Learning across hierarchies was not a phrase I knew early in my career, but it is exactly what happened. I was the engineer. He held a different role. By every formal measure the organisation had available, I outranked him. I had the degree, the grade and the professional designation. He had none of those things.
He also had something I did not have: he knew how things actually worked in that environment.
Not in theory. Not in documentation. In practice, on the ground,. In the specific and harsh reality of systems that had to function in conditions that could be unpredictable. He knew which configurations worked under pressure and which ones looked right on paper but failed in the field. He knew the shortcuts that saved a job and the ones that would create problems in future. He knew the site histories, the recurring issues of particular equipment, and the patterns that only reveal themselves to someone who has been watching for years.
One incident has remained with me ever since. We spent hours tracing what looked like a cable or junction box fault, working methodically through the documented fault-finding procedure. Eventually, he quietly suggested we walk to the exchange cabinet. Within minutes he pointed to a switch whose configuration had changed. It was the first place he had wanted to check. It was not in any manual and it certainly was not in the troubleshooting process route. It was something he knew from experience. He had seen the same symptoms before. That afternoon taught me that experienced people often recognise patterns long before official or standard procedures do.
I was the engineer. I needed know part of what he knew. And the only question was whether I was going to let my formal status get in the way of that education. Was learning across hierarchies part of my approach?
It was.
Learning across hierarchies: What reverse mentoring actually is
The term did not exist in my vocabulary in those early Ericsson field team days. Looking back, I recognise that experience as a form of what organisations now call reverse mentoring. At the time, however, it simply felt like the fastest and most sensible way to learn. I was new, he was experienced, and the work required both of us.
So I watched. I asked questions without trying to unnecessarily assert the authority I had been given on paper. I made mistakes in front of him and did not pretend otherwise. I listened more than I spoke. The newcomer who believes they already know everything usually doesn’t learn what matters. It is unfortunately a lesson that some learn when it is too late.
What I received in return was not formal instruction. It was something better: inclusion. He and the other members of the field team began to share what they actually knew, not just the formal stuff for “senior” people, but the real life stuff. The field version. It certainly made the difference between a job that went smoothly and one that did not.
That inclusion depended on my willingness to remain genuinely humble and ready to learn in the areas where I lacked experience, regardless of what my position in the organization said. I had to be teachable.
What the informal network actually carried
I discovered something at Ericsson that I have watched prove true in every organisation I have worked with since. The informal networks that exist outside formal structures carry information that formal structures rarely capture and often cannot.
The technicians knew which clients were genuinely unhappy before any formal complaint was raised. They knew which engineers were trusted on which sites. They knew what had been tried before and why it had not worked. This is information that was not documented anywhere. They understood the organisational mood, the internal dynamics, the power plays, the subtle body languages and the unspoken histories that shaped how every new situation would actually be received. Did I find the importance learning across hierarchies obvious? It certainly wasn’t loud at the onset. But it gradually began to reveal itself.
That knowledge was not in any handbook. It was not in any briefing. It lived in the conversations that happened in vehicles on long drives to sites, in the places where our team stopped for lunch, and in the small talk that was never entirely small.
My hunch is that I was admitted to those conversations because I didn’t show up with a “know-it-all” attitude. There was no arrogance. I also didn’t come across as some with a strategy. In truth, in my path to learning across hierarchies, I was a bit naive. I came simply as the person I was. But I noticed the return on that approach. It confirmed something I have never stopped believing: informal systems can be powerful. They often carry operational knowledge that formal systems rarely capture, and humility is critical to opening the door.
The learning across hierarchies reversal that changed how I think about expertise
Here is what I eventually understood about those early field team experiences. The formal hierarchy said I was senior. The actual knowledge hierarchy said something more complicated. There were dimensions of expertise in which I was genuinely ahead. There were dimensions in which the technician had already forgotten more than I had ever learned.
Real competence means being able to hold both of those truths without choosing one over the other. They both have value. Pretending the technician had nothing to teach me would have been a professional failure dressed as professional confidence. Pretending my engineering training was irrelevant would have been a different kind of dishonesty.
What the situation required was a difficult, delicate balance. I needed to be humble enough to admit when I didn’t know something, confident enough to stand my ground when I did, and wise enough to know the difference between those two situations.
That is harder than it sounds. Some people resolve the tension by picking a side. They either perform humility they do not feel, a sort of pretence. Or act on authority they have not earned. Both are theatre, they are performances. Experienced people are not dumb. They see through both.
What this means for how I think about leadership and learning now
I have spent quite some time working across technology, policy and leadership development. A troubling habit I often see in certain leaders is that they let their high titles and status breed arrogance. It is an ego trap. It often closes them off to the valuable insights and lessons that come from everyday, real-world experience.
The senior executive who cannot learn from a junior team member. The experienced consultant who cannot be taught by the client. The mentor who cannot be guided by the insights of the mentee. The policy adviser who cannot be educated by the community the policy is intended to serve. In every case the structure is the same. Formal authority has become a barrier to real knowledge, and the work is poorer because of it. Indeed, learning across hierarchies isn’t just nice to do. It is a necessity for the forward-thinking.
Reverse mentoring is not simply a formal programme, a framework or a corporate initiative. It is a mindset. It is the deliberate decision to value good ideas and information for what they are, irrespective of where they come from: a junior employee or a senior executive. It is an embrace of the “ideas over hierarchy” concept.
I learned that attitude at Ericsson while working in field teams. Much later, team members told me that newly appointed engineers often arrived with misplaced confidence. They mentioned, on more than one occasion, how pleasantly surprised they were that I didn’t carry that same attitude.
In career and life matters, I strongly believe in asking questions. Years ago, after founding Jidaw, I organized free IT career seminars for people looking to enter or grow within the profession. One piece of advice I frequently shared came from an old Chinese proverb:
“He who asks a question is a fool for five minutes; he who does not ask a question remains a fool forever.”
I would often share this quote during the seminars, jokingly adding that rather than being a fool for life, I would gladly choose to be a fool for five minutes. I believed it then, and I believe it even more now.
Some of the people who attended those seminars, those who entered the profession because of the seminars or online career advice I shared, my former students, and others I have mentored have since become recognized experts in important technical areas. Meanwhile, my own work has shifted to become less technical and more policy-oriented. As a result, I consult them and learn from them on complex technical matters today. We freely share ideas and learn from one another.
This is not a reversal of my earlier philosophy; rather, it is its natural continuation. Ego is a terrible master, and it must be dropped. I fully embrace the willingness to be taught by the very people I once taught. There is no shame in that.
The willingness to be guided by those with less experience, or those lower than you on the organizational chart, is not a lesson learned once. It is a lesson learned over time and a discipline that must be practiced throughout a career. Status can either close our minds or remind us that every new role brings new opportunities to learn, remain relevant, and realize our potential.
I choose growth.
Author: Jide Awe
Science, Technology and Innovation policy advisor.
Nigeria’s Inaugural Tech Mentor of the Year
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