Accountability is an interesting word. It packs a punch, doesn't it? It can carry so much weight and meaning in almost every aspect of our lives. It can defuse a situation, make someone feel heard, rebuild trust, and move people toward solutions with one simple sentence. "I got this wrong. I own it. Now, let's figure out how to make it right." Simple words that can have an enormous impact.
I learned this early in my career from an incredibly talented Director who took me under her wing. She mentored me, challenged me, and helped shape the leader I would eventually become. I remember the first time I heard her take accountability as though it were yesterday.
We were sitting in a large boardroom, surrounded by stakeholders from across the organization. We were working on a significant initiative that would influence the direction of the company. The stakes were high, tensions were rising, and we had reached a pivotal point where certain actions weren't moving forward as they should. You could feel the frustration in the room. And then she spoke. With confidence in her voice, mixed with the most genuine, down-to-earth tone, she said, "My team or I dropped the ball here. I take accountability for that, and I want us to work toward a solution together."
That was it. No excuses, no finger-pointing, and no elaborate explanation about why another department hadn't delivered or how someone else had contributed to the problem. Just ownership. I sat there watching, listening, and quite frankly, in awe. One simple, honest sentence changed the entire tone of that boardroom. People stopped defending their positions and the conversation shifted. Instead of spending our energy figuring out who was responsible for the problem, we started talking about how we could solve it.
What struck me most wasn't just what she said, but how she said it. She wasn't embarrassed, she wasn't apologizing for being a leader, and she didn't appear concerned about how taking ownership might make her look. She was confident enough in herself to acknowledge that something had gone wrong without allowing it to define her capabilities. And that was incredibly new to me.
Up until that point in my career, I had encountered leaders who led with their egos. Leaders who pointed fingers, protected their own interests, and taught their teams the quintessential "CYA" mentality. Cover your ass. We've all heard it, and many of us have probably worked in environments where it was practically an unwritten leadership principle. Document everything, make sure your name isn't attached to the mistake, get ahead of the narrative, and find a way to demonstrate that the problem belongs to someone else.
But I've always wondered, to what end? If we spend more time protecting ourselves from the problem than actually solving it, what exactly are we accomplishing? I've watched incredibly intelligent, capable leaders spend an extraordinary amount of energy making sure they weren't the ones left holding the bag. And I find myself wondering why. Is it fear, insecurity, or a need for control? Have they spent so much time in environments where mistakes were punished that self-preservation has become second nature? Perhaps it's a combination of all of those things.
I also recognize that some organizations have created cultures where accountability comes at a cost. Where admitting a mistake can mean losing credibility, opportunity, or even your job. When that's the environment you're operating in, protecting yourself can feel necessary. But there's a difference between protecting yourself from an unhealthy culture and becoming a leader who perpetuates one. And that's where I think we need to challenge ourselves.
When leaders consistently point fingers, distance themselves from problems, or quietly position others to take the fall, they're teaching their teams something. They're teaching them that being right is more important than doing right, that collaboration has limits, and perhaps most damaging of all, that when things get difficult, they're on their own. What kind of team are we building when everyone is looking over their shoulder? What happens to innovation when people are afraid to make mistakes? What happens to trust when the people who are supposed to have your back are more concerned about covering their own?
I don't believe great things happen in those environments. People might deliver results, meet deadlines, and hit targets, but imagine what those same people could accomplish if they weren't spending so much energy protecting themselves. Imagine what becomes possible when people feel safe enough to say, "I need help," "I made a mistake," or "We need to rethink this." That's where I believe the real magic happens, and where teamwork becomes so much more than a word we put on a slide during a leadership meeting.
I think ego plays a much bigger role in all of this than we care to admit. We all have one, myself included, and I don't necessarily think ego is a bad thing. A healthy sense of self, confidence in your abilities, and pride in your accomplishments can be powerful drivers. But somewhere along the way, some leaders confuse confidence with the need to always be right. They confuse authority with superiority and accountability with weakness. I've never understood why admitting you've made a mistake is seen by some as giving up power. If anything, I believe it's quite the opposite.
