Micromanagement is hated, but accountability often wears that label when underperformance finally meets real leadership attention.
I had an enlightening conversation recently with an industry colleague (who also happens to be a long-time friend and C-level leader at a successful architecture firm). He was casually describing a leadership dilemma that will feel familiar to anyone who has ever managed people for a living. One of his employees was chronically underperforming and, in a presumptive way, I might add, acted like leadership shouldn’t (or wouldn’t) care enough to step in. My friend knew he needed to confront the employee and get a bit closer to his work, but he expressed that he had been hesitating because he didn’t want to be branded a micromanager. I told him his hesitation wasn’t irrational.
Everyone hates micromanagement. I do too. No one wants to work for a leader who hovers, nitpicks every decision, and refuses to trust people to do the jobs they were hired to do. That kind of leadership is exhausting, demoralizing, and a complete waste of executive energy. True micromanagement is bad. Period. It erodes confidence, suffocates initiative, and drains culture faster than just about anything else.
But here’s the uncomfortable truth that rarely gets said out loud: The loudest accusations of micromanagement often come from people who aren’t experiencing control, but accountability. And accountability feels oppressive when your performance has been poor. I’m not arguing that micromanagement doesn’t exist; it absolutely does. What I’m saying is that the term gets used as a shield. It’s frequently used as a convenient label to deflect from the reality that someone has demonstrated, through missed commitments or disregard for standards, that they require closer oversight. When scrutiny shows up, it’s a hell of a lot easier to cry “foul!” than to own the fact that your work and your behavior created the conditions for it.
And that’s the response I gave my friend (and that response turned into this article). My message to the reader is this: Increased scrutiny is utterly miserable and borderline abusive when it’s applied to the wrong people. But when it’s applied to the right ones, it’s often lazily branded as micromanagement instead of what it really is: Performance management. My friend and I even joked about rebranding it as “enhanced performance accountability.” That was obviously satire, but the phrase carries an uncomfortable amount of truth. In a culture that increasingly resists responsibility, calling something micromanagement is a far more palatable move than saying, “I’m being held to a higher standard because my work product consistently (and perhaps presumptively) sucks.”
Where this conversation gets more interesting, and more important for leaders, is in knowing the difference between toxic control and legitimate oversight. And that line absolutely matters. The difference is not how closely you’re watching. It’s why you’re watching, how long you plan to stay there, and what it takes to earn your way out.
Listen folks, legitimate accountability is outcome-driven. It’s tied to clear expectations and specific results. It’s temporary and conditional. It comes with a clearly defined off-ramp: Improve performance, demonstrate consistency, and your autonomy is magically restored. Toxic micromanagement, on the other hand, is different. It’s permanent. It lingers long after trust has been re-earned. It exists because the leader cannot (will not) let go, not because the business demands it. That distinction is where many leaders fail. It’s where I’ve failed at times. Some leaders avoid accountability altogether because they fear being disliked, and so they trade leadership and respect for popularity. Others clamp down indiscriminately and never loosen their grip. Both approaches damage culture, just in different ways.
There’s another layer here that leaders need to own. If you increase oversight, you also inherit responsibility. That is to say, you must clearly define what “good” looks like. You must communicate expectations without ambiguity. You must coach, not just inspect. And when performance improves, you must be willing to step back. If you don’t, then congratulations. You have officially crossed the line you claim to hate.
Oversight without clarity feels arbitrary – doesn’t it? Accountability without an exit feels punitive – doesn’t it? That’s where good leaders separate themselves from toxic ones.
The irony is this: When applied correctly, accountability doesn’t drain culture. It protects it. Your top talent and high performers will never resent leaders who steadfastly hold low performers to the standard. They resent leaders who don’t and won’t. Nothing poisons morale faster than watching someone miss the mark repeatedly while leadership looks the other way in the name of being “hands-off.”
So, here’s the bottom line: If you hate the scrutiny that comes with enhanced accountability, start with your work. Meet commitments. Respect standards. Show consistency. Autonomy is rarely taken from people who earn a leader’s trust daily. And if you’re a leader, don’t confuse stewardship with control. Oversight used appropriately isn’t toxic; it’s part of the job. Your responsibility is not to avoid labels; it’s to deliver outcomes, protect your culture, and help people either rise to the standard – or make room for someone who will.
That work is often unpopular. It’s rarely comfortable. And it’s exactly what leadership demands.
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Jeremy Clarke is COO and managing director of Talent consulting at Zweig Group. Contact him at jclarke@zweiggroup.com. |
