Rules do not stop at the manager's door: power, privilege and the art of being an exception to your own principles

A signature was missing.

The employee had checked the request twice. The procedure was clear: the change could not be made without the proper approval. It did not matter how small the sum was, how well known the customer was or how urgent the situation looked.

He explained this politely.

The request was put on hold.

A little later, the manager came into the office. He had a similar matter, but this time the change had to be made at once.

The employee asked for the approval and the necessary documentation.

“No need. I'm telling you.”

“Should I record the reason?”

The manager looked up from the screen.

“Don't complicate things. It's a special case.”

And there, within a few seconds, something happened that does not usually appear in performance reports.

A procedure that until a few minutes earlier had been mandatory suddenly became an obstacle.

The rule had not changed.

Not necessarily even the nature of the action had changed.

Only the person asking for the exception had changed.

In almost every organisation there is a document that sets out how the work must be done.

It may be called a rulebook, an operating procedure, an internal policy or a code of conduct. The name varies, but the purpose stays the same: to create a standard that does not depend on the wish of the moment.

An employee must know what is expected of him. A customer must receive predictable treatment. A manager must be able to hold people to account on the basis of known principles.

Without this structure, the organisation risks becoming the property of the mood of whoever has the most power.

Yet rulebooks have an enemy that is rarely mentioned in the documents in which they are approved.

The person who approves them.

Because there is a particular temptation in authority.

To regard the rules as essential for others, but negotiable for oneself.

And this temptation does not always appear in the form of open abuse.

Sometimes it comes dressed in the language of responsibility.

“We have to be practical.”

“The situation calls for flexibility.”

“We don't have time for bureaucracy.”

“I'll take it on myself.”

Sentences that in certain circumstances may be perfectly reasonable.

But that, in the wrong hands, can turn into the key with which power opens for itself every door it keeps shut for others.

There is an important difference between having greater authority and regarding yourself as above the rules.

A director may have the right to approve spending that an employee cannot authorise. He may take decisions that a shift leader has no competence to take. He may allow exceptions provided for in the organisation's policy.

These differences are necessary.

Responsibilities are not the same. Nor can authority always be the same.

But precisely because the manager has more room for decision, he must also have more discipline in how he uses it.

If an exception is allowed, there must be a reason.

If approval is required, it must be identifiable.

If a decision must be documented, the manager's name must not make documentation unnecessary.

Because the authority to take a decision is not automatically the authority to erase its traces.

And this is a distinction that some people understand only when their decision begins to have consequences.

One kind of manager troubles me in particular.

Not the one who openly breaks the rule and boasts of his power.

He is easy to recognise.

What troubles me is the manager who has a reasonable explanation for every exception he allows himself.

When an employee is late, he talks about discipline.

When he is late himself, he talks about unforeseen commitments.

When an employee does not finish the paperwork, he talks about a lack of professionalism.

When he does not finish it himself, he explains that he had more important matters.

When a subordinate takes a decision without approval, he demands an account.

When he takes a decision outside the normal process, he calls it initiative.

It is not necessarily so that these situations are always equal.

A manager may have responsibilities that justify different hours. An emergency may call for an immediate decision. A higher position may carry competences not delegated to other roles.

But the difference must rest on the circumstances and the authority, not on the name of the person.

If every violation by a subordinate is taken as a lack of character and every violation by the manager is explained as a necessity, the organisation no longer has a shared standard.

It has two ways of interpreting the same principle.

One is used to judge.

The other to justify.

The hypocrisy of power is not always deliberate.

That makes it even harder to oppose.

A manager may sincerely believe he is acting for the good of the organisation. He is responsible for results, for customers, for the budget and for the people who depend on his decisions.

Faced with a difficult situation, he may conclude that the procedure is stopping him from doing what is necessary.

Perhaps sometimes he is right.

But here begins a question that must not be avoided:

Who checks the judgement of the man who believes a good purpose justifies the exception?

Because intentions are a very weak proof of the fairness of a decision.

Almost nobody wants to see himself as a person who acts unjustly.

The man who favours a friend may believe he is rewarding loyalty.

The one who bypasses a check may believe he is protecting productivity.

The one who keeps quiet about a problem may believe he is avoiding panic.

