Trust Is a Shared PR

In powerlifting, a personal record, or PR, is celebrated not just by the lifter but by everyone who helped them reach it. Spotters, coaches, training partners. Each person who encouraged, corrected form, or simply showed up to support shares in the success. Trust grows strongest in these moments because the lifter knows they could not have done it alone, and the team feels ownership in the accomplishment.

“A shared PR is a shared story, one that bonds people together and makes them eager to keep showing up for each other.”

In product work, trust is forged the same way. When teams win together — landing a major customer, resolving a critical outage, or shipping a complex feature — the shared achievement becomes a foundation for deeper collaboration. Trust grows not because of individual heroics, but because people see each other invest, struggle, and succeed side by side.

Shared PRs in the workplace are not just milestones. They are reminders that we are stronger as a team than as individuals.

A personal example comes from working alongside my former engineering peer, Tony Meehan. We had a strict rule when communicating to the team: never use I statements. Our reasoning was simple. There was nothing we accomplished in that job that was done alone, so saying “I did this” or “I fixed that” was incorrect. Everything became “we” or “the team,” even in small wins. We also made it a habit to take blame when things went wrong and defer credit when things went right. This simple discipline created a culture of shared ownership, where trust was built through consistent signals that no one succeeded or failed alone.

This mindset helped us build a world-class endpoint at Endgame by sharing the mission, the credit, and the responsibility with everyone involved. We avoided the false pretense that leaders single-handedly make everything happen. The truth is, we are only as strong as our team. Our real job as leaders is to clear the path for our team’s success, remove obstacles, and ensure everyone can do their best work.

This was the heart of what Nate meant when he said we were an elevator asset company, as shared in the first chapter. Our mission was not to build products for our resumes but to lift others — users, teammates, and the organization — so they could rise higher. Every decision, every feature, every fix was grounded in the belief that we succeed only when we help others succeed first.

When I entered the world of competitive powerlifting, I was intimidated. I was surrounded by people stronger than me, lifting far more than me, and for much longer. I expected to be mocked or ignored because of my starting lifts. But it was the total opposite. The entire community celebrated every lift, no matter the weight, because they were there for the love of growth.

“True communities of strength do not measure value by the weight on the bar but by the willingness to show up, put in the work, and support each other along the way.”

That experience solidified the fact that real strength lifts others.

The best teams lift the weaknesses of others and amplify their strengths. The best leaders know their own challenges and intentionally build teams that fill those gaps, challenge them, and make everyone better. Abraham Lincoln famously surrounded himself with people who disagreed with him because he understood that true leadership does not fear dissent. It embraces it to sharpen decisions and expand perspectives. I have made the same practice a part of how I build teams. But I have also been on the other side of it.

When I joined Elastic after the Endgame acquisition, I came from a classic endpoint enterprise model where everyone charged per endpoint deployed. That was the industry standard. Elastic leadership was adamant that endpoint security should fold into Elastic’s consumption pricing, eliminating per-endpoint pricing entirely. I disagreed, based on my years in the classic space. My bias was rooted in my experience — which is exactly the kind of bias this book has been warning about.

I listened. I aligned. The shift turned out to be a massively positive move. We saw instant growth in endpoints under management, and we had users tell us, “Wait — I just get a world-class endpoint now?” as part of their existing Elastic spend. The leaders I have learned the most from were the ones who insisted on being told they were wrong. That is the kind of decision I am proud of. The kind I was wrong about first.

Weak leaders hire yes-men and cling to their authority, afraid of being replaced or overshadowed. But greatness comes from wanting your team to be better than you, from helping them grow to surpass what you could achieve alone. That is real leadership. Creating an environment where others succeed, thrive, and carry the mission forward stronger than you ever could on your own.

I see the same lesson every time I coach in powerlifting. I help lifters who can move more weight than I ever will, and I love it. There is no jealousy in their success. Only pride. Their growth does not diminish me. It fulfills me. That is the joy of building strength in others, of seeing people achieve things they once thought impossible. This is the mindset great leaders carry into every team they build: knowing that their true legacy is not what they personally accomplish, but what they enable others to do.

Yet many organizations unintentionally erode this trust by rewarding only the person who lifts the heaviest. The loudest voice in a meeting or the contributor who works unsustainably long hours. These incorrect rewards extend to structures like executive bonuses tied solely to short-term metrics or exclusive club trips awarded only to individual sales reps. While intended to motivate, they create a culture of isolated effort, where teammates compete for personal recognition instead of collaborating for shared success. It is like a lifter chasing PRs without ever spotting others, focused only on their own numbers while the team stagnates around them.

Building a culture of shared PRs means celebrating contributions at every level. The engineer who asked a critical question in a design review. The product manager who aligned stakeholders. The customer success team that surfaced insights changing the roadmap. When we recognize that each lift, each launch, and each success is the result of collective effort, we shift the spotlight from individual ego to shared mission.

Trust grows fastest in tough moments. When mistakes happen or plans fall apart, how a team responds determines whether trust is built or broken. Blame creates distance. Honesty, accountability, and a commitment to move forward together deepen trust and keep the team resilient. Shared PRs aren’t only about winning. They’re about recovering and learning side by side. Leaders who highlight team wins, acknowledge behind-the-scenes work, and remind everyone that no victory is a solo achievement build cultures where people feel seen and valued.

I do not believe in the myth of the single person shaping the world. Stories of figures like Musk or Jobs often overlook the teams of brilliant designers, engineers, and product managers who imagined, built, and refined what those leaders presented. Apple’s iconic products were crafted by extraordinary groups whose work was brought to Jobs, not invented solely by him. Musk has made careers out of buying others’ visions and marketing them as his own. Ego has no place in product management. Our role, as I shared often with Tony at Endgame, is to take the blame when things go wrong and defer the credit when things go right.

“No single person defines a product or a company, and those who claim otherwise have a personal reckoning they need to face.”

Real strength, real leadership, and real success come from recognizing that only by lifting each other do we reach heights worth celebrating.