I once worked for a brilliant boss who was strategically focused, technically brilliant, and a rising star in the Air Force. I think he was also a nice guy one on one. But he was a terrible boss because of the way he micromanaged his organization.

When I met him, he was a relatively new brigadier general (single star, higher than a colonel). He rose to gain four stars, the pinnacle of rank in the military, commanding organizations of many flying groups across multiple bases, responsible for billions of dollars of hardware and many people and a nationally prestigious mission. If you asked him, he would never have thought he was a micromanager. He delegated tasks to others, put team members in charge of key projects, and gave credit to team members when they performed well. Doesn’t sound like a micromanager, but he was the worst kind. He micromanaged through endless questions. He asked questions to inform himself of the operations of each group under him to ensure he knew as much as his subordinates about their jobs. But the worst part was that he often entered meetings and interactions with a perception of what right looked like, what the right answer was to any challenge, and his questions were designed to get his team to think like he was thinking, act like he would act, perform like he would perform. Anytime a subordinate briefed him, the feeling was often to ‘guess’ what the boss wanted, or how the boss wanted something done, and execute then brief as you thought he wanted. If you were wrong, you felt his wrath, or even worse—more questions until you provided the right answer that fit his paradigm. Even though his subordinates were doing all the work—the hard and often un-fun part—he did not trust them with their approach, their techniques, their ownership of his overall intent. He did not trust them with his vision. Without trust, subordinates will never embrace a vision or feel empowered with that vision. They will never feel the true excitement of owning and executing a mission. That was the life under this boss. Survive, hope to get a good appraisal, then move quickly on.

As an example, there was a group scheduling meeting that he chaired before I arrived in the organization (when he was a colonel). It covered the flying missions of the base, the scheduling of airspace, the status of aircraft, on-going maintenance actions, personnel issues that affected the mission, and conflicts with outside agencies that impacted the overall flying program. Approximately 25 people attended the meeting each week from the differing organizations on base. The briefing slides were somewhat scripted with over 100 slides covering all the with multiple organizations briefing their status. Each organization would describe their work in progress, conflicts, etc. In general, the meeting was the same every week. Different challenges, but similar, with the main responsibility for the lower organizations to solve. As the chair of the meeting, he was there to resolve conflicts, provide resources where needed, and ensure the flying mission was being met. Once given the resources or needed decisions, it was everyone else’s job to fix airplanes, adjust schedules, or interact with outside agencies to take care of the mission.  It would take him two hours to cover the slides, asking questions of every aircraft, every problem.  He dove into his subordinates' problems, talked them through how to solve them, asked questions that he had no bearing on beyond curiosity.  Attendees hated the meeting.

When I arrived on base and began to chair the meeting, I heard horror stories of how this exact meeting had averaged two hours under his leadership. I would arrive to the meeting having reviewed the slides, identified the areas where my input was needed, and at first was flummoxed at how the meeting could take more than 30 minutes. As I got better at understanding my role, I began to start the meeting with “I’ve reviewed the slides. Only brief me on where you need help or guidance. You guys then go get the work done.” I think my shortest meeting was just under three minutes. And the team was then free to use the time I ceded them to get the actual work done.

I did not see myself as any hero. I hated long meetings. And even more, I was not an expert in so much of what the team did. But as I’ve thought about it over the years, I realized that I was demonstrating trust in the teams responsible for the work. They had their “commander’s intent”, the flying and training plan they were supposed to execute. They didn’t need me meddling in their day-to-day operations—only providing them with top-level guidance and resources where necessary. They needed to feel trusted with the vision of the organization and their part in that vision. They needed to be allowed to use their years of expertise to do the job in the way their experience led them, with the backing of me and the rest of the leadership team. 

I never had a run-in with this leader, as I must have ‘guessed right’, but I watched how it reduced the innovation and initiative of the team. They worked hard—because he would not tolerate anything but. But they did not love working for him or doing his ‘bidding.’

Ask yourself if, as a supervisor, you are so far in the weeds and the ‘how-to’ of your subordinates’ responsibilities that they feel micromanaged and unempowered. Do they perform well because I am hovering over them, never fully developing as they otherwise could? Do they enjoy talking to you and getting your vision and guidance, or dread being corrected by questions and second-guessed?

A leader who has command of every detail often delves too far into the job of their subordinates and micromanages their efforts at the expense of trust. Back off, provide vision and objectives, then show real trust.