On Management and Knowing When to Let Go

I read Extreme Ownership by Jocko Willink and Leif Babin a few years back. The core idea stuck with me: a leader is 100% responsible for everything that happens under their command. The team’s performance is a direct reflection of its leadership.

It’s a useful framework. And it taught me something I’m still learning: the difference between ownership and attachment.

The Philosophy

The book says blame goes upward. If your team fails, you failed them first. You didn’t train them. You didn’t communicate the mission. You didn’t empower them to act.

That’s true. But it’s incomplete. Real ownership also means recognizing when someone isn’t the right fit, and having the courage to make that call. It means investing in people without losing objectivity. It means building a team that doesn’t need you anymore—and knowing that’s a win, not a loss.

I got attached to my teams. I cared about them. And that made me a better coach. It also made me slow to see problems clearly sometimes, because I was too invested in the outcome.

Learning to let go was the hardest part.

The Results

I stepped into a role at UHaul where the culture needed changing. The logic was simple: invest in people, don’t write them off. If someone wasn’t performing, I’d reflect on what I could do differently. Training was the default.

And it worked. Efficiency increased—we needed fewer people on staff because people worked smarter. Customer reviews went higher than they’d ever been because the attitude changed. People were excited to work.

Over time, I built a team of young men who became self-disciplined, collaborative, and capable. They didn’t need me to tell them what to do anymore. They understood the mission and executed it.

That’s leadership.

Why I Stepped Down

I accomplished what I set out to do: change the culture, build leaders, test my abilities. I proved I could do it. But I also realized management wasn’t the path I wanted long-term. I didn’t see myself as a district manager, and I wasn’t interested in climbing that ladder.

So I stepped down to pursue something that excited me more: transitioning into IT.

Walking away wasn’t failure. It was clarity. The team I built didn’t need me anymore because I’d done my job right. They were ready to go forward without me.

What This Means Now

I’m taking the same approach to technical work that I took to management: accountability, discipline, continuous improvement, and genuine investment in doing things well. Those aren’t management-only skills. They’re habits.

I care about the work I do and the people I work with. I believe how you approach a problem—the rigor, the thoughtfulness, the ownership—matters as much as solving it.

That won’t change, whatever role I’m in.