What Five Managers at Tesla Taught Me About Leadership (and Myself)
A personal journey through five managers in four years—what I learned, what I endured, and what I’ll carry forward.
In my 4+ years at Tesla, I’ve had five managers.
Some left the company. Others left me.
Some built me up. Others held me back.
Some I admired. Others I tolerated.
But each one—every single one—shaped the way I see leadership, engineering, and myself.
This post isn’t about calling anyone out. It’s about calling something in: a deeper understanding of what it means to be led well, and what I now value in myself and others because of it.
1. The Craftsman: Precision, Patents, and Poise
My first manager set the bar high.
They were among the best in their field—meticulous, technically brilliant, and deeply respected by peers and leaders alike. Their innovation was published, in every single Tesla on the road, their name was on patents. And their presence alone commanded attention in meetings.
They didn’t move fast—they moved intentionally. And when they advised me, I listened not because I had to, but because I knew they’d earned their credibility through years of doing.
They eventually left for a higher-profile role. But their standards stayed with me. They showed me what it looks like to lead with both rigor and quiet respect.
2. The Placeholder: When You Outgrow the Teacher
After they left, their successor stepped in—well-meaning but unprepared.
They didn’t understand my work. And so, I became the teacher. I trained them in everything I’d learned from the previous manager. I built the roadmap. I carried the load. I adapted.
And after more than a year of that, I had a realization:
If I’m the one enabling progress, why am I still waiting for permission to lead?
This wasn’t about ego. It was about misalignment. My abilities weren’t being unlocked. They were being stifled. I didn’t feel empowered—I felt stalled.
So I left. Not Tesla—just that team. (This was the same time I discovered mind-manifesting supplements which helped me make this difficult decision).
And in doing so, I crossed into something new.
3. The Builder: Empowerment in Action
This third manager was one of the best I’ve had.
They were technically strong, trusted by senior leaders, and—maybe most importantly—respected by their team. They had that rare ability to make everyone around them better without needing the spotlight themselves.
They gave me stretch projects. They respected my ideas. They listened. They shone light on me, not just through me.
I felt challenged, supported, and seen.
And when they eventually left, the team and I felt the absence deeply. Not just because they were good at what they did—but because they made us better at what we did. After they left, the team slowly disintegrated.
4. The Empath: Heart Without Hands
For once, I got to help choose my next manager.
There was one person I believed would help rebuild the team—a peer I observed from a distance. I recommended them for the role, even though I’d applied myself. I was told I was “too young.” So I stepped aside.
Over the next year, I gave that manager a real chance.
They had one major strength: care.
They truly cared about the team. They improved work-life balance. They brought empathy into a team that was extremely technical but didn’t have work-life balance.
But they lacked the technical depth. And in Tesla’s ecosystem, that matters.
Over time, I became the silent engine behind the curtain—offering technical guidance, making key decisions, doing the work in my 1-1’s with them. I wasn’t the manager, but I often felt like the one people turned to.
They fought for me behind the scenes—for a raise, even for a promotion to staff—but no one listened to them. Because respect in leadership requires more than just advocacy. It requires influence.
Eventually, I realized I was again playing a role I wasn’t getting paid or credited for. And that’s when I chose to transition to become the PM for the team.
5. The Friend: Safety and Disappointment
My fifth and current manager felt like home—at first.
We’d known each other a long time. There was familiarity, comfort, and a sense of ease. For a while, I felt extremely safe here. They treated me like family.
But just like with family, over time, the cracks began to show.
Their support was conditional. They respected me—so long as I delivered. But they didn’t advocate for me when it mattered. They confided in me not as a peer, but as an outlet for their own insecurities: frustrations about being left off executive emails, anxiety about decisions, fears about me not being close when I was traveling (even for work).
I wasn’t just an engineer. I had become a confidant. A therapist. A backstage operator again.
And when I eventually looked for another opportunity—quietly, because I had to advocate for myself—their reaction wasn’t gratitude for my contribution or well-wishes for my future.
It was cold. Withdrawn. Shunning.
And that’s when I knew:
A good manager doesn’t punish growth. They celebrate it—even when it means you outgrow them.
What I Now Know
Across five managers, I’ve been empowered and ignored. I’ve been respected and minimized. I’ve been built up and broken down.
But here’s what I carry forward:
Empowerment is everything. A good manager doesn’t hold you back. They unlock you.
Technical depth matters. Especially at a meritocracy like Tesla, where engineering drives credibility.
Respect must be earned—both ways. A manager should never lean on their reports for validation.
True leadership means advocating even when no one is watching.
If you’re doing the job behind the scenes, you eventually start asking: Why not me?
I don’t know if I’ll be a manager someday. But if I am, I know exactly what kind I want to be—and what kind I don’t want to become.
To those reading this who have a great manager: don’t take it for granted.
To those who don’t: you’re not alone.
And to my future self, wherever you go next—remember this path.
You earned every step.