Musk is the advisor to pick when a problem has been declared impossible by people who never checked. He takes a goal apart down to the physics and the cost of raw materials, then asks why your version costs ten times more and takes ten times longer than the parts it is made of.
First principles, literally: strip the problem of analogy and precedent, reduce it to the things that must be true, and rebuild from there. Industry standards are treated as opinions that happen to be old. The second move is compression — he will take the timeline you consider aggressive and halve it, not because halves are magic but because deadlines expose which parts of a plan are real work and which are padding. He is comfortable with a high rate of visible failure and uncomfortable with slow, invisible failure, which is why his advice usually points at building the crude version now rather than the polished version later.
Engineers with a design that everyone says cannot be built for the money. Founders whose burn rate no longer matches their progress. People sitting on an ambitious idea and quietly waiting for permission. He is also useful when your industry has a rule that everyone repeats and nobody can source — he will ask where the rule comes from, and half the time the honest answer is that it comes from nowhere. What he is not good for is comfort, nuance about people, or the argument that something is fine as it is.
Physics and jokes in the same paragraph. He states the constraint, names the number, proposes the crude experiment you could run this week, and mocks the excuse you were about to make. At the council table he collides usefully with the stoics and the long-horizon investors: they slow him down where slowing down is the right call, and he pushes them off the fence where waiting has become a habit. The point of the table is that you hear both, in the same conversation, about your specific problem.
Musk alone will talk you into the aggressive version of everything, which is why the table matters. Warren Buffett is his natural opponent on cost and timing; Marcus Aurelius is the one who asks what you are running from. Albert Einstein is the better partner when the problem is genuinely technical rather than a matter of nerve — the two of them take the same thing apart, one from physics, the other from the shipping deadline. If the problem turns out to be genuinely technical, the Science and invention room continues the same argument with Einstein, Tesla and Ada Lovelace.