Job titles are a team anti-pattern
“We have two designers, two front-end developers, 2 back-end developers, and a tester.”
“Allie and Jim tend to lay out most of the pages, with help from the others. Joe, Alice, Bob and Alan tend to write most of the code, with Bob and Alan working mainly on the server side of things. Darren makes sure our work matches up to what’s expected.”
Which is better?
Job titles are labels
Labelling people with job titles as shorthand is one thing, but if we’re not careful our use of them can be dysfunctional:
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Labels limit people’s potential. Our labels will limit what people will work on: they’ll subconciously start to stick to what their title says. This will happen even if they’re good people: it’s human nature to react to the culture which our team creates.
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People hide behind the label. “That’s designer work, that’s not what I’m good at.” This gets worse when we get more specific: “I’m a front end developer: I don’t write Ruby.” This stops techniques like Kanban working effectively as people are less likely to help each other, and creates silos of knowledge in the team.
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Labels reduce people to resources. “We need 4.2 developer days for this project, with 2.4 designer days per developer day.” Labels are interchangeable: people aren’t. Some developers are orders of magnitude more productive than others, for example. By homogenising the team, we’re extracting the soul from the company: we might as well be selling crude oil, not people’s expertise.
I’ve recently tried to stop using labels to describe myself: see my twitter bio for example. It’s been an interesting exercise, and I’d recommend it.
Selling services by team, not label
One problem we run into is when we run companies which sell client services by the hour. It’s easy to put together a rate card for different job titles, but this exacerbates the label problem and embeds it into the economics. I prefer the method of selling whole team-weeks to the client, rather than individual developers: “This crack team of people will set you back £10,000 per week”, for example.
Remember: the team environment is perfectly designed to achieve the result we’re currently getting. How are our job titles and labels affecting the way our team works today?
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Your Code Is A Liability
Every chunk of code you commit is more for someone else to read, digest and understand.
Every complex “clever” expression requires another few minutes of effort for each of your team. They must now interpret what you wrote and why you wrote it.
Every line you add limits your project’s responsiveness to change.
Your code is a liability. Never forget this.
Read moreWhy you can scale agile with the right attitudes
The more I work with teams, the more I think agile at any scale lives or dies based on attitudes of people in the organisation, rather than the scale at which you are attempting to do it.
Software development is hard, and it’s harder the greater the scale as Rachel’s post eloquently argues. However, I don’t think the scale is always the limiting factor here.
I’ve seen small teams with such a lack of trust that they burden themselves with suffocating process, and larger organisations with so much trust that they’re able to operate at the speed of organisations a quarter of their size.
As organisations get bigger, the trust required gets greater. If the trust exists, teams are able to remain independent and don’t get burdened with process.
If you need to work at one thing to make your large organisation more agile, work on building trust between teams, and between teams and management. Try small wins, quick feedback, and constant celebration. Decentralise decisions, give people ownership in their areas, and act like they’re as good as you know they are.
If middle and upper management could be persuaded to give up control and provide leadership instead, your scale matters much less than you might think.
Read moreWhy BDD works solo, and why that matters for everyone
“The monotony and solitude of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind.”
– Albert Einstein
It’s possible to play chess and many other games completely solo, without anyone else to play against.
Incredibly, our minds are able to take on the role of both players in a competitive match. Our brains allow us to place ourselves in the opposing player’s shoes. Even more impressively, we are able to hide certain information from our own decision making process – such as what we’re planning to do next turn. We can analyse this incomplete set of information and play a move based solely on that, even if it’s sub-optimal.
BDD can be done solo
Using Behaviour-driven Development (BDD) on our own is much the same as playing a game against ourselves.
Instead of playing the opposing role, we take on the role of the stakeholder. We put ourselves in the shoes of the person paying for or commissioning the project. Because the BDD practice of writing gherkin-style features forces us to think in plain English, we jettison the role of programmer for a moment, and drift in the non-technical solution thought-space.
Why is this important? It’s a valuable exercise for a couple of reasons:
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We gain a fresh perspective on what we are doing. By taking our heads out of the code and putting ourselves into the role of the stakeholder, we are able to see the wood for the trees and get perspective on the code we’re writing right now. It might be interesting code to write, but does it matter?
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We gain a fresh perspective on the stresses of others. Every developer should take the opportunity to be a stakeholder once in a while. It’s very helpful to see what life it like on the other side of the estimation table. If all the members on a team are able empathise with the constraints and pressures our colleagues from different disciplines have, our team will run much more smoothly.
BDD solo is why BDD matters in the first place
Sometimes we confuse the concepts behind BDD with the tools used to practice BDD, like 3 amigo meetings, story breakdown and Cucumber.
