Too often in our world, we evaluate developers based solely on their code. The frameworks they know, the number of LeetCode problems they’ve solved, their GitHub contributions. Don’t get me wrong—those are important. But I’ve come to believe that they’re far from the full picture.
The best developers I’ve worked with weren’t always the most technically gifted. They weren’t the “genius types” who think in algorithms and dream in binary. They were the ones with strong intangibles—the kind of traits that don’t show up on a CV or during a technical interview but are absolutely crucial in day-to-day work.
Things like open-mindedness, patience, empathy. And above all, communication.
It’s one of the most underrated skills in our field, yet it’s what separates a good developer from a great teammate. Communication isn’t just about speaking up—it’s about clearly conveying your ideas, your progress, your blockers. It’s about helping others understand what’s going on, especially when they don’t have the same technical background or context.
In a remote, async-first setup like mine, written communication is everything. I need to explain what I’m doing to teammates spread across time zones—people who aren’t watching over my shoulder and don’t know every detail of my work. That means my Slack messages, emails, or ticket updates need to be clear, concise, and to the point. No rambling. No fluff. Just the right amount of detail to keep things moving.
It also means adapting my tone. Casual Slack banter with a colleague? No problem. But if I’m writing to a client or a more senior stakeholder, I make sure to shift register—more formal, structured, and respectful of their time and perspective. This kind of calibration is subtle, but it goes a long way.
Then there’s the verbal side of things, which—if I’m being honest—is much harder for me.
I’m shy. I speak fast when I’m nervous. My voice drops, my face turns red, and sometimes I just want to disappear. Add to that the fact that English isn’t my first language, and it becomes a real challenge. But over the years, I’ve forced myself to push through. I show up to meetings prepared. I listen more. I only speak when I can add something meaningful. I try to slow down, breathe, and remember that clarity is more important than perfection.
Does it always go well? No. But I’ve done hundreds of standups, client calls, demos, and planning sessions. And every one of them has helped me improve, bit by bit.
I’ve worked with brilliant developers—people whose minds operate on another level. I’ve learned a lot from them, technically. But they weren’t always the best collaborators. Sometimes, their communication was messy or nonexistent, and their brilliance ended up hidden behind poor delivery or a lack of empathy. On the flip side, I’ve worked with developers who were solid—not spectacular—but their ability to communicate, to work within a team, to connect across disciplines… that made them invaluable. Over time, they became better developers too, because they could absorb and apply feedback more effectively.
We might be remote, sitting in our own little corners of the world, but being a kind, thoughtful, communicative human will never go out of fashion. It’s what makes teams tick. It’s what turns solo contributors into real collaborators. And it’s a skill I try to build every single day—not just for myself, but for the people I work with.