The Modern Leader
I forget sometimes how much weight my words carry.
Last week, I sent a quick message in a team Slack channel:
“Just out of curiosity, do we know how many customers are using [X feature]?”
Within minutes, two of the team’s four engineers were digging through dashboards, posting SQL snippets, and dropping early numbers.
I hadn’t asked anyone to do anything. I was literally just curious.
But that’s the thing about seniority: your curiosity sounds like a command.
I followed up with, “This isn’t a priority, please don’t let it distract you,” which is probably what I should’ve led with. But the invisible gun had already been drawn.
The moment you forget you're the boss
It happens quietly. One day, you’re just another person in the room tossing around ideas. Then, almost imperceptibly, your title starts to do the talking for you. What used to be curiosity now sounds like strategy. A passing comment about a feature turns into a full-blown task. You don’t feel any different, but the people around you do. And if they never knew you other than being a leader, there was no gradual moment for them. Just for you.
That’s the invisible gun of leadership — the unspoken power that comes with seniority. You don’t mean harm, but your words land heavier now. They ripple through the team, shaping priorities, sparking new threads, or killing conversations you didn’t even realize were still alive.
You don't even need to be a manager for this to happen. Senior-level engineers can hold the invisible gun with more junior folks. Staff engineers especially. But when you're in a position of management, it's especially apparent. Your authority by default gives you influence, even if you don't mean to be influential.
The strangest part is how natural it feels to forget. You still think you’re just brainstorming. You still crave honest debate. But while you’re searching for ideas, your team is searching your tone for direction. That’s not ego — it’s the quiet physics of influence.
The fallout you don’t see
When leaders forget the gun, a few things happen.
People stop challenging you. Teams chase ghosts. Someone’s halfway through writing a document you never meant for anyone to write.
From the outside, it looks like enthusiasm — your team jumping on ideas fast, eager to execute. But underneath, there’s usually anxiety. Did we do what she wanted? Did we move fast enough? Did we miss something?
That’s how good teams burn out. Not because of pressure, but because they mistake every spark of curiosity as a fire drill.
What awareness looks like
You can’t get rid of the invisible gun. You can only hold it safely.
Label your intent. Open with, “I’m just thinking out loud,” or “This isn’t a request.” Those words buy your team a moment to pause before reacting.
Ask before you suggest. “Do you want ideas, or should I just listen?” Sometimes people need to be heard, not directed.
Be mindful of timing. Curiosity dropped mid-sprint sounds like new scope. And be especially mindful when you're nearing the end of a major deadline. Save it for retros or planning sessions.
Normalize pushback. Tell your team, “If this doesn’t make sense, push back.” Then actually thank them when they do.
The unglamorous part of seniority
People talk about “executive presence” like it’s about posture and confidence. But presence is also power, and power distorts feedback. The higher you climb, the less likely people are to tell you when you’re wrong.
The real work of leadership isn’t about appearing decisive. It’s about creating safety in the shadow of your authority.
So yes, you’re carrying an invisible gun. You didn’t ask for it. You can’t put it down.
But you can remember it’s there. And you can keep your finger off the trigger.