Giving a Shit Works

At every stage of my life — whether wearing a uniform, defending networks, under a barbell, or building a product — I kept running into the same lesson: giving a shit works.

We’ve already talked about those nights advocating for air assets while serving as an intelligence analyst overseas. When the real challenge wasn’t the data, but the conversations, the negotiations, and the weight of knowing that if I couldn’t make the case clearly, people downrange might not get the support they needed. Giving a shit wasn’t optional. It was the difference between letting things happen and fighting for what mattered most.

I saw the same pattern later as a SOC analyst and lead defending some of the largest government networks in the world. The best defenders weren’t always the smartest or the fastest. They were the ones who gave a shit enough to search for the serendipitous connections between seemingly disparate events — the deep analyses that led to the discovery of attacks in time to stop damage and loss to critical systems. The analysts with empathy for teammates, respect for users, and pride in their work were the ones who set the tone.

When I moved into product management, giving a shit meant obsessing over the details of problems I’d lived myself. How slow alert triage wasted defenders’ time, or how confusing interfaces kept critical data hidden. At Endgame, in a mature, crowded EDR market, our willingness to listen to defenders, to give a shit about their realities, helped us build a product recognized as a Visionary by Gartner. When Endgame was acquired by Elastic, giving a shit meant betting on the users again. Launching Elastic SIEM, building the Elastic Security division from the ground up, and in just a few years, earning recognition from Gartner and Forrester as one of the leaders in a fiercely competitive SIEM space. But more important than any analyst recognition was the validation from our users. Real stories of success, attacks mitigated, remediation accelerated, and defenders delighted. That was the true measure of whether we gave a shit enough.

Under the barbell, giving a shit took a different shape. It meant tracking tiny progress when nothing felt like it was changing, resting on days when ego screamed to push harder, and spotting a training partner with the same care you’d want from them. It meant seeing that strength isn’t just what you can lift, but how you show up for others. Because real strength lifts others.

And then came the year I finished writing this book, and the year I had to add a chapter.

The chapter you just read names what AI changed and what it didn’t. I won’t relitigate the argument here. I’ll just say it once more, in the place this book has always been heading. Real strength is the part AI cannot do. The mission is what only a human can run. The motto still works. Maybe more than ever.

That’s the lesson I want you to carry with you from this book: giving a shit works. It will cost you something. Time, energy, vulnerability. But what you get in return is better than any shortcut: teams who trust you, skills that endure, a mission that matters, and a life of meaning.

So don’t let cynicism, busyness, or ego keep you from caring deeply. And don’t confuse kindness for weakness, or empathy and compromise for giving in. In a time when the world seems to be forgetting our shared humanity, be the bastion of integrity. Be the one who shows heart. Care enough to show up, to do the hard reps, to listen, to adapt, and to lift the people around you. Give a shit. About the work. About your mission. And most importantly, about others. Because when you do, you’ll build something stronger than you ever thought possible.

Now go build it.