The eye-roll isn’t a personality trait. It’s a warning sign.
It starts as a harmless reflex.
Someone drops a half-baked feature in sprint review, proudly demoing what amounts to a glorified loading spinner - and your brain whispers, “Seriously?” Another project dies on the vine, killed by the same meetings that birthed it, and you think, “Of course it did.” You’ve seen this show before. You know how it ends.
Congratulations. You’ve unlocked senior cynicism.
It feels like insight. Like armor. But it’s actually rust. And if you don’t watch it, it will eat straight through your usefulness.
The Seductive Lie of “I Knew It”
Cynicism is ego’s favorite disguise. It lets you feel smart without risking anything. If something fails, you “saw it coming.” If it works, you’re still right - just surprised. It’s the ultimate no-lose bet.
But here’s the catch: you stop building.
You stop betting on ideas.
You become the person who notices every crack but never grabs mortar.
And eventually, people stop listening.
Not because you were wrong - but because you weren’t helpful.
Snark Is Not Strategy
We’ve all been in those group chats where sarcasm flows like Red Bull in a hackathon. It feels like bonding. Like shared intelligence through mutual disillusionment.
But it’s not harmless. It spreads. Fast.
When you default to mockery, you train your team to disengage instead of improve. You make curiosity feel naïve. Optimism feel junior. And collaboration feel pointless.
(See also: Morale Is a System, But One Person Can Poison It)
You might think you’re sharpening the edge. But really, you’re dulling the blade.
Default to Curiosity
Here’s your interrupt pattern:
When the eye-roll rises, ask: “What don’t I know yet?”
That’s it. That’s the move.
Not because everything deserves the benefit of the doubt. Some things really are dumb. But you can’t know that until you actually know.
Try these instead of your usual skeptical classics:
- Instead of: “Who the hell signed off on this?” Try: “What problem is this trying to solve?”
- Instead of: “This’ll never scale.” Try: “What constraints were they working with?”
- Instead of: “I could build this better in a weekend.” Try: “What would I change, and why?”
It doesn’t mean letting garbage slide. It means understanding before condemning. Curiosity is not compliance - it’s a path to constructive dissent.
The “Build or Bail” Rule
Sometimes, the thing is bad. You’ve confirmed it. It’s real.
Now you’ve got two choices:
1. Build:
Jump in. Improve it. Propose a path forward. This is what seniority is for - not just critique, but contribution.
2. Bail:
Step back. Not everything is yours to fix. But then shut up and move on. No sniping from the sidelines. No ironic Jira comments.
You don’t get to throw shade and avoid the sunlight of responsibility.
Be the Engineer Who Still Gives a Damn
Here’s the truth no one tells you:
The best engineers aren’t the ones with the most “I told you so” moments.
They’re the ones who still ask, “What would it take to make this better?”
That question is where leadership begins. (Even if you still don't have the title)
And it’s how you stay valuable long after you’ve mastered the syntax.
Because anyone can criticize.
Only the curious still contribute.
Final Debug
Cynicism might protect your pride -
but curiosity protects your growth.
One makes you feel clever.
The other makes you useful.
Choose accordingly.
(And if you need help holding both at once, try: Thick Skin, Open Mind)
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