My Leadership Journey: Unmitigated Disaster

My first few weeks as a group leader were an unmitigated disaster. I was in my late twenties and had played a central role in growing an aerospace mathematical modelling team from a handful of engineers to over thirty within five years. When the previous manager transitioned into an Expert role, the vacancy attracted many ambitious internal and external applicants: myself included. 
In preparation, I had been meticulous. Unaware at the time that I was autistic, I had channelled my hyperfocus into developing a detailed strategy for the team’s progression. I read extensively on interview technique: smiling at the right moment, offering a firm handshake, maintaining eye contact, and distributing attention evenly. I even spoke to the secretaries of the senior leaders conducting the interviews to better understand their personalities and communication styles.

Though I clearly succeeded in securing the role, some ambiguity remained. A few internal candidates later acknowledged that I was the best choice and mentioned it in their interviews, which left me wondering how much of the outcome had been due to my performance, and how much to good fortune or timing. Through my subsequent years I gained a lot of success as a leader but never succeeded in passing a conventional interview again; I’ll come back to this.

Day one in the role, I was handed two clear objectives: to bring greater focus to delivery for the aircraft development programmes and to establish a clearer group hierarchy. The team was viewed as too theoretical, heavily research-driven and lacking organisational structure. I had just completed my first leadership training course, although I hadn’t exactly won any popularity contests due to my alternative thinking during the course. My instinct is always to ask, “what are they trying to prove?” The trainer led into a giant game of noughts and crosses (tic-tac-toe in the US), as I watched everyone dive in to out-compete each other my analytical neurodivergent mindset kicked in. I persuaded my course-colleagues to collaborate rather than obstruct each other thus solving the puzzle before the trainer could deliver the surprise reveal. Apparently, we’d already proven the point and stole his thunder. Although later in the course I failed to spot the infamous gorilla video walking through a crowd of basketball players; perhaps I am fallible.

Armed with fresh leadership theory and a clear directive, I threw myself into the challenge, aligning my approach with what was considered effective leadership in the early 2000s: command-and-control, top-down hierarchy, target-driven performance, and cost reduction. The model was clear: replicate the shiny success story and climb the corporate ladder. Be assertive, confident, decisive. Push for delivery. I tried to adapt, reshaping myself to fit the mould. I mimicked the polished, extroverted charm-driven managers who seemed to embody success.

But after six gruelling months, I was close to breaking.

The truth was, I couldn’t change who I was. My natural style, thoughtful, analytical, quietly strategic clashed with the extroverted, charismatic manager archetype. My team wasn't just lost, they were frustrated. I had made sweeping decisions in isolation, convinced that rapid, tough changes were necessary. In the end I was hired for the role so surely I knew instinctively what I was doing. . But instead of progress, I was met with confusion, disengagement, and growing tension. I had ignored their input, misread their needs, and the result was a team on the edge and a leader not far behind.

Something had to give. I pressed the reset button. 

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At the time, I had just finished reading The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People[1.] by Stephen Covey. Although first published in 1989, it felt profoundly relevant; well ahead of its time. The book was part of a new wave of leadership thinking that challenged the dominance of transactional, command-and-control models. It laid the groundwork for what would later become known as emotional intelligence and transformational leadership. More than anything, it gave me something I hadn’t realised I needed: permission to be myself.

In the years that followed, I didn’t just consult my team, I actively involved them in shaping the direction of the group. I provided strategic guidance, but the how was co-created. We evolved a culture where contribution was always encouraged. Even recruitment became a shared responsibility. We ran assessment-centre-style interviews, and in many cases, I never met the candidate we hired. I trusted the process and more importantly, I trusted my team to make decisions in the best interests of the group.

We valued the role over the hierarchy, and delegated responsibility based on individual strengths and intrinsic motivations. Over time, processes became second nature, knowledge sharing was instinctive, and the group matured into a high-performing, inclusive team. We consistently scored highly on engagement surveys; not as an individual achievement, but as a collective one. It was a team we built on an inclusive leadership style that through this book we will explore together.
As a final thought, returning to my hint of many failed interviews, you may be wondering why you should follow anything I say in this book if I can’t even pass one. Discovering I was autistic later in life made me realise that I process the world differently. This difference allows me to excel in seeing patterns, understanding behaviours, and hyper-focusing to master detail to a level beyond what most people achieve. I have applied myself relentlessly to become the best leader I can be, and my incessant impostor syndrome has fueled my continuous improvement.

However, I now understand I struggle with certain aspects of leadership. I will never be the naturally well-spoken, articulate motivator who can inspire others through spontaneous speech alone. I thrive on preparation. Ask me a question that I don’t know the answer to, and you will get a mediocre response. Give me time to research, synthesise, and structure my thoughts, and you will get the best possible response, often something most people would not have even considered.

This last point is where I struggle most in interviews. I can try to over-prepare for every possibility, but under the pressure of simultaneously remembering to perform with appropriate intonation, prosody, eye contact, and body language, something inevitably drops. Humans are exceptionally tuned to spot these small behavioural oddities, often referred to as the uncanny valley, and frequently feel uneasy around autistic people without knowing why.

Consequently, I have not passed a conventional interview since. Fortunately, senior leaders have recognised my talent and found ways to support me, giving me wonderful opportunities, often with a little gentle encouragement toward HR to facilitate the appointment.

I hope you connect with my story and the themes in this book. I have gone to an additional level of detail and covered aspects I would want to see in a leadership guide. With over two hundred academic references, I believe I have collated all the finest and latest research to create a comprehensive and instructional guide. You will need to embrace the history of leadership and its evolution, discover yourself before attempting to understand others, and finally, consider the practical elements of day-to-day leadership. I welcome you to read in an order that suits your personal style and to follow through with your own research on any area that piques your interest. Finally, I hope you enjoy it above all else.