
Previous 📜 The Gospel of Product Monk
Let me paint you a picture.
You’re a product manager. It’s Day One at your new job. You walk in all excited, ready to change the world. They gave you a MacBook, a Notion link, and a warm-ish “Welcome to the team!” Slack message. You’re hopeful. This is going to be your thing. Your era. Maybe even your Stripe arc.
And then your manager shows up.
“Here’s the spec. Here’s the Figma. Just follow the checklist. Oh, and I already told the designer what the button should say: ‘Click Me Please’.”
Your soul exits your body gently.
Weeks pass. You realize you’re not managing a product — you’re executing Jira tickets written by someone who thinks Agile means “add more meetings.” Welcome, my friend, to Spoonfeeding Nation. Population: too many.
Now contrast that with two other alternate realities: one where you’re Coached, and one where you’re Guided. They sound similar, but they’re very, very different — and they make or break your growth, confidence, and mental health.
Let’s dive into the three types of organizational management cultures. Because whether you’re joining a company, evaluating a new role, or just trying to figure out why your calendar makes you cry — this stuff matters.
In guidance cultures, leadership says: “Here’s the mountain we’re climbing. How you get there is your call — we trust you.” This is 10% input, 90% execution — but the good kind of execution. Not task-chasing, but actual decision-making.
You get goals, not instructions. You make trade-offs, not decks. You own outcomes, not timelines.
Claire Vo would be proud. Lenny Rachitsky would call it “alignment over control.” Naval would nod sagely and mutter something about leverage.
These are places where PMs are respected, trusted, and — wait for it — allowed to think.
They say things like:
“What’s your take on this?”
“Pick the strategy that feels right.”
“Let me know how I can unblock you.”
And they actually mean it.
Guidance-led orgs are rare. Like unicorns that ship on time.
Coaching is beautiful. It’s where managers don’t just assign — they invest.
They’re in the trenches with you, helping you sharpen your instincts without dulling your ownership. It’s more than feedback — it’s skill-building in disguise.
Your manager acts like a coach, not a coordinator. They help you see options, weigh trade-offs, avoid blind spots. They don’t write the playbook — they help you write your own.
This is the zone where 30% of your time is boosted by guidance, and the other 70% is pure, glorious, independent hustle. It’s empowering, developmental, and occasionally terrifying. (Which is good. Growth is supposed to be spicy.)
You’ll hear phrases like:
“Here are three ways I’ve seen this tackled — want to try one?”
“This failed before — want to debrief what went wrong?”
“What would you do if you weren’t afraid?”
This is where good PMs become great. It’s also where feedback is a gift, not a Google Form.
Think early Stripe, Atlassian, or pretty much any team where Jeff Weiner would happily host an offsite.
Ah, spoonfeeding. The love language of insecure managers and founder-led mini-empires.
Here, you get detailed instructions, pre-built specs, zero context, and just enough responsibility to feel like you have a job — but never enough to actually matter.
Innovation is nonexistent. Initiative is punished. And if you ask a strategic question? You get a Notion doc, a sigh, and a passive-aggressive Loom video.
Employees here are:
Hired cheap,
Trained never,
Promoted rarely,
And retained forever (because they stopped dreaming years ago).
Attrition? Low. Morale? Also low. But hey, the founder gets a new Porsche every year.
Case in point? Z***
It’s a prime example of a spoonfeeding culture: founder-led forever, hires from its own internal feeder college, celebrates low attrition like it’s a feature not a bug. Product decisions flow top-down. Employees stay because they don’t know better. Stability becomes stagnation. And yet — on paper — it all looks “fine.”
Until you realize you’ve spent three years renaming buttons.
Let’s be real. Everyone says they have a great culture. Everyone says they “empower” teams. No one puts “Micromanagement + Trauma” on their Careers page.
So, in interviews, ask these:
“How are product decisions made?”
“Can you walk me through how a feature goes from idea to launch?”
“What’s something a PM here completely owned, end-to-end?”
“What happens when something fails?”
“What does mentorship look like here — frameworks or checklists?”
Watch their faces. Listen for vague answers. Pay attention to whether they name-drop a founder too often.
And always, always ask: “What’s your attrition rate?” Then ask, “Why do people usually leave?” If they say, “Oh no one ever leaves!” — run. That’s not culture. That’s captivity.
Your career is too short to be micromanaged. If you’re going to build something great, you need room to think, room to fail, and room to grow.
Guidance is gold. Coaching is silver. Spoonfeeding is a glue trap with snacks.
Choose wisely.
And if this post made you uncomfortably self-aware — congrats. You’re still salvageable.