencies, and adapting to whatever the work calls for.

    It’s the work that makes the work… work.

    If this post was helpful for you, and/or would be helpful to someone you know, I encourage you to share it far and wide!

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    And if you were like, “wow, that was so insightful, I’d love to buy Amanda a coffee!”, you can do that through Ko-fi 🙂

  • Reset to Factory Settings

    Have you tried turning it off and back on again?

    I was laid off in December.

    Layoffs, unfortunately, are so common these days. It’s never a good time to suddenly lose your job, but to lose it in December? There’s a special place in hell for people who decide to do layoffs around the holidays. In most cases, a company’s leadership team doesn’t just wake up one morning and decide to fire a bunch of people that day, so… it’s nasty work.

    I digress. That isn’t what I want to write about today.

    What I do want to write about is my reset to factory settings. You know when your phone or computer gets all borked and glitchy and you’ve tried everything to fix it, to no avail, and the last-ditch effort is to reset it to factory settings? And once you’ve done that, you have essentially a brand-new device — a blank slate that usually works better because it doesn’t have 100 apps on it? Yeah, that’s what the last few months have felt like for me.

    My tech support specialist, Kona.

    This is the third time I’ve been laid off, so I’ve been through it before. This time feels different from the others, though, in all the best ways. Third time’s a charm, I guess.

    I fell into the trap of always chasing the next best thing: the next job, the next promotion, the next pay raise. Right now, I’m thinking about the next best thing, but in a more curious and expansive way. What does work look like for me? How do I want to spend my days? How much is enough, so that I can happily achieve that and not burn myself out striving for more? What lights me up, and how do I do more of that in a way that is sustainable?

    I couldn’t get around to even asking myself those questions if I didn’t uninstall everything first. As it turns out, there was so much reprogramming I had to do. I want to share some of my realizations.

    Some of the things I reprogrammed, redefined, or reframed, and I’m sure some of these will become standalone posts at a later time:

    My definition of productivity. Before, I had this urge (addiction?) to be productive at all times. Maybe it’s a product of being born and raised in the Northeast. Maybe it’s just my personality. I had to reassess the constant “go, go, go” and “time is money” mindset that seemed to be hardwired in my brain. I had to actively learn that rest is productive. Being bored, and carving out time and space to think, is productive.

    Ignorance of my burnout warning indicators. Related to the idea of always being productive… that mode often leads to burnout. Being constantly exhausted because I’m “sooooo busy” is not a flex or a badge of honor. It’s a red flag, a check engine light, a flashing low battery message. I read The Cure For Burnout: Build Better Habits, Find Balance and Reclaim Your Life by Emily Ballesteros, and I audibly said “oh my god” during the entire chapter where she described burnout (chapter 1, probably?).

    My perfectionist tendencies. I have always been one of those high achiever types. Because of that, I’m often very hard on myself. This break has really allowed me to try new things that I will inevitably mess up, because they’re new. I’ve had to accept that the first few tries might be messy. Or awkward. Or even bad. And that’s ok.

    Some of the things I reinstalled and am actually using now:

    Intentional slowness and mindfulness. I am now moving at a purposely slower pace so I can be more mindful of where I’m spending my energy. It allows me to choose what to do and not fall back into autopilot grinding mode. I’ve intentionally made room for stillness and quiet in a world of overstimulation. And I’ve realized that meditation isn’t about mantras and completely clearing your mind, but about being fully present in the current moment. My nervous system thanks me for this breakthrough.

    For the record, meditation beads do help.

    More play and joy. I’m now really leaning into doing things just for the sake of it, because they make me happy. Joy is a reminder that I am not a robot. I can feel joy! I can create joy! Related to mindfulness, it’s realizing that joy comes in the small moments. The perfect pour of coffee. The flowers blooming in the yard (even though I later realized they’re weeds). Listening to music while doing my laundry. I’m going all in on romanticizing my life, because why shouldn’t life be enjoyable?

