Taha Hussain's Linkedin Analytics

Mentorship is overrated. You need a sponsor. Mentors give advice. Sponsors give opportunity. Mentors say, “You should speak up more.” Sponsors say, “I want you leading the next demo.” Mentors give feedback. Sponsors give air cover. The truth? Advice doesn’t change careers. Access does. Most people think they need someone to guide them. What they actually need is someone with power who’s willing to use it on their behalf. But that’s harder to ask for. Harder to find. Harder to admit. Because it requires visibility. It requires showing your ambition. It requires being seen as someone worth betting on. Mentorship is safe. Sponsorship is a risk — for both sides. But it’s also where the real doors open.

If you’re the top performer on your team but you're still: – being interrupted in meetings – passed over for higher roles – asked to “just help out” after the decision was made Then let me say this, clearly: You trained them to underestimate you. You said yes to too much. You played nice. You carried the weight but gave away the credit. And now? They don’t see a genius. They see someone who gets sh*t done quietly. Here’s what they’ll never say out loud: They like you invisible. Useful. Non-threatening. Replaceable. If you want to change that? Stop softening your voice to protect their ego. Stop letting mediocre voices dominate the room. Stop waiting for your turn like someone’s coming to tap your shoulder. You're not being overlooked because you're not ready. You're being overlooked because you made it easy. Change the story. Claim the spotlight. Lead technical standards before you’re invited. And if you’re ready, start here → https://lnkd.in/gMGfmVas You earned the influence. Now make sure they feel every inch of it.

The best engineers on LinkedIn are hiding in plain sight. No personal branding. No viral threads. No hot takes. They're too busy doing something more valuable: Becoming better. You'll find them in the comments, asking: → "Where did you learn that pattern?" → "How did you handle that edge case?" → "Can you explain that system design again?" While others hunt for burnout stories, they hunt for gaps to fill. The best teachers aren't the ones with 68K followers. They're the ones who stay curious.

The most dangerous person in a technical org? The one who delivers every sprint and leaves the team a little dumber each time. They don’t yell. They don’t break things. They don’t miss deadlines. They just quietly hoard knowledge, over-optimize for speed, and “help” by doing it all themselves. By the time you notice, the team’s running perfectly — straight off a cliff. Because high output isn’t high leverage. And “just let me fix it” isn’t greatness. It’s a slow-motion failure disguised as competence. — Join 8000+ brilliant minds reading my weekly newsletter, The Conscious Leader, cultivating skills for modern leadership: https://lnkd.in/g3J25k5w

Writing perfect code won't save your career. Harsh? Good. Because here's the uncomfortable truth: Your boss doesn’t remember that clean pull request from last quarter. The CEO doesn’t know your name, much less your commits. You’re invisible. If you want respect—real respect, not shallow pats on the back at sprint reviews—start doing things they can't ignore: → Document publicly. Don’t just solve problems—share how you solved them. → Speak up. Stop nodding along. Say the hard thing—kindly, clearly, early. → Automate yourself out of a job. Yes, really. The most secure engineers make themselves indispensable by being replaceable. You think technical excellence guarantees career safety? It doesn’t. Visibility does. Stop hiding behind your code. Start engineering your reputation. And if you’re ready, start here → https://lnkd.in/gMGfmVas

When I was a Sr. Engineer, I used to write essays in every PR. I defended every pattern. Pushed back on every deviation. People called me “thorough.” Then one day, a quiet engineer pulled me aside and asked: “Are you helping or just showing off?” That line split me open. I realized I wasn’t protecting quality. I was protecting my ego. I slowed the team down. Created tension no one talked about. Made collaboration harder than it needed to be. Since then? I ask more. Comment less. Unblock fast. Trust quicker. Because the best senior engineers don’t make themselves the center of gravity. They clear the runway and get the hell out of the way. — Join 8000+ brilliant minds reading my weekly newsletter, The Conscious Leader, cultivating skills for modern leadership: https://lnkd.in/g3J25k5w

We call them “soft” skills so we can ignore who’s doing the hard work. The calming voice in the tense meeting. The one who rewrites the angry message before it’s sent. The one who stays after the standup because someone looked off. That’s not soft. That’s load-bearing. But we don’t track it. We don’t promote for it. We don’t even say thank you. And yet — it’s the reason the team still works. Most of this labor is emotional. And most of it is invisible. Carried quietly by the most stable person in the room. The one who doesn’t break. The one who holds the line. The one we keep turning to — without noticing we’re doing it. So if that’s you: I see it. If it’s not you: maybe look around. Because every team has someone holding the center. — Join 8000+ brilliant minds reading my weekly newsletter, The Conscious Leader, cultivating skills for modern leadership: https://lnkd.in/g3J25k5w And they’re tired.

