You were a great manager of ICs.

You knew the work. You could jump in when things broke. You could teach because you'd done the job yourself. When someone struggled, you showed them how. Your expertise was your authority.

Now you manage managers. Five of them, maybe. Each running teams in domains you've never worked in. Finance. Engineering. Legal. Marketing. Operations.

You've never done their jobs. You can't teach them how to do it. You can't jump in when things break.

And so you feel it: the imposter moment.

"What value do I add? They know more than me in every domain. What right do I have to supervise them?"

(Caveat: I'm sharing what worked for me across a few situations. I can differentiate correlation from causation only 50% of the times - so take this with appropriate salt.)

Here's what no one tells you: you're not supposed to know more than them.

That was the old syllabus. When you managed ICs, your expertise was the job. Now it's irrelevant — and if you keep leaning on it, you'll fail.

The syllabus changed. Not a difficulty increase. A different exam entirely.

When managers don't make this shift, they fall into one of three traps.

The Overcompensator.

Feels: "I deserve this role. I need to prove I belong."

Does: Micromanages details they don't understand. Pretends to have expertise they lack. Has opinions on everything. Makes every conversation about proving their value.

Result: Their managers stop bringing problems early. Information gets hidden. Trust erodes.

The Abdicator.

Feels: "I don't know jack. Who am I to supervise them?"

Does: Hands off everything. Avoids tough conversations. Gets nervous when their own supervisor asks questions. Defers every decision to their reports.

Result: No one is steering. Cross-functional issues fester. Their managers feel unsupported.

The Pendulum.

Feels: Exhausted. Torn. Never sure which mode to be in.

Does: Micromanages Monday, goes hands-off Tuesday. Swings between extremes. Never finds stable ground.

Result: Their managers never know what to expect. Whiplash becomes the culture.

If expertise isn't the job anymore, what is? Here are the five things I actually do.

When they bring a recommendation, don't evaluate the content. You can't — you don't have the domain expertise. Instead, test the rigor of their thinking.

Start with translation.

"Help me understand this."

Make them explain it in non-technical language. If they can't translate it simply, they haven't thought it through. The act of translation exposes gaps.

Then the questions:

Read the tells.

Signs they've done the work: Sharp, specific answers. "This is a hard constraint. Nobody has solved this. It's physical." Sounds like the most obvious thing in the world to them.

Signs they haven't: Circular answers. Obfuscation. Hesitation on micro-decisions. "I haven't thought of this" when you ask something obvious.

The sendback:

"It looks like you need more thinking here. Specifically on [X trade-off]. Come back when you can tell me why it can't be done differently."

The bar:

"No expert in your field should be able to find a better solution than this. If they can, you're not done."

Domain expertise alone doesn't create impact. Your managers need to get things done through people who don't report to them, don't share their priorities, and don't understand their depth.

This is where you add value.

Reframe the boundary conditions.

When they're stuck treating everything as equally important, shrink the problem.

"If you were only the owner of [the critical piece], how would you handle this?"

Forces them to see what's actually non-negotiable versus what they've assumed is fixed.

Make them see other people's reality.

Three questions:

Domain experts assume everyone sees the problem the way they do. They don't.

Map the influence path.

Their solution is 50% of the work. Getting it executed through the organization is the other 50%.

When they fail or doubt themselves, your job is to give them space to learn — not to judge.

External validation.

When they're unsure if they could have done better, don't just reassure them. Go verify.

"I checked with [another expert]. They said they'd have done the same thing. You're operating at the level you should be."

This isn't hand-holding. It's data. And it lands harder than "I think you did fine."

Normalize the stumbles.

Share your own path. The mistakes you made. How you got to your level of competency.

"This is the path. Everyone who walks it stumbles. The job is to get up and keep moving — not to avoid falling."

Shift what they're accountable for.

Not: "Did you pass my test?" Not: "Did you meet my expectations?"

But: "Is this the best version you could produce? Are you proud of the resourcefulness and thinking you put in?"

The accountability is to their own standard of craft — not to your approval.

The reframe:

You're not the examiner qualifying them to be a master. You're a fellow practitioner — further down the same road — showing them what the journey looks like.

When they succeed, make it explicitly clear: this was their competency, not yours.

Don't let people attribute it to you. Actively redirect.

"I managed the process. They solved the problem. This was [name]'s expertise."

Why this matters:

If you take the credit — even passively — two things happen:

One, the org thinks you know the domain. You don't.

Two — worse — you start thinking you know the domain. You don't.

Taking credit keeps you trapped in the old syllabus: "I'm the expert who figured it out."

Redirecting credit is proof you've made the transition: "I manage people who know more than me. That's the job now."

Let them see what you do. The trade-off structuring. The org navigation. The influence mapping. Make it visible, not invisible.

"One day you'll be here. These are the skills you'll need. Watch how I do it."

Why this matters:

It's their development path — not just doing their current job better, but preparing for the next transition.

It demystifies your role — they stop wondering "what does my boss even do?" and start learning.

And it builds the next generation of managers-of-managers.

You're not just managing them. You're showing them the syllabus they'll have to learn when they make the same transition you did.

I've found that saying this out loud — explicitly — changes the relationship:

"I don't know as much as you do about your domain. I probably never will. You're extremely competent. Whatever you bring will be the best version — it will survive any scrutiny. I trust that.

My job is to help you think through trade-offs, navigate the organization, and protect you when things go wrong. Your job is to own your domain completely."

When you say this:

One, they stop performing for you — and start doing their best work.

Two, they come to you early — because you're not a threat, you're a partner.

You became a manager of managers because you were excellent at something.

That excellence got you here. It won't keep you here.

The syllabus changed. Expertise was the old test. The five moves — interrogation, navigation, safety, sunlight, showing the path — that's the new one.

Give autonomy where they know more. Hold accountability where you add value.

That's the job now.

Not the only way. Probably not even the best way. Just one practitioner's version that worked.

Have you made this transition? What worked for you? Let me know in comments.

~Discovering Turiya@work@life