I once presented a forecast to leadership without fully testing the assumptions. The model ran fine. The assumptions didn’t. When the numbers fell short, my team got the blame, and I spent weeks repairing trust.
I’ve also escalated an issue too quickly because I felt pressure to do something. Instead of solving the problem, it created extra work for multiple teams and made my boss doubt whether I understood the situation.
And I once dismissed a stakeholder’s concern because the data supported my case. The data was correct. My conclusion wasn’t. Their pushback later forced a last-minute pivot, and I had to spend weeks rebuilding trust with the business.
If there were medals for confident mistakes, I’d at least make the podium.
But there’s a part I’m less proud of. I didn’t always handle those well. Early on, I avoided owning them. I hid behind complexity. I blamed timing, process, anything that gave me cover. I thought protecting my image was part of the job.
If I could go back and give advice to “new manager me,” I’d say: Mistakes are normal. Evasion is optional. And maybe buy bitcoin while I’m at it.
I’ve handled similar mistakes very differently since then. Less spin, fewer explanations, and faster ownership. Every time I chose to own it instead of soften it, the outcome was better.
That shift changed how safe my team felt telling me the truth.
Trap of the "Bulletproof" Manager
Most of us believe that authority is tied to being right. So when a deadline is missed, wrong directions are given, or a bad call is made, we feel the need to protect our respect, confidence, and control.
Instead of owning the mistake, we start explaining it. The system was stretched. Priorities shifted. The week was “unprecedented,” and so on.
It might be true, but it’s just not the point. The wider we make the story, the smaller our decision looks inside it.
It feels responsible and might sound thoughtful. But the team already knows what happened. They’re not judging the mistake as much as they’re judging the response. When you manage optics instead of ownership, you’re telling them that protecting yourself comes first.
And people will adjust to that. They’ll share less, commit less, and they’ll remember it the next time you ask them to take a risk.
The Pratfall Effect
There’s a concept in psychology called the Pratfall Effect. In simple terms, when a competent person makes a mistake and owns it, people don’t lose respect. Often, they gain it.
When someone capable says, “That was on me,” it does two things. It confirms they see reality, and it shows they’re not hiding from it. That combination carries more weight than a spotless track record.
Authority grows from being the person who takes the most responsibility for the result, especially when the result is bad.
Recovery Protocol
If you’re currently sitting on a mistake, here’s the protocol I use.
Step 1: Look at the damage. Who was actually affected? What exactly went wrong? Skip the “I’m a disaster” monologue and get to the facts. Specifics help you fix things.
Step 2: If this impacts a cross-functional partner, go to them. If it affects your boss, tell them before they hear it somewhere else. Bringing the bad news yourself shows control. Letting them discover it makes you look like you were hoping it would slide.
Step 3: Own it, but keep it short. Acknowledge the error: "I missed this deadline because I didn't prioritize the review." Do not rant about the "broken system" or blame the lack of resources. The more you explain, the more it sounds like defense.
Step 4: Don’t just apologize and disappear. If it was significant, circle back with progress. Show what changed. Reference the adjustment later. Visible correction matters more than visible regret.
The Bottom Line
Everyone screws up. The difference is how quickly you deal with it.
If you messed something up today, don’t stall. Don’t wait for the perfect explanation. Fix what you can, adjust the process, and then keep going.
Most mistakes fade. Evasion doesn’t. What sticks is whether you owned it or tried to blur it.
That part people remember.
See you next Tuesday.
-- Good Enough