What do Nick Fury’s Avengers Initiative, a law firm where every decision has to run through the managing partner, and my old bullseye org chart have in common?
They all look like leadership… but they quietly train everyone to wait for the hero (or want to be hero) to show up.
The Avengers only thrive when Captain steps up and leads with help from others. The law firm will come to a grinding halt if the owner has to rubber stamp everything and me…well there’s only so long I can do dodging questions and issues like Neo in the Matrix from Agent Smith’s bullers.
If your org chart points everything at you, your team isn’t you are failing them by micromanaging. Today I’ll show you the tweak we used that stopped the metaphoric arrows from hitting me all day.
Let’s fix the structure so you can stop being the structure.
The Shift: Stop Using Org Charts as a Family Tree
Quick nerdy history (I promise this won’t turn into a college lecture): org charts got popular because big organizations needed a way to show “who reports to who” when businesses scaled beyond “Bob yells across the room and Susan just knows.” They’re a tool for clarity, not a monument to your importance.
But law firms (mine included, for a long time) tend to use org charts like a medieval chain of command. It looks clean on paper… and in real life it creates the classic “mom/dad asked me to do it” problem where everyone is technically accountable to you, so no one is actually accountable to anything.
That’s why I ditched the bullseye org chart…I had to. I couldn’t survive in the middle with everyone’s questions and final approval requests pointed at me like arrows. I was the sun. The firm was the solar system. And yet somehow I was also the janitor…or at least cleaning up everyone else’s shit (thankfully metaphorically).
The shift, we moved to an Accountability Chart. Not “who reports to who.” More like: what seats exist, what outcomes each seat owns, and who is accountable for each one. If it sounds like Traction/EOS that’s because it is.
It’s less “Game of Thrones” and more late seasons of “Parks & Rec”: everyone knows their department, their job, and who to talk to before they wander into your office like Andy Dwyer with a new idea and zero plan.
Proof It Works: My Life Got… Weirdly Calm?
When we made this switch, two things happened pretty fast:
First, my interruptions dropped a lot. Like, roughly 30–40% fewer “hey quick question” drive-bys within a couple months. Not because people stopped needing help, but because they finally knew where help was supposed to come from.
Second, decisions started getting made without me. Which was both amazing and mildly insulting. (Like when your kid finally ties their shoes and you’re proud… but also you’re like, “Wow, so you really didn’t need me for that for the last two years?”)
And the big one: I got chunks of uninterrupted time back. Not “I worked late but it was quiet” time. Actual workday time. The kind where you can think, plan, and maybe even breathe like a normal mammal.
The Lie We Tell Ourselves: “I’m the Only One Who Can Do It Right”
Let’s call out the most common lie law firm owners tell themselves (and again, I’m in this too):
“I’m the only one who can do it right.”
That’s not a competency statement. That’s a control issue wearing a suit.
And the bullseye org chart reinforces it. It tells your team: “Jordan (or you) is the final boss for every decision.” So they act accordingly. They escalate. They wait. They ping you. They DM you. They Slack you. They send an email that somehow says “per my last email” on the first email.
If you want people to take ownership, you have to give them a seat to own. Not vibes. Not “just handle it.” Not “use your best judgment” with zero guardrails. A real, defined, visible responsibility.
Practical Moves: 5 Tips to Build an Accountability Chart That Actually Helps
Start with outcomes, not people . Write down the 5–8 major functions your firm must nail to run (intake, case work, ops, finance, marketing, etc.). Then define what “winning” looks like for each. Then assign humans.
Give each seat 3–5 clear responsibilities (max). If a seat has 14 responsibilities, congrats, you made a dumpster fire job description. Keep it tight enough that someone can actually own it.
One seat = one accountable owner. I don’t remember much from CPR training for my high school job. If you need CPR I would be hit or miss…but I DO remember that you have to tell a SPECIFIC person to go call 911. Not everyone. Pick a PERSON. This is like that. Multiple people can help, but one person “owns the number” or “owns the outcome.” Otherwise you’ve created a group project, and we all know how that ends: one overachiever and three ghosts.
Make the escalation rule stupid simple. Example: “If it’s under $X, you decide. If it impacts a deadline, loop in your direct leader. If it’s a client emergency, here’s the path.” This prevents the classic “I wasn’t sure so I asked you” reflex.
Review it quarterly like it’s a living thing. Seats change. People grow. Work evolves. Your chart isn’t carved into stone tablets like Moses brought down from the mountain (and even got revisions from Rabbis aka legal).
Wrap: Stop Being the Bullseye
If your firm still runs on the bullseye org chart, you’re basically living in a superhero origin story where the hero never gets the training montage. You’re just… getting punched in the face every day and calling it leadership.
An accountability chart is the opposite. It’s you finally building the Justice League instead of personally trying to be Batman, Alfred, the Batmobile, and the guy who fixes the Batmobile.
And yes, this tweak sounds “organizational.” But it’s actually a life move. Because when everyone knows who owns what, you stop being the default answer machine. You get your brain back. You get your time back. And you start running a firm that supports your life… instead of a firm that slowly eats it.
Next week we’re going to go deep on The “Big Fix” Is Killing Your Firm.
Until then, spend 5–10 minutes writing down your firm’s 5–8 core functions and circle the two that currently send the most arrows at you.