It takes far more confidence to own a mistake in a room full of your peers than it does to find someone else to blame. Think about that for a moment. When you're sitting at a table with other leaders and something has gone wrong, you have a choice. You can defend your position, explain why it wasn't your responsibility, and make sure everyone understands the part someone else played. Or you can acknowledge what happened, take ownership of your part, and invite others to help find a way forward. Neither choice changes the fact that something went wrong, but one builds walls while the other opens doors.
Through the years of mentorship from what I would describe as transformational leaders, I've learned (and still learning!) that my ego can sit beside me. It can remind me of my experience, my capabilities, and the value I bring to the table. But it doesn't get to sit on my shoulder, whispering in my ear and driving my decisions. Because the moment my need to protect my reputation becomes more important than the people I'm working with, I've lost sight of what leadership is supposed to be about. And frankly, I don't ever want to be that leader.
Now, I want to be clear about something. Being accountable doesn't mean becoming the person who takes responsibility for every problem in the organization. It doesn't mean accepting blame for things outside your control or allowing others to avoid their own responsibilities, and it certainly doesn't mean being a doormat. Accountability requires honesty, including the courage to have difficult conversations when others haven't delivered on their commitments. But there's a world of difference between holding someone accountable and throwing them under the bus. One comes from a place of wanting to make things better, while the other often comes from wanting to make yourself look better.
As leaders, we need to understand that distinction. We can have high expectations, demand excellence, challenge decisions, and address poor performance while still treating people with dignity and respect. In fact, I would argue that's exactly what great leadership requires. Accountability and compassion are not mutually exclusive, and neither are accountability and teamwork. We don't need to choose between being a strong leader and being a good human being. We can be both.
I often think back to that Director and the lesson she taught me in that boardroom, especially in the moments when I’ve got that hook in my stomach that amps up the instinct to defend and CYA. She probably had no idea how profoundly that moment would influence me, but she gave me something that has stayed with me throughout my career. She gave me the gift of taking accountability with grace.
That gift has shaped how I lead, how I collaborate, and how I navigate some of the most challenging moments in my professional life. It's taught me that I can be objective during times of immense stress, acknowledge when something hasn't gone as planned without questioning my own abilities, and stand confidently alongside my peers even when the conversation is uncomfortable. Most importantly, it's taught me that I don't need to win every argument, have every answer, or be the smartest person in the room to be an effective leader. I need to be someone people can trust, someone who will stand beside them when things get hard and who is willing to say, "We got this wrong. Let's figure it out together."
I've carried that philosophy into the teams I've built and the organizations I've helped grow. I've seen what happens when people stop protecting their individual territories and start working toward something bigger than themselves. Barriers come down, ideas flow more freely, and people challenge each other without feeling threatened. They celebrate collective wins instead of competing for individual recognition, and when something goes wrong, they don't scatter. They come together. That, to me, is the kind of leadership worth striving for.
If you're a leader taking the time to read this, I want you to think about the last time something went wrong. Not the last time someone on your team made a mistake, but the last time something happened that you were accountable for. What was your first instinct? Did you seek to understand what happened and how to move forward, or was it to make sure everyone knew it wasn't your fault? I ask that without judgment because we're all human. We all have moments when our ego gets a little louder than we'd like. What matters is whether we recognize it and choose to do something different.
I also want you to think about the people you lead. When something goes wrong, do they come to you because they know you'll help them find a solution, or do they hesitate because they're worried about what happens next? That's a question worth sitting with because leadership isn't measured only by what happens when everything is going well. Sometimes, the most defining moments happen when things go sideways, tensions are high, and everyone in the room is looking for someone to blame. Those are the moments when we get to decide what kind of leader we want to be.
I made that decision a long time ago, sitting in a boardroom, watching a woman demonstrate more confidence and strength through one sentence than I'd seen from leaders who spent entire meetings defending themselves. I remain grateful for that lesson and for the example she set, not just in how to lead a team, but in how to show up as a human being when things get difficult.
So, the next time you're sitting at the table and something has gone wrong, invite your ego to take a seat beside you and let accountability have the floor. There's nothing weak about vulnerability when it's grounded in confidence and integrity. The real question is whether you're secure enough in your own leadership to admit when you've got something wrong, or whether your ego will continue making that decision for you.
