When Fredbird Leaves the Nest
A Self-Indulgent, Yet Humble Take on “Influencing without Authority”
It’s October 31, 2011. Three days after the Saint Louis Cardinals’ won their 11th World Series title. I’m in my bathroom, struggling to stretch yellow tights over my legs. Old athletic shorts and a long sleeve shirt, lined with red-and-blue patterned felt material for feathers. A brand new David Freese jersey fresh, polyester white. Two yellow visors formed like a beak, press securely against my face. A makeshift bird hat sitting on my head. As I finish dressing, I look in the mirror and blush. “Either people appreciate this, or I quit my job,” I say to myself, and I step out to show my fiancé.
“Hey, Fredbird,” she says with a smile.
“Do I look ridiculous?”
“Yes, but that’s the point.” She adjusts my beak, and then straightens the hat. “It’s perfect.”
“I’m just not sure how many people actually dress up for Halloween.” It’s only been a few months since beginning my new corporate career, and I’m going to work as my hometown’s baseball mascot.
But when I arrive at the office building, I find the breakroom is quiet for a Monday. Most people had taken the day off, extending the weekend through the holiday. I walk up to the refrigerator and hear a familiar voice behind me.
“I always wondered what Fredbird would eat,” he said. It’s a project manager that I had seen around the hallways but couldn’t remember his name. He wears black slacks and an orange tie, simple and subtle.
“I hope I don’t disappoint,” I reply, pulling out a small box of Bagel Bites from the freezer. And as I stand in front of the microwave, watching the table turn behind the grid-lined screen, I contemplate the series of events that had led to this moment. Graduating with a Bachelor’s degree in Professional Writing; joining a team of Technical Writers at a well-known financial institution; fearing that I’m not fitting in well with the corporate culture; receiving the Halloween email about costumes; watching our beloved Cardinals reach victory; asking my future wife to make me a Fredbird outfit. I may have overshot.
The real mascot had to have felt this way at some point. Perhaps after a ballgame, a child stayed behind thinking, “I wonder what Fredbird does once it’s over,” only to find the real man behind a concession stand with his mascot head on the ground, smoking a cigarette and arguing with his landlord on the phone. I could hear the child in the back of my mind, “Daddy, what does Fredbird mean by ‘the rent is too damn high’?”
“Welcome to the accidental profession.” Steven Haines, The Product Manager’s Desk Reference.
Technical Writing was my first love. As a member of IT, I was embedded with system experts, all of whom I would interview about the inner workings of our digital platforms. I enjoyed supporting the product development process, but I wanted more — to get closer to the customer, to study trends and offer insights, to lead the creation of something new. I didn’t know much about product management or the business team responsible for these online services. I had assumed those managers, analysts, “product owners,” were these super, special people who had the ultimate say about the customer experience. I thought they were basically in charge. They owned every request, knew every detail, and every idea was in their making.
And so I took off my bird hat and stumbled whole-heartedly into product management. The first step was intentional. I sought out a product manager. I put my best foot forward at each interaction, presenting system documentation and training materials directly to him, providing unsolicited alternatives and new ideas on how to engage users, and changing my schedule for additional face-time with his team. Then my intentions began to slip.
“As an analyst, I would be able to…” I’d say to him, an offering hand.
He’d reply as a matter-of-fact, “I certainly believe you could.”
“If only I was a team member…” I’d remark another time, a deeper nudge.
He’d answer with a laugh, “Seems like you already are.”
“Perhaps there’d be an opening…” a vocal push and shove.
He’d play along, “Perhaps there would be.”
I had fallen into a trap of maybes, possiblies, and somedays. Doing my best to maintain balance between my current workload and wooing a new team, I delved into the ideals of product management. Articles, books, presentations. I filled my cubicle wall with post-it notes of quotes and thoughts. Eventually a position did become available, and I luckily landed on my feet with a Product Specialist role. No costumes worn. Though reality quickly set in.
