When I first started learning Quality Assurance through a bootcamp, I thought I knew exactly how to become a great QA engineer.
Write more test cases. Find more bugs. Cover more edge cases.
I still remember one assignment where I wrote nearly 150 test cases for a single feature. At the time, I thought:
“This is it. This is what professional QA looks like.”
I was proud. And honestly… That exercise taught me discipline. But it didn’t teach me how to stand out.
Then I hit my first wall.
I graduated.
Started looking for opportunities.
And suddenly I realized something. There were hundreds of other junior QA engineers. Many had completed the same bootcamp. Many had learned the same techniques. Many knew exactly what I knew.
So I thought…
“Maybe automation will make the difference.”
So I built frameworks.
One after another. Each one more ambitious than the last.
Python. Playwright. Selenium. TypeScript. CI/CD. Reports. Coverage. Architecture.
And I genuinely loved building them. I still do. In fact, some of my favorite projects on this portfolio are automation frameworks. But eventually… I hit another wall.
Mid-level engineers also build frameworks. Senior engineers build even better ones. Once again…
I wasn’t really different.
I stopped trying to become the QA engineer who found the most bugs. I started trying to become the QA engineer founders wanted on their team.
Then I tried something completely different.
Instead of applying for jobs… I started helping startups. I sent a simple message.
“I’m a QA engineer. I’d like to review your product for free and share my thoughts.”
That small decision changed everything.
I wasn’t trying to impress them anymore.
I was trying to understand them.
I wanted to know: Why did they build this? Who were they building it for? What problem were they trying to solve?
Once I understood that…
The report almost wrote itself.
Yes. I still documented bugs. I still reproduced issues. I still reported broken functionality.
But something else started appearing in every report.
Ideas. Observations. Questions. Suggestions. Praise.
Empathy.
Something unexpected happened.
Founders didn’t remember how many bugs I found. They remembered something completely different. They remembered feeling understood. Instead of receiving a document saying,
“Here’s everything that’s wrong.”
they received something that felt more like:
“I understand what you’re trying to build. Here’s how I think we can make it even better.”
That changed every conversation.
I finally understood what my job was.
I’m not trying to beat other QA engineers. I’m not trying to write the biggest bug report. I’m not trying to build the most complex automation framework.
Those things matter.
But they aren’t the reason founders come back. They come back because they feel like someone cared enough to understand their product before judging it.
That’s What Makes My Reports Different
Every report still contains technical findings. Bug reports. Reproduction steps. Expected behavior. Severity. Recommendations.
That’s part of the job.
But every report also answers questions like:
Would I keep using this product? Where did I hesitate? What made me smile? What made me trust the platform? What would make me recommend it to someone else?
Because users don’t stay because your API returns 200.
They stay because your product makes sense.
Final Reflection
For a long time, I thought I needed to compete with other QA engineers.
Today…
I don’t think that’s the goal anymore.
My goal is much simpler. To understand your product deeply enough that I can help you improve it. That’s why I still enjoy building automation. That’s why I still enjoy finding bugs. But above everything else… That’s why I enjoy listening.
Because every startup begins with someone believing they can build something people will love. And if my work can help them get a little closer to that goal…
Then I’ve done mine.
Understand first. Test second. Explain always.
