From Feeling an Impostor to Principal Engineer

TL;DR: The Strategic Edge

Instead of trying to be the fastest coder, focus on becoming indispensable. Here's how:

Tackle the "Ugly" Problems: Volunteer for the complex, legacy work others avoid.
Become a System Archaeologist: Master the boring, critical systems that make the money.
Translate Chaos into Clarity: Learn to see the patterns in production failures.
Build Trust with High Performers: Your ability to communicate clearly and solve problems for key people is more important than your coding speed.

The Beginning: A Fish Out of Water

How did I become a Principal Engineer?

For years, I searched for a single, simple answer to that question. Spoiler alert: there isn't one. There are, however, traits, habits, and strategies that I developed—less by grand design and more by necessity—that paved the way.

My story doesn't start with a triumphant promotion. It starts with a feeling of dread.

I had just joined a Fortune 500 company, landing on what the HR person described as “the dream team” and my new manager called “a cutthroat band of salty developers.”

I was neither cutthroat nor salty. I was the oldest, the most expensive hire, the least experienced with our tech stack, the only one with a wife and kids waiting at home, and the only non-native English speaker. As if that wasn't enough, for the first time in my life, I was painfully aware I wasn't the smartest person in the room.

The thought tortured me daily: I feel completely mediocre here. Now what?

I gave myself six months before I’d be shown the door. But at the same time, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I wasn't going down without a fight.

Phase 1: Survival Mode - Tackling Ugly Problems

In those early days, the goal wasn't promotion; it was survival. I realized I could never earn my place by closing more Jira tickets than the brilliant young coders around me. They were faster, more fluent in the codebase, and had fewer life distractions. Competing on their terms was a losing battle.

So, I chose a different game.

I started volunteering for the tasks everyone else avoided. The messy migrations, the debugging of legacy code, the integrations with creaky old systems. These tasks had two strategic advantages:

Fuzzy Deadlines: No one really knew how long they should take, which gave me breathing room.
Forced Deep Learning: They required me to understand the system from first principles, not just apply a superficial fix.

I optimized for learning, not for speed.

One of my first assignments was to migrate a notoriously nasty application from WebSphere to Liberty. I knew nothing about either technology, but I knew nobody else wanted to touch it and I had nothing to lose. After all, I was on my way out, wasn't I?

It took weeks of painstaking work and a ridiculous number of extra hours. But when I finished, something important had happened. I hadn't just closed a ticket; I had built a foundational understanding of our systems.

Phase 2: The Deep Dive - Becoming a System Archaeologist

That first taste of deep knowledge was addicting. I realized that true value wasn't in knowing the cutting-edge tools everyone was talking about. It was in understanding the messy, but profitable systems that actually ran the business.

I spent that year's holiday season not learning the latest Spring Boot version, but studying our internal tooling. I learned how to become a Splunk ninja, and how to use AppDynamics to drill down into application dependencies. I read dry technical manuals on mainframe integrations. I went through every single Confluence page in our team’s space, piecing together the institutional knowledge that others had forgotten. I reviewed hundreds of old Jira tickets, looking for patterns.

Slowly, a map began to form in my mind. Not the clean, idealized architecture diagram we showed to new hires, but the real one—full of scar tissue, bad technical decisions, and hidden dependencies.

My next move was to become an "incident sponge." Our massive systems had frequent issues, and being on-call was a source of extreme stress for most developers. While I still wasn't required to be on-call, I made a point to join every critical incident bridge I could.

At first, it was chaos. I’d listen in, trying to decipher what was going on while thinking, "It's a miracle these systems don't collapse every day." But over time, the chaos subsided. I learned the jargon, the tools, the failure points, and most critically, I learned who to call when a specific part of the universe was on fire.

The Epiphany: Workhorses vs. Experts

As I mapped the systems, I also began to map the organization. I realized that in a large company, there are two fundamental types of engineers:

The Workhorses: These are the builders. They are often incredibly talented coders who are fantastic at taking a well-defined spec and executing it flawlessly. This path seemed to attract a lot of young, brilliant engineers, and the competition was fierce.
The Experts: These are the system thinkers. Their value isn't just in the code they write, but in their deep, holistic understanding. They know the business context, the system architecture, the political landscape, and the people behind the keyboards. They are consulted on critical decisions and bring clarity to chaos.

The workhorse path felt like a sprint with a crowded field of racers. The expert path was a marathon that required a different kind of endurance, but the long-term rewards—influence, autonomy, and impact—seemed far greater. I knew which race I wanted to run.

Phase 3: The Revolution - When Chaos Creates Opportunity

Less than a year into my role, the revolution came. In a mere three-month period, my manager, my director, and most of my team left the company.

This period of immense stress and uncertainty was also the single greatest opportunity of my career. All that time I had spent spelunking in Confluence, deciphering legacy code, and listening in on incident calls suddenly paid off. When questions arose about why a critical system was built a certain way, I was often the only one left who knew the answer.

One of the organization's most respected architects, Donald, noticed. He saw me as a great "problem solver" and started pulling me into high-level design discussions.

Around the same time, I made a point to connect with a very respected Principal Engineer, Raphael. Raphael was known for two things: his encyclopedic system knowledge and his superior communication skills. His emails and dissertations were works of art—clear, precise, and impossible to misinterpret. I knew that communicating effectively with him was crucial. I spent extra time making sure every email and chat message I sent him was concise and well-thought-out. He noticed. That attention to detail earned his respect and made me stand out from the noise.

My superpower wasn't brilliance; it was preparation. And now, the stage was set.

Phase 4: Acceleration - From Problem Solver to Trusted Partner

Promotions and raises followed. After saving the day on a few high-profile production issues, I earned my first significant salary bump (10%). Another architect I had connected with, Nathan, was promoted to Senior Director. He knew my reputation for deep system knowledge and for being a reliable partner. He made me his right-hand person, and one year later, he got me promoted to a Staff-level role and a 30% raise.

Then came a second revolution, Nathan moved to pursue a better opportunity and, thanks to my reputation, I ended up reporting to our VP. I quickly earned his trust, positioning myself as a partner in his success. This relationship led to my second major promotion—to Principal Engineer—and another 30% bump.

My Playbook for Impact

Looking back, that feeling of being an impostor was a gift. It forced me to find a different path to value, one that wasn't about being the fastest but about being the deepest thinker in the room. This is the playbook.

1. Mine for 'Boring' Gold. Everyone wants to learn the hot new framework. Very few people have the patience to learn why a 15-year-old system is the way it is. This "boring" knowledge is rare, and therefore, incredibly valuable. Become the archaeologist of your company’s tech stack. The secrets you unearth will make you an indispensable resource that no new hire can replace.

2. Become the Calm in The Middle of the Chaos. Complex systems under pressure look like chaos to most people. But if you've done the deep work, you can see the patterns. Your job is to translate that chaos into a calm, actionable plan during a crisis.

3. Build Trust with High Performers. Your technical skills will get you in the door. Your ability to build trust with other A-players will define your success. Identify the Donalds, Raphaels, and Nathans in your organization. Understand what they value—whether it's clear communication, deep problem-solving, or proactive ownership—and deliver it consistently. When you make their lives easier, they will pull you up.