“We’re going to completely re-design our online application,” the manager said on my first day of the new role. “It’s been five years since we’ve updated the code base. It’s been a long time coming.” And so we reviewed the backlog of existing defects, gathered customer feedback, and researched competitor capabilities. We discussed old and new features and shared different approaches to improve customer experience. Over the course of months, we met with the UX team to draft mockups and wireframes and discussed development with IT.
But months kept going by without formal approval to begin the project. There was an excuse for everything. Customer journey mapping with more stakeholders joining conversations. “Too many cooks in the kitchen.” Priorities given to Government-regulatory items. “The nature of the financial world.” Requests from miscellaneous strategy teams. “Leadership initiatives take precedence.” The project was withheld from the Fiscal Year budget twice. “Executives have bigger fish to fry.” It felt like anybody outside of my team could make decisions on my application, except those people responsible for its success. All the while, the financial industry continued to evolve and our competitors promptly responded. Two years passed before we finally began development on any major enhancement.
“Product managers have all responsibility and no real authority,” said someone, somewhere, one day, and everyone loved it, repeated it, owned it at every conference, in every book, and on every blog post about product management.
The problems I faced were somewhat related:
1. “Product” vs. “platform”
- Products at this organization were actually financial packages or traded commodities; stocks, bonds, mutual funds, on margin or with options-trading. Several different business teams are responsible for those products.
- My team was responsible for digital platforms that customers could interact with these products and services. I was separated from the decision-makers through layers within departmental reporting structures and politics.
2. Lack of influence and authority
- My influence on the Product roadmap was limited by higher priorities from strategy teams, Legal/Compliance needs, and IT security initiatives.
- Nobody reported to me. I wasn’t in charge of those people who built the experience (IT) or those various business stakeholders who owned the financial products.
There are many resources available for ways to influence without authority. What I have learned can be summarized in two points: communicating intelligently and building relationships mindfully.
Communicating intelligently means speaking as the expert and advocate for your platform and the end users. Do your market research to understand your user’s actions, needs, and expectations, as well as overall performance of the application. Use customer surveys, site analytics, data mining, usability testing, and competitor analysis as your evidence.
And then have an “elevator pitch” ready in your back pocket, a clear and concise message of the opportunity for the organization and your recommend approach to capitalize on it; know your value proposition by heart and be willing to share with decision-makers when you cross paths.
“All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.” Arthur Schopenhauer, supposedly smart 19th century German philosopher with a questionable personal life.
Building relationships mindfully means socializing with teammates and key stakeholders to gain trust and shared respect. Elicit their feedback on your efforts and turn them into supporters and product champions. Demonstrate both strength and warmth when working with others.
Remember, strength is the capacity and determination to bring about change (ability + will); warmth allows others to feel that you share and understand their worries and their interests as your own. Wielding both will make you an effective leader, regardless of your title.
Here are just a few articles that I’ve enjoyed which offer tips on how to influence without authority:
- 5 Ways for Product Managers to Influence without Formal Authority
https://280group.com/product-management-blog/5-ways-for-product-managers-to-influence-without-formal-authority/ - Exerting Influence without Authority
https://hbr.org/2008/02/exerting-influence-without-aut - The Most Underrated Product Management Skill
http://www.sachinrekhi.com/the-most-underrated-product-management-skill-influence-without-authority - Why Most Product Managers Suck
https://thenextweb.com/entrepreneur/2014/05/11/product-managers-suck-better-one/#.tnw_4XXwYfKK
Fredbird doesn’t own St. Louis Cardinals’ baseball. He’s not part of the coaching staff. He doesn’t pitch, bat, or even wear a glove. But when Fredbird leaves the nest, he puts on his uniform like everyone else. No matter how well or poor the team plays, exciting or boring the game may be that night, he climbs on top of the players’ bench and rallies 40,000 people together with the waving of his hands. He bends down, jumps up, does a tummy roll and the crowd goes wild. Now that’s influence without authority.
And although I don’t wear that silly costume anymore, I look back at it like greeting an old friend. It taught me a few good lessons: don’t be afraid to put yourself out there, set reasonable expectations, and a title isn’t necessary to influence change. It doesn’t matter how you look in yellow tights.


