Sometimes you find yourself standing at the intersection of competing priorities, unclear expectations, and frustrated people. One leader says you’re not surfacing work clearly enough. Another insists the team should be shielded from leadership noise. Meanwhile, the engineers are just trying to get their heads around what’s actually being asked. And you’re the person in the middle—expected to translate, advocate, anticipate, absorb, and somehow not combust.
After a particularly tense conversation recently, a colleague messaged me privately and said:
“You’re really stuck between a few breakdowns in communication and philosophy. It’s tough. Don’t get discouraged. This kind of thing is more common than we admit.”
I felt seen. Not fixed, not rescued—but seen. And that mattered more than I expected.
Because when you’re in a connective role—whether you’re a QA lead, a product manager, an engineering manager, or anyone else whose job is to translate complexity into clarity—you will be caught in the crossfire from time to time. It’s not a sign of failure. It’s a sign that you’re in the place where alignment still needs to happen. That can be exhausting, yes—but it’s also sacred work.
Here’s what I’m learning to do in these moments:
- Name what’s happening. Not to blame, but to clarify. “We seem to have different assumptions about what success looks like here.” Or, “It sounds like the priorities changed, but not everyone got the memo.”
- Slow the tempo. When things heat up, it’s tempting to go faster, fix everything, or appease the loudest voice. But wisdom often lives in the quiet, unhurried questions.
- Seek alignment, not agreement. Agreement can be superficial. Alignment goes deeper—it’s about shared purpose, even when tactics differ.
- Value the bridge-builders. The people who notice what’s going on beneath the surface, who check in with kindness instead of critique—these are your people. They’re holding up the invisible scaffolding that helps teams stay standing.
I don’t have a clean ending to this story yet. But I do have more clarity about my role: I’m not here to keep everyone happy. I’m here to keep the conversation going, to hold space for misalignment long enough for something better to emerge. That takes patience. It takes people who care. And it takes the occasional reminder—from someone who gets it—that this is hard, and you’re not crazy for finding it so.
So if you find yourself caught in the middle, take heart. It means you’re needed.
And if you’re someone who notices others in that space and reaches out with a word of grace—you’re doing more good than you know.

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