And the manager who allows himself an exception may be fully convinced that his situation is different.

Perhaps it is.

But that must be proved through reason and standard, not through the conviction he has of himself.

Because a man who regards his own purposes as always good may begin to regard as unnecessary the limits that oblige him to check them.

There is a silent consequence when a manager does not respect the standards he demands of others.

People begin to study his behaviour more than the procedure.

At first, perhaps, they see it as an isolated case.

Then they notice another exception.

A deadline that is not met.

A request that bypasses the process.

A decision taken without the documentation demanded of others.

And gradually a new, unwritten knowledge begins to form.

The rule applies for as long as it does not obstruct the person who has the authority to apply it.

This knowledge is more powerful than many training courses.

Because employees may not remember every article of the rulebook.

But they remember what happened when the manager asked to do the opposite of what he had ordered.

And on the day they themselves face a difficult situation, his example may weigh more than the document.

If the manager can bypass the check to save time, why should it always be binding on the employee?

If one mistake can go undocumented to protect the department's reputation, why should another be reported at once?

If the rules change according to the person, why should anyone believe they exist to protect a principle?

So a small exception by the manager can produce a bigger consequence than the action itself.

It creates a precedent.

And precedents have a special ability to multiply when they serve people's interests.

An organisation may ask its staff to respect every detail of a procedure.

It can run training, carry out checks and take action when standards are broken.

But if managers do not take the same principles seriously, this whole structure begins to lose its moral authority.

Employees may go on obeying.

Not because they believe in the fairness of the rule.

But because they know the consequences of a breach are not shared equally.

And here a special form of discipline is born.

The discipline of fear.

People apply the procedure when they are checked.

They bypass it when they think there will be no consequences.

They report mistakes when they have no chance to hide them.

And they begin to see the standard as an obstacle to be managed, not a value to be defended.

This is a far greater loss than ignoring a document.

Because an organisation can correct a weak procedure.

It is far harder to win back the trust of people who have seen authority use the procedure according to its own interest.

But I do not want to turn this matter into a blind defence of rulebooks.

They too can be wrong.

They may have been written for conditions that no longer exist.

They may create needless delays.

They may force people to carry out actions that no longer produce any value.

And sometimes they may contain contradictions that make the work harder than it should be.

A good manager has no duty to defend every procedure just because it bears the organisation's signature.

He has a duty to examine it, to challenge it when necessary and to ask for it to be changed.

But a distinction must be made between changing the rule and secretly exempting yourself from it.

If a check is unnecessary, then it must be analysed why it exists and whether it can be removed.

If an approval process is too slow, it must be improved.

If a situation calls for flexibility, it must be set who can authorise it, under what conditions and how it is documented.

That is the work of leadership.

Whereas to go on demanding of others the application of a procedure that you bypass yourself whenever it gets in your way is something else.

It is not reform.

It is privilege.

And privilege does not become good management just because it is exercised by an experienced person.

The way a manager behaves in front of constraints says a lot about his character.

When everything goes to plan, respecting standards is relatively easy.

The difficulty appears when the procedure creates costs.

When it takes time.

When it blocks a decision that would bring an immediate benefit.

When it forces a mistake to be admitted.

When documenting an action may raise uncomfortable questions.

It is in precisely these moments that principles begin to mean something.

Because a principle that is respected only when it is convenient is not yet a tested principle.

It is a preference that has not been put in difficulty.

And a manager cannot ask for trust just by declaring that he is a man of principle.

He must show it when applying the principle costs him something.

Perhaps he must accept a delay.

Perhaps he must ask for approval from another body.

Perhaps he must document a decision he would rather keep out of sight.

Or admit that an employee was right when he reminded him of a limit he himself was about to cross.

This last may be the hardest.

Because it requires the manager to accept not only the existence of the rule, but also a subordinate's right to remind him of it.

In many workplaces, an employee may feel unsure when he has to object to a superior's request.

Especially when the request is made in a tone that leaves little room for discussion.

“Do it, I take the responsibility.”

This sentence may be appropriate when the manager has the authority and competence to authorise a lawful action.

But it is not a magic formula.

It cannot make lawful what is forbidden.

It cannot automatically replace a mandatory check.

It cannot free the employee from the duties that belong to his role.