Your top engineer didn’t leave for better pay. He left because your roadmap was fiction. Every standup. Every retro. Every all-hands. You promised impact. But by sprint’s end, he was coding in circles. So he left. Not for free lunches. Not for stock options. Not for a shinier title. But for a team whose roadmap wasn't a fantasy. You can't buy loyalty with perks. You earn it by turning promises into reality. Check your backlog. Before someone else does.

“Hire the best talent, and the rest will take care of itself.” But even the best talent fails in a broken system. A rockstar engineer can’t thrive in a culture with: No clear priorities. Poor communication. A lack of psychological safety. Your job isn’t just to hire great people. It's to build an environment where great people can do their best work. Fix the system, not the org chart. Because the best talent in the world can’t save a team from bad leadership.

The more reliable you are, the more invisible you become. You fix the fire. You stay late. You do the thankless work without complaining. Everyone depends on you. But no one promotes you. Because reliability is quiet. And quiet doesn’t get rewarded in loud systems. You want to believe the spotlight will find you. That your work will speak for itself. That one day, someone will finally say, “You’ve earned it.” But here’s the truth: The longer you carry the team, the heavier your silence becomes. Eventually, they forget what the team would look like without you. Because you’ve made it too smooth. Too stable. Too easy. And in that comfort, they start promoting chaos. The loud ones. The edge-case heroes. The people who sell half-baked ideas with full-volume confidence. You stay reliable. They rise. Not because they’re better — but because they’re visible. — Join 8000+ brilliant minds reading my weekly newsletter, The Conscious Leader, cultivating skills for modern leadership: https://lnkd.in/g3J25k5w

The best engineer on your team might never get promoted. Why? Because promotions aren’t a reward for great work. They’re a byproduct of: — How well your manager can sell you — How visible your impact is — How clean your narrative sounds in a calibration meeting It’s not always fair. But it’s almost always true. You can write clean, scalable code for 18 months. Fix fires. Mentor juniors. Uplevel the entire backend. But if your work is quiet? If your wins aren’t packaged? If your manager’s too passive to advocate? You get... nothing. Meanwhile, someone else ships a shiny demo, spins a crisp story, and gets the bump. Performance matters. But positioning moves careers. So if you want the next level? Don’t just work harder. Build your visibility. Control your narrative. Give your manager ammunition, not ambiguity. Because the worst-kept secret in tech? Your next level won’t be unlocked by your code. It’ll be unlocked by the story someone tells about you in a room you’re not in. Write the story for them. Or let someone else become the main character. And if you’re ready, start here: https://lnkd.in/gMGfmVas

Yesterday I did it. Woke up at 5am. Wrote 3,000 words. Closed a client deal. 40-minute workout. Ate clean. No Clash Royale. Meditated. Read. Asleep by 9:15pm. Woke up feeling like a monk in Patagonia. Today? Woke up late. Drank cold coffee. Procrastinated until 11. Doom-scrolled. Didn't write a single word. Ate pasta out of the pot. Skipped the workout. Skipped the shower. Skipped the day, basically. Still alive. Still loved. Still worthy. We aren’t productivity machines. We’re just people. Trying our best. Dropping the ball. Picking it back up. The goal isn’t to win every day. It’s to not quit the week. — Join 8000+ brilliant minds reading my weekly newsletter, The Conscious Leader, cultivating skills for modern leadership: https://lnkd.in/g3J25k5w

10 rules for senior engineers: 𝟭. 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝘆. You get credit for building a system that doesn’t need saving. If you crave applause, take up acting. 𝟮. 𝗡𝗼 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗵. That’s not trust. That’s loneliness dressed as autonomy. 𝟯. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗲𝘁, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝘂𝗶𝗹𝗱. And the more everything broken is still your fault. Even the things you didn’t touch. 𝟰. 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗺 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗶𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆. Any engineer can write code. Only a few can do it while prod’s on fire and a VP’s crying in Slack. 𝟱. 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝘀𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹 𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻. You’ll have to hear it in what’s not being said. Read the silence—it’s practically screaming. 𝟲. 𝗬𝗼𝘂’𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 “𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨𝙣’𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙟𝙤𝙗.” And you’ll do it anyway. That’s when you stop being a contributor and start being a leader. 𝟳. 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆’𝗹𝗹 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝘆𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹. You’re not. You’ve just seen the same fire five times and know how it burns. 𝟴. 𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂. But a team that won’t speak up? That’ll keep you up at night. 𝟵. 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. You earn it by owning your mistakes— especially when they’re loud, late, and public. 𝟭𝟬. 𝗧𝗼𝗽 𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗺𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝘀𝘁. They move on purpose. Speed’s just a side effect. — If you’re ready to transform your career, start here: https://lnkd.in/gbZHGtfe

