I’ve spent the better part of the last decade as an Engineering Manager and software specialist for platforms operating at massive scale. But if you want to know why I am an operations leader who thrives under peak load, don't look at my GitHub stats—look at the sub shop I managed in my twenties.
In the technology sector, we are deeply in love with our operational metaphors. We talk endlessly about "sprints," "identifying bottlenecks," "triage," and "site failures."
But when you are running a high-volume pizza and sub shop during a Friday night dinner rush, those aren't abstract concepts. They are the hot, physical reality of a production line running at maximum capacity.
There is No Ctrl+Z on a Burnt Pizza
In a professional kitchen, "Technical Debt" looks like a mountain of unwashed prep dishes stacking up by the sink at 7:00 PM. "Total Site Failure" is an industrial deck oven going down when you have forty active tickets hanging from the rail and a line of hungry customers out the door.
Managing that environment week after week taught me the "Hello World" of systemic logistics long before I ever deployed code to a live multi-tenant framework:
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Real-Time Triage: When five dependencies break simultaneously, which order goes into the oven first to protect the core integrity of the user experience and save the most customer sentiment?
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Load Balancing: Which resource do I instantly pivot from the prep line to the assembly counter to break a structural bottleneck before the throughput grinds to a halt?
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Operational Grit: How do you maintain absolute precision, calm communication, and quality metrics when the entire system is operating at 110% capacity?
The Human API
I learned early on that a system is only as good as its sustainable throughput, and throughput is entirely dependent on the orchestration of the humans running it. From managing chaotic weekend dinner rushes in Massachusetts to later navigating the high-stakes, sleepless terrain of early parenthood when my first daughter was born in 1999, I was constantly learning the underlying syntax of high-pressure environments.
By the time I made my "Great Pivot" back to the enterprise technology ecosystem at the age of 42, I didn't just bring the ability to parse object-oriented syntax or build databases. I brought a lifetime of stress-tested logic.
I quickly realized that a software ticket backlog is simply a digital version of a pizza queue. The developers are my highly specialized line cooks. The continuous integration and deployment (CI/CD) pipeline is the oven. My job as a leader is to build clarity, optimize the handoffs, and protect the team so the system can ship real value without burning out.
From Throughput to Stewardship
Today, as I stand on the threshold of our family farm in the North Country, surveying the yard alongside our Sheltie, Rue, I look back at that non-linear path with immense respect.
The high-velocity operations of my youth taught me how to move fast under pressure. My subsequent decade auditing the physical bones of commercial real estate taught me to demand rigorous, data-backed integrity. My years scaling remote engineering teams taught me how to optimize the Human API. And my current reality—acting alongside my wife as the legal guardian and advocate for my neurodivergent family members while managing a resilient agricultural homestead—has taught me the truest meaning of stewardship.
I have completed my threshold protocol, and my sabbatical is coming to a close. I am moving away from the keyboard and toward the broader mission.
I am seeking my next chapter as an Engineering Manager or Operations Leader—bringing the structural discipline of an engineer and the "in-the-weeds" grit of a seasoned manager who knows that, at the end of the day, a high-performing team doesn't just manage tickets.
We manage the mission. And we deliver.