    Self-care. Rest and relaxation are not things that need to be earned. I thought self-care was bubble baths and candles that were the rewards after exhaustion. Self-care is just… drinking water. Limiting screen time. Lying down on the floor because my bad back needs it. Loafing on the couch because it’s a rainy day and I just feel like doing that. I’ve been working on incorporating more self-care into my regular routine and not waiting until I’m burned out.

    I recognize this for the privilege it is, and I am grateful for it. Not everyone can afford to take a break from full-time work (voluntarily or otherwise). But this hard reset has been life-changing, and I can’t wait to see what’s in store for me.

    All I know is, I’ll be experiencing it with fresh perspective and with a lot less noise in my operating system.

    P.S. – People wanted to purchase a paid subscription, but I haven’t turned that feature on. I am flattered and feel so supported, but I am way more comfortable giving people the option to “buy me a coffee” (i.e. a one-time payment instead of a recurring one). If you are so inclined, here’s the link to my Ko-fi!

  • ¿Porque No?

    A mindset, not an invitation for excuses.

    There was a period of time when one of my besties and I constantly said to each other “porque no?” or “why not?” (hi, D!). It was a rhetorical question, asked with a tone of mischief, chaos, and courage. There was an unspoken “might as well!” that followed. It was our way of egging each other on, for things as trivial as ordering an extra side of fries or as meaningful as starting a new venture.

    It’s way easier to follow through on the things that are relatively inconsequential. Why not have both flavors of ice cream? Why not go to that happy hour? Why not dye your hair red-violet? Why not take a pottery class to see if you like it?

    It’s also easier to hype your friend up than it is to hype yourself up. So when it comes to something that is bigger and scarier, and something that requires you to find the courage in yourself, it can be so difficult to do The Thing.

    … Which brings us here.

    I have thought about starting a blog, newsletter, mailing list, substack, whatever you want to call this thing, for years. And I never got around to it… until now. Here are 20 excuses I’ve made for “why not” — for some reason, interpreting it as a question to answer and not as a “screw it, let’s do it!” attitude:

    1. I don’t know what to write about
    2. I don’t think anyone would read it
    3. I don’t have the time (classic excuse)
    4. I don’t know what I’m doing (another classic excuse)
    5. I don’t have a niche or an area of expertise
    6. I don’t have enough content
    7. I don’t know what to call it
    8. I don’t want to have to explain it to anyone
    9. I don’t want to be judged harshly for my opinions
    10. I don’t want to reread my posts and judge myself
    11. I don’t want to be too vulnerable on the internet
    12. I don’t want to be cringe
    13. I don’t want to be annoying
    14. I don’t want people to think I’m trying too hard
    15. I don’t want people to think I’m not trying hard enough
    16. I don’t know what platform to use
    17. I don’t know how to promote it
    18. I don’t think I’m ready
    19. I don’t want to fail
    20. I don’t want to fail in public

    All of those reasons and feelings are valid. But today is the day I take a big step in my practice of my preaching.

    I don’t have a niche, and I’ve accepted that that’s ok. I am a whole human being, with thoughts and ideas that span many topics. I virtually jot down the most random things in my Notes app. I keep browser tabs open for years because I found something interesting and want to deep dive into it at some point (the count on my phone browser is currently 80, and that’s after some pruning). Many of my favorite accounts on the internet are people who post about whatever. So why can’t that be me?

    My interests are many, varied, and often ignored for years.

    If you know me personally and follow me on social media, you know that what I share ranges from dog photos to dinner recipes to everyday ordinary observations to unhinged takes. I’d like to think of this newsletter as an extension of my instagram stories: showing you the different facets of myself that make up the wonderfully weird person I am. And I hope to build a community here, in my own little corner of the internet, of beautiful multi-faceted human beings like you.

    If you’ve made it this far, thanks! I hope you’ll stay awhile.

    And I hope this inspires you to throw some caution to the wind, ask yourself “porque no?”, and get started on whatever you’re stuck on.