Back at Microsoft, a senior engineer in my org collaborated way too much. It reached a point where I had to intervene and put him in his place. He was the oracle of the team – mentor, troubleshooter, a walking Wikipedia. Impressive? Yes. But practical? Hardly. He was drowning in everyone else's problems, neglecting his own tasks. His manager was caught in a loop: "He's my MVP for getting things done." "But where's his own stuff?" "I love teamwork, but this is too much." The strange part? This dude was at peace, taking a hit on his scorecard. He was in a league of his own, getting a buzz from a fix far sweeter than personal glory – the high of lifting the squad. But mentoring's tricky. Newbies often confuse rescuing with empowering. Our hero was stuck in this pattern, a perpetual lifeline for the familiar few. So, I suggested a change: "Help others, by all means, but only in the mornings. That's the prime time for standups and planning." With the clock ticking, our hero had to refactor his approach: He documented those life-saving scripts. He pointed the compass but let them chart the course. He started discussions but didn't spoon-feed the answers. Fast forward a few sprints, lo and behold, our hero morphed into a multiplier. His impact skyrocketed. I had no choice but to put him in his place - a well-deserved, out-of-cycle promotion. Got a team player turned savior in your squad? Let them fly. Guide them to optimize their superhero code. Then watch them grow in ways they never thought possible. If you're ready to become the multiplier on your team, start here: https://lnkd.in/gMGfmVas

Your best engineer just canceled another 1:1. “Something urgent came up,” she said. Again. But nothing urgent came up. She just realized your meeting isn’t worth her time. It didn’t happen overnight. First, she offered ideas. You nodded politely, then ignored them. Then she questioned priorities. You thanked her, then changed nothing. Now she smiles. Says nothing. And quietly refreshes LinkedIn between builds. Check your calendar. Every canceled 1:1 is a resignation letter in draft mode. Here’s how I finally stopped my engineers from quitting quietly: https://lnkd.in/gwXXeuK5

The biggest scam in corporate life? "Visibility." You spend months making real impact behind the scenes... Then someone else gets promoted because they "showed up" more in meetings. Here's the truth they won’t put in your onboarding manual: - Doing the work isn't enough. - Having results isn’t enough. - Being liked isn’t enough. Visibility is the game. But here's the part they didn’t expect: You can choose where you get seen. On LinkedIn, your wins don’t need a boss's permission. You don’t need to wait for your manager to brag about you. - What you built. - What you fixed. - What you learned. Public writing is visibility with leverage. Visibility that compounds. The kind that builds demand before you sell. So don’t just work harder. Be seen strategically. Otherwise, you're invisible in all the right rooms—and too visible in all the wrong ones. And if you’re ready to show up in the right rooms, start here: https://lnkd.in/gMGfmVas

The best people don’t leave for money. They leave when the signal-to-noise ratio gets bad. 🚩 Too many priorities. Nothing feels important. 🚩 Too many meetings. No time for deep work. 🚩 Too much bureaucracy. Every decision is a battle. They joined to build. They leave when everything gets in the way of that. You don’t keep great people by offering perks. You keep them by protecting their focus. Fewer distractions. Fewer roadblocks. Fewer reasons to wonder, "Why am I still here?" Because when noise goes up, talent walks out. I’ve been there. I saw my best engineers check out long before they resigned. So I made three changes—and they did more than just stop the exits. Read about them here: https://lnkd.in/gsST65Ud What’s one thing making it harder for your team to focus right now?

I once had a senior engineer who rarely spoke in meetings. Sharp as hell, but quiet. We assumed he was disengaged. Maybe even checked out. Then came the production outage. Multi-region failure. Chaos. While we were all scrambling—arguing root cause, arguing each other—he opened his laptop, stared at Grafana, made one change. Everything came back. No speech. No swagger. Just uptime. Later, over coffee, I asked why he never spoke up in those meetings. He shrugged: “You all had more to say. I was listening.” I think about that a lot—how we reward loud confidence, when what we often need is quiet competence. That’s why I built The Top Engineer Method. It has helped hundreds of engineers transform into senior engineers and higher. If that sounds like you, start here: https://lnkd.in/gbZHGtfe

Your ego will get you killed in a toxic workplace. I watched it happen at Microsoft. 🚩 Engineers who pushed for the “right” decision—sidelined. 🚩 Managers who refused to play politics—steamrolled. 🚩 New hires who thought talent mattered—burned out. In a fear-driven environment, logic won’t save you. People are too busy looking for knives in their backs. So I stopped fighting with their ego. And started studying it like a map. What they wanted. What they avoided. What they refused to say out loud. And when I did, everything changed. Here’s what I learned: https://lnkd.in/g5Fqj_uZ

She always said yes. Took the extra project. Turned her camera on. Stayed late. Smiled in meetings. Met every deadline. And one day, she quit. No notice. No drama. Just gone. The exit survey said “burnout.” But that wasn’t it. She was burned out from pretending. Pretending she was fine. Pretending the work mattered. Pretending her manager’s feedback wasn’t a gut punch. Pretending she didn’t hear the tone shift when she said “I’m pregnant.” She didn’t want a break. She wanted to be believed. But no one asked. So she stopped answering. Now she's gone. And they’re still asking how to improve “retention.”