Why moving from management to IC isn't a step backwards

October 21, 2025 • 1649 words • 8 min read

🏷️ fleet work company culture values management leadership career

I’ve been fielding the same question a lot lately, even though no one actually says it out loud.

They ask things like “How are you finding the transition?” or “What made you decide to make the change?” or my personal favorite: “So… what’s next for you?”

But I know what they’re really asking: “How does it feel to step backwards in your career?”

The question comes up because I recently moved from a Senior Manager of IT Engineering role into an individual contributor position as a Customer Support Engineer. On paper, or more accurately on LinkedIn, it looks like a demotion.

But here’s the thing: I don’t see it as a step backwards at all. In fact, I think the entire premise of the question is flawed.

Leadership isn’t a job title

We confuse leadership with management all the time. We treat them like synonyms when they’re fundamentally different things.

Management is a role. It comes with direct reports, budget authority, and a spot in the hierarchy. Leadership is a mindset. It’s influence. It’s the ability to move people toward better outcomes, regardless of where you sit in the org chart.

Not every manager is a leader. We’ve all worked for managers who checked boxes, ran meetings, and approved time off—but never actually led anyone anywhere. They managed processes. They didn’t inspire change or growth.

And not every leader is a manager. Some of the most influential people I’ve worked with had zero direct reports. They led through expertise, through building trust, through showing up consistently and making everyone around them better.

When people ask about stepping backwards, they’re really asking: “Don’t you miss being important?” But for me, leadership was never about the title. It was about impact.

I became a manager to protect my team

I didn’t pursue management because I wanted to climb a ladder. I became a manager because my team needed protection.

We had an incredible manager who really understood us. He created psychological safety. He ran interference with bureaucracy. He gave us room to do our best work. When he left for another opportunity, I saw what was coming and I didn’t like the look of it.

I’d seen bad management before. The kind that micromanages away autonomy. The kind that adds process for process’s sake. The kind that optimizes for appearance over outcomes. My team didn’t deserve that.

So I stepped into the role. Not because I dreamed of being a manager, but because someone needed to continue what was already working. The goal was simple: keep the team healthy, keep morale high, keep the bureaucracy at bay.

At the core of that decision was a desire to help people. That mattered more to me than the title ever did.

Management came with tradeoffs I didn’t expect

Managing was hard, and not in the ways I expected.

The work itself was fine. I learned to navigate politics, write performance reviews, and advocate for budget. I was ok at the job.

But I missed building things. I missed being in the code, solving technical problems, learning new tools. Management meetings replaced deep work. Strategy documents replaced shipping features.

The hardest part? Watching the engineers I’d mentored do the work I was excited about while I sat on the sidelines and cheered them on. Don’t get me wrong, it was incredibly rewarding to see them grow, to watch them tackle challenging problems and ship great solutions. I was proud of them.

But there was also this persistent hint of sadness. I wasn’t in there with them building cool things anymore. I was adjacent to the work instead of in it. I’d gone from being a player to being a coach, and while coaching mattered, I realized I still wanted to play.

I also realized I was good at the technical work in a way that felt effortless. Management required more energy for less natural reward. I was competent at it, but I wasn’t lighting up.

And here’s what nobody told me: management can be really lonely. You can’t always be honest with your team about the pressures from above. You can’t vent to your peers about team challenges without feeling like you’re betraying trust. You end up holding a lot of context that you can’t share.

I kept asking myself: am I doing this because it’s what I want, or because it’s what I thought I was supposed to want?

What I actually wanted became clear

After leaving my last role, I spent time thinking about what I wanted next.

I wanted to work for a company that did something I believed in and was proud of. I wanted to be surrounded by smart people who were excited about the work they were doing. I wanted to work for a company with values that aligned with my own, and a culture where I could thrive.

The role itself? That was secondary.

It wasn’t that I never wanted to be a manager again. Management taught me valuable things, and I’d consider it again in the right context. But what mattered most was finding the right environment first. The rest would follow.

The support engineer role looked like leadership in disguise

When the Customer Support Engineer position opened up at Fleet, I saw something that surprised me: it looked like leadership work.

Not management. Leadership.

The role sits at the intersection of customers, product, and engineering. It requires technical depth, communication skill, and the ability to influence outcomes across teams. It means translating customer pain into product improvements. It means building trust with users who are frustrated or stuck.

That’s influence. That’s impact. That’s leadership.

And here’s what sealed it: I’d still be helping people. Just differently. Instead of helping my team navigate organizational challenges, I’d be helping customers solve real problems with our product. That desire to help people, the same one that drove me into management, could show up in this role too.

I’d be working directly with the people using our product, understanding their problems deeply, and turning that understanding into better solutions. I’d be building things again. Learning constantly. Solving problems that mattered.

It also meant working at a company whose values actually aligned with mine. Fleet’s commitment to openness and transparency isn’t just marketing, it’s in the handbook, the codebase, and every conversation I had during the interview process.

So when people ask if it feels like a step backwards, I think they’re measuring the wrong things. They’re counting levels and titles. I’m counting impact and alignment.

What actually matters in a career

Here’s what I’ve learned: career progression isn’t linear, and it shouldn’t be.

Some years you grow by taking on more responsibility. Some years you grow by going deeper into craft. Some years you grow by changing direction entirely.

The idea that you should always be moving “up” assumes that up is the only direction worth going. But what if a different direction gets you closer to work you love? What if a different path lets you rebuild skills that atrophied?

I spent years in management protecting my team and learning how organizations work. That wasn’t wasted time. I’m bringing all of that context into this new role. I understand how decisions get made. I know how to navigate ambiguity. I can advocate effectively because I’ve seen both sides.

But now I’m also getting back to technical work. I’m learning Fleet’s product deeply. I’m building relationships with customers. I’m contributing to a product I care about and a mission I believe in.

That’s not a step backwards. That’s growth in a different direction.

Leadership shows up everywhere

You don’t need direct reports to lead. You need to show up, do great work, and make people around you better.

Leadership is the support engineer who turns a frustrated customer into an advocate by really listening and solving their problem.

Leadership is the IC who mentors junior team members even though it’s not in their job description.

Leadership is the person who spots a systemic issue and drives change, even when it’s not their department.

Leadership is influence, and influence comes from competence, consistency, and care.

I’m still leading. I’m just doing it differently now.

The real question isn’t about stepping backwards

When people dance around asking about my transition, they’re usually asking one of two things:

Either they’re worried about me: did I get pushed out, am I okay, is this really what I want? (I appreciate the concern. I’m good. This was my choice, and I’m excited about it.)

Or they’re asking for themselves: is it okay to want something different than the path I’m on? Is it okay to step away from management? Is it okay to optimize for happiness over hierarchy?

And the answer is yes. It’s absolutely okay.

Your career is yours. Not your parents’, not your peers’, not LinkedIn’s. If the path you’re on isn’t working, change direction. If the title doesn’t match the work you want to do, find work that does.

Management isn’t the only path forward. That’s not a failure, it’s self-awareness. And honestly, we’d have better organizations if more people made intentional choices about whether management was right for them.

What I’m taking with me

I’m grateful for my time in management. I learned how to think strategically. I learned how to advocate for people. I learned how organizations move and how to work within systems.

But I’m even more grateful to be moving into a role where I can lead through craft, through direct customer impact, and through building something I believe in. Where I can help people solve real problems. Where I’m surrounded by people who care about their work and the values behind it.

That’s not a step backwards. That’s a step toward work that lights me up.

And honestly? That feels like exactly the right direction.