BDD isn’t about the tools we use, it’s about the communication in the team. It’s about having the right conversations at the right times, hammering things out together, airing and refining thoughts and ideas, beating out ambiguity and forging common goals. This is why it matters.
If it was just about the tools, BDD would have been lost in the noise years ago, and BDD solo would be an expensive overhead. Why add another layer of tool complexity if it’s just us?
However, because BDD is about the concepts, not the tools, BDD works just fine solo: the process of deliberately stepping outside our developer role and thinking through our project from a product perspective gains us insight and understanding. This works no matter what tools, languages, frameworks or practices we may prefer.
When we’re solo, we dispense with a lot of the tools we don’t need. We don’t need to schedule a 3 amigo meeting with ourselves, for example. We’re left with a very pure form of BDD, set free from the needed constraints of multi-person teams.
Then we can begin to understand which of the common practices of BDD are only there to work around problems and can be discarded as needed, and which are truly foundational.
Try it out
Try using BDD on a personal project. Play the product owner, and write some Gherkin-style features. Pretend you can’t code. Really think about your problem without thinking about exactly how you’re going to solve it.
Whilst doing this, reflect on what practices you really need, and which you don’t. Which tools are less useful on your own? Which are more useful?
If you feel we’re just wasting time, I’d challenge us to think about what that’s telling us about our own ‘standard’ agile practice. How much of it is truly making us more agile, and how much of it is simply getting in the way?
Read more4 questions to discover if you're *really* agile...
Here’s a challenge: how many of these questions are are true for your team? (Be honest.)
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Does our team value processes and tools (i.e. our task tracker, source control program, our agile process, our meeting cadence, etc) over conversations between team members?
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Does our team attempt to document everything (perhaps through long comprehensive ticket descriptions, or massively detailed cucumber features) before focusing on working software?
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Does our team think about about SLAs, response times and formal release procedures before shipping something and having a conversation with the customer about it?
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Is following the plan that you agreed in sprint planning more important than changing it in response to a customer?
If our projects sound like this, we’re doing exactly the opposite of the agile manifesto.
The anti-agile manifesto
Processes and tools over individuals and interactions
Comprehensive documentation over working software
Contract negotiation over customer collaboration
Following a plan over responding to change
Read both versions through. Which one sounds most like your project?
Read moreMake Cucumber features more readable with this one weird trick
“Sorry I’ve written such a long letter; I didn’t have time to write a short one.”
If you’ve got an issue with your customers not reading your feature files, then try this: it’ll help ensure their eyes stop glazing over.
As I travel around coaching teams doing BDD, a common problem I see with Gherkin features is that they are nigh on unreadable except by the people that wrote them… and even then, the writers often have trouble explaining what they mean.
This often happens when non-technical stakeholders have little to no involvement in writing features, leaving technical people free to be as obscure as they like. It’s easy to write an obscure feature: it takes a lot less effort to ramble and choose the first words that come to mind, rather than crafting carefully considered prose. The pain comes later: an obscure feature is imprecise, error-prone and unmaintainable, as the effort required to understand it will stop others from maintaining it.
How I help people simplify their features
When asked to review the language of a preamble, I read the feature out loud, and then ask the writer of the feature what it means.
A deep breath often follows. “Ok, this is the one where…” The writer will explain the feature clearly and concisely using completely different words to what is actually written in the feature. They use great contextual information that’s missing from the written preamble, and work to ensure I really understand what’s going on.
Once I’ve got a good response that I can understand, I ask the writer to replace the preamble with exactly what they just said.
It’s never exactly what they said (natural language is different to spoken language, after all) but it’s always better than what they had before.
Sometimes, when asked what the feature means, the writer will give a short hesitant explanation, and then proceed to read out the preamble again. My response is normally: “yes, but what does it mean?” Occasionally I have to ask five or six times until I get a considered, clear response.
This also works for scenarios, scenario descriptions, tag names, etc.
Why this works
Sometimes it’s easy for us to get so wrapped up in the detail of the features that we’re writing that we’re unable to see the wood for the trees. Our features read much more like computer code than they do plain natural language.
Features are communication tools first and foremost, and leveraging different ways of communicating while writing them will help to ensure they’re as carefully considered as possible.
(This works for natural prose, too. if you write a blog, documentation or even just emails to colleagues, taking a moment to read your text out loud will tell you in an instant whether it makes sense.)
A challenge
Pick a feature on your project, and read it out loud. If it makes no sense, explain what the feature does to a colleague and ask them to write it down for you. If it reads awkwardly and could be improved, take ten minutes to do so. Your future readers will thank you for it.
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