And it must not put him in front of a choice between professional integrity and the fear of opposing his superior.

A manager who takes authority seriously must create the possibility for an employee to say to him:

“This needs approval.”

“This action must be documented.”

“This procedure does not allow us to go on in this way.”

Without turning a professional remark into a personal clash.

Because the person who reminds you of a limit may be protecting you from a mistake.

And if your title makes it impossible for people to say this, then your power has begun to cut you off from one of the most valuable sources of safety.

The judgement of the people who work with you.

There are managers who regard respect as a one-way relationship.

Employees must respect authority.

They must follow instructions.

They must apply standards.

And of course, these are a necessary part of an organisation.

But respect for authority cannot be demanded by exempting authority from responsibility.

If an employee is criticised for a lack of documentation, the manager must not consider the documentation of his own decisions superfluous.

If the team must keep deadlines, the manager must be just as serious about the deadlines he promises them.

If transparency about mistakes is demanded, it cannot stop at the moment the mistake belongs to management.

Here we are not speaking of identical duties.

We are speaking of the same principles.

Because justice does not require that everyone have the same authority.

It requires that authority not turn into a reason to be freed from the moral standard it demands of others.

But there is a harder test too.

It does not take place in front of the employees.

There are no witnesses.

There is no meeting.

There is no document to sign.

It is the moment when the manager stands alone in front of a decision and knows he can bypass the procedure without being noticed.

Nobody will object.

Perhaps nobody will find out.

The result may be good.

Time may be saved.

An uncomfortable explanation may be avoided.

In these moments, the person no longer faces the rulebook as a mechanism of control.

He faces it as a question about his own character.

Do I respect this standard because I believe in the reason it exists?

Or only because, in other circumstances, someone might hold me to account?

The answer is not given in a speech on ethics.

It is given in the decision taken when the exception looks easy and the check impossible.

And it is exactly there that you can tell whether a manager has built discipline or has merely learned to demand it of others.

In the end, power is not proved only by the ability to make people carry out your decisions.

It is proved also by the ability to accept limits you have not set only for them.

A manager must have authority.

He must be able to take hard decisions, change weak procedures and act with resolve when the situation demands it.

But he must not confuse this authority with a permanent exemption from accountability.

Because the more power a person gains, the greater may be the consequences of a decision that goes unchecked.

And that means limits become more important, not less.

An organisation can survive for a long time with imperfect procedures.

It can improve them.

It can change them.

It can adapt them to reality.

But when people lose the belief that rules are applied by principle and not by position, the organisation begins to lose something that cannot be repaired just by writing a new manual.

The credibility of leadership.

And without it, every rule needs more control to be applied.

Every decision creates more suspicion.

Every exception looks like a favour.

Every disciplinary measure risks being seen as an exercise of power, not the protection of a standard.

In that office at the beginning, the employee had asked a simple question.

“Should I record the reason?”

He had not opposed authority.

He had not challenged the manager's ability.

He had not asked for anything extraordinary.

He had asked only that the decision leave the same trace of responsibility that was demanded of others.

And the manager had a choice.

He could see the question as an obstacle.

Or he could understand it as proof that the standard the organisation had built was working.

He could have said:

“Yes. Record it. If my approval is needed, I'll give it according to the procedure.”

An ordinary answer.

No grandeur.

No heroism.

But with a value that no speech on leadership can replace.

Because it would have shown people that the manager was not afraid to act within the limits he himself asked them to respect.

And perhaps this is one of the rarest forms of professional integrity.

To be able to avoid the rule and still not do so, only because you have no fair reason to avoid it.

A manager does not grow greater when the rules stop applying to him. He becomes more trustworthy when he shows that even his power matters less than the principles he is meant to defend.

Because standards are not the proof of character of those who are obliged to obey them.

They are also the proof of character of those who have the power to bypass them.

And if an organisation needs rules to protect itself from the mistakes of employees, it needs limits just as much to protect itself from the unchecked self-confidence of managers.

In the end, the problem is not that a manager may take a decision different from the others.

The problem begins when he believes his position makes it unnecessary to give reasons for that decision.

Because rules that stop at the manager's door no longer protect the organisation from arbitrariness. They protect the manager's arbitrariness from the organisation.