It’s an issue I see at a lot of startups and project teams at larger companies—the founder or team lead often plays the role of the product manager in the beginning. They define the vision and work with all parts of the business to make it a reality. The trouble comes when the team grows—to 40, 50, 100 people. [See also: Chapter 5.2: Breakpoints.] That’s when the leader has to step away from the day-to-day business of building the product and hand over the reins to someone else.

But they can’t imagine handing over their baby. How could anyone understand it or love it or help it grow as well as they could? And how would that function even work? Where would it live? How could the founder retain influence over the product if they’re no longer the manager of that product? And then what would the founder’s job even be? [See also: Chapter 6.1: Becoming CEO.]

A good product manager will do a little of everything and a great deal of all this:

• Spec out what the product should do and the road map for where it will go over time.

• Determine and maintain the messaging matrix.

• Work with engineering to get the product built according to spec.

• Work with design to make it intuitive and attractive to the target customer.

• Work with marketing to help them understand the technical nuances in order to develop effective creative to communicate the messaging.

• Present the product to management and get feedback from the execs.

• Work with sales and finance to make sure this product has a market and can eventually make money.

• Work with customer support to write necessary instructions, help manage problems, and take in customer requests and complaints.

• Work with PR to address public perceptions, write the mock press release, and often act as a spokesperson.

Most tech companies break out product management and product marketing into two separate roles: Product management defines the product and gets it built. Product marketing writes the messaging—the facts you want to communicate to customers—and gets the product sold.

But from my experience that’s a grievous mistake. Those are, and should always be, one job. There should be no separation between what the product will be and how it will be explained—the story has to be utterly cohesive from the beginning. Your messaging is your product. The story you’re telling shapes the thing you’re making. [See also: Chapter 3.2: Why Storytelling.]

I learned storytelling from Steve Jobs.

I learned product management from Greg Joswiak.

Joz, a fellow Wolverine, Michigander, and overall great person, has been at Apple since he left Ann Arbor in 1986 and has run product marketing for decades. And his superpower—the superpower of every truly great product manager—is empathy.

He doesn’t just understand the customer. He becomes the customer. He can shake off his deep, geeky knowledge of the product and use it like a beginner, like a regular person. You’d be surprised how many product managers skip that hugely necessary step—listening to their customers, gaining insights, empathizing with their needs, then actually using the product in the real world. But for Joz, it’s the only way.

So when Joz stepped into the world with his next-gen iPod to test it out, he fiddled with it like a beginner. He set aside all the tech specs—except one: battery life.

Nobody wanted their iPod to die in the middle of a flight or as they were DJing a party or going for a run. But as the product evolved from the classic iPod to the iPod Nano, we were in a constant tug-of-war—the smaller and more elegant it became, the less room there was for a battery. But what’s the point of a thousand songs in your pocket if you have to keep taking them out of your pocket to recharge?

One charge had to last days, not hours.

Battery life mattered to customers. And it mattered to Steve Jobs. You couldn’t just come to Steve and say, “The next version of the iPod is going to have a twelve-hour battery instead of fifteen like the last version.” You’d get thrown out of the meeting.

So Joz and I didn’t bring Steve numbers—we brought him customers. Commuters like Sarah only use the iPod going to and from work, students like Tom use it throughout the day, but in short bursts between classes or basketball games.

We created typical customer personas, then walked through the moments in their life when they used their iPods—while jogging, at parties, in the car. And we showed Steve that even if the number engineering gave us was twelve hours, those twelve hours actually lasted most people all week long.

The numbers were empty without customers, the facts meaningless without context.

Joz always, always understood the context and was able to turn it into an effective narrative. It’s how we were able to convince Steve. And reporters. And customers. It’s how we could sell iPods.

Building a product is like making a song.

The band is composed of marketing, sales, engineering, support, manufacturing, PR, legal. And the product manager is the producer—making sure everyone knows the melody, that nobody is out of tune and everyone is doing their part. They’re the only person who can see and hear how all the pieces are coming together, so they can tell when there’s too much bassoon or when a drum solo’s going on too long, when features get out of whack or people get so caught up in their own project that they forget the big picture.

But they’re also not directing everything. Their job isn’t to be CEO of the product—or, God forbid, what some companies call the “product owner.” They can’t single-handedly dictate what will and will not make it in. Sometimes they’ll have the final opinion, sometimes they’ll have to say “no,” sometimes they’ll have to direct from the front. But that should be rare. Mostly they empower the team. They help everyone understand the context of what the customer needs, then work together to make the right choices. If a product manager is making all the decisions, then they are not a good product manager.

So the product manager has to be a master negotiator and communicator. They have to influence people without managing them. They have to ask questions and listen and use their superpower—empathy for the customer, empathy for the team—to build bridges and mend road maps.