Ah, the firehouse—where the air is thick with camaraderie, the coffee is stronger than the chief’s opinion on ladder placement, and everyone has an uncanny ability to turn the tiniest mistake into a legendary story that will haunt you forever. Being a leader here isn’t for the faint of heart, but if you do it right, you’ll earn respect faster than a rookie can fill the blinker fluid (twenty-plus years later and I am still salty they got me with that one as a probie!).
I’ll kick off tonight’s blog with the age-old debate: Should respect be handed out like candy on Halloween just because you’ve got some shiny rank on your chest? Or should it be earned in the trenches, where the donuts are stale (little cop reference), the jokes are worse (like my blog), and the hose always kinks at the worst possible moment?
Personally, after being in the trenches for over twenty years as a grunt and a small stint as a lieutenant in a volley-house, I think it’s a bit of both. But instead of diving straight into philosophical musings, I’ll artfully weave that idea into this blog like the grizzled veteran I pretend to be. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my police and firehouse career, it’s that half the battle of leadership is looking like you know what you’re doing—even when you’re just hoping nobody notices you’ve got mismatched boots on.
Throughout my career, I never got the shiny title or rank that screams, "Look at me, I’m the boss!" In fact, I thought I wanted to be “a leader” for about five minutes—right up until I realized the title itself means squat. Leadership didn’t come to me through a badge or a big chair at the table; it found me through action, connection, and proving I could be trusted when it mattered.
This kind of leadership—what fancy people call informal or influence-based—isn’t handed out. It’s earned in the trenches, where coffee is cold, humor is dark, and respect is given sparingly but sincerely. Looking back, I’m grateful I spent my career in those trenches. The “trench dwellers” taught me lessons some rank-chasers missed entirely—like how to lead without a title and how to turn chaos into clarity. Or, just how to treat people like a decent human being!
Of course, spending the last decade studying and teaching leadership in an academic setting hasn’t hurt, either. But let’s be real—most of what I know came from getting my hands dirty and learning the hard way... and occasionally from watching someone else screw up so I didn’t have to repeat their blunder. Sometimes, it is nice to judge from a distance and learn from the mistakes of less competent leaders.
To put it mildly, now that I think about it, this whole topic tonight is about as controversial as pineapple on pizza (and still sparks debate in some agencies today). What am I talking about? Well, picture this: you're knee-deep in an emergency, flying solo, or paired with someone so green they’re practically photosynthesizing. What do you do? You dig deep into your mental Rolodex of training and experience, slap on your “I got this” face, and make a decision. Simple, right? Then you spend the rest of the day praying the higher-ups don’t slap you with formal discipline for it. It’s the living embodiment of “ask for forgiveness, not permission”—a motto that has gotten more first responders through sticky situations than any policy manual ever could.
Wait, what? That can’t be, right? Policies shape behavior and we can’t have anarchy on the fireground! Settle down there white shirt… I’m getting to a point!
Let me be crystal clear here: I’m NOT telling you to go out there and gleefully break policies and procedures like you’re starring in some rogue action movie. But let’s be honest—sometimes reality doesn’t fit neatly into the rulebook. And when lives are on the line, well... you gotta send it, right? If you’re sitting there nodding your head and muttering, “hell yeah,” then congrats, my friend—we’re cut from the same slightly rebellious, results-driven cloth. Just don’t come crying to me when the Chief calls you into the office and gives your dangly bits a proper spanking after the dust settles from your heroic decision.
In my experience, if your higher-ups trust you to make snap decisions when the pressure’s on, you’re on the right track to becoming a leader. Trust, however, is a razor-thin line in the world of first responders, and you better be damn ready to defend your choices out in the field. If you can’t? Well... you’re screwed. Pack your ego and brace yourself for the fallout, because I promise you, I’ve taken my fair share of lumps over the years, and it sucks. However, there is an upside since it builds character—and a thick skin!
Here is some unsolicited veteran advice: when the Chief comes knocking, don’t play coy—fall on that sword immediately and lay out all the facts about why you did what you did. Own it, explain it, and pray you sound like you knew what you were doing. If you can’t, well, I am going to be brutally honest with you – you shouldn’t have done it! So, enjoy your suspension and train up to make the right one in the future.
If you get out ahead of the situation, you might just dodge formal discipline. But the longer you wait to tell your side of the story, the harder it’ll be to justify your decisions. Hesitate too long, and suddenly, your heroic "heat-of-the-moment" judgment call looks more like a chaotic game of oops, my bad.
If you take anything from my rambling tonight, let it be this: true leadership isn’t about having a fancy title or a shiny badge. It’s about what you do, what you know, and how you earn the trust and respect of those around you. Real leaders inspire through integrity, lead by example, and make a difference—not because they have to, but because they choose to.
If you screw up, own it like an adult. If you nail it, don’t strut around like you’re auditioning for Top Gun—just tuck it away in your mental filing cabinet and use it to help the next person in line. Leadership isn’t about puffing your chest out like a rooster; it’s about being the one who’s always ready to lend a hand, share a lesson, or take the heat when things go sideways.
So, to wrap it up in a neat little package: leadership isn’t about the title, the badge, or the fancy office with the ergonomic chair. It’s about stepping up when things hit the fan, earning trust by doing what’s right (even when no one’s looking), and maybe making a few mistakes along the way—because let’s face it, if you’re not messing up, are you even trying?
At the end of the day, the best leaders are the ones who can laugh at themselves, own their screw-ups, and help others rise without ever needing a plaque to remind them they’re in charge. If you can do that, congratulations—you’re already leading, no title needed. But if you do end up with a title, don’t forget to mentor those below you, because trust me, there are plenty of people like me out there just waiting to spot your cracks and make a mental note. Consider it your leadership test—no pressure, though.
As always, stay safe and keep an eye on each other. Happy Thanksgiving, and for the love of all things holy, please don’t burn your house down trying to fry a turkey! -Dr. M
