Firefighters Love a Fire

The Firefighting Culture

Over the last 37 years working in operations, I've spent time in hundreds of businesses across different industries and countries. And despite all the differences in products, systems and cultures, one thing always seems remarkably consistent:

Human nature dictates the feel of the workplace.

Now, I'm generalising slightly here — but traditional middle management often develops from operational roles. They are usually strong characters, experienced, practical and very good at getting things done.

And to be fair, most of them are excellent at fixing problems.

Machines break down? Customer screaming? Production behind? Delivery missed?

No problem. All hands to the pump.

And this is where it gets interesting.

Because firefighters love a fire.

There's a strange energy that appears during a crisis. The rush of adrenaline. The frantic radio calls. The emergency meetings. The heroic last-minute recovery. Then afterwards, the coffee-room debrief where everyone congratulates each other for "pulling together" and saving the day.

The people involved get praised for the extra effort. Managers feel important because they solved something under pressure. Entire cultures can quietly form around firefighting.

The problem is… nobody asks why the fire keeps starting in the first place.

A Different Response at Toyota

I went straight from construction into Toyota in the early 90s, which was a bit of a culture shock.

The personalities I met there were very different from the people I'd worked with on building sites — and very different from most businesses I would later encounter outside Toyota.

At Toyota, leaders could absolutely solve problems. Some of the best operational minds I've ever worked with were there.

But the response was different.

The final sentence was never: "Well done for putting out the fire."

Instead, it was: "How do we make sure this never happens again?"

That small difference changes everything.

The focus immediately shifted away from heroics and towards systems.

What process allowed this to happen? Was the process robust enough? Were people properly trained and confirmed? Was the standard clear? Did the process itself need redesigning?

At Toyota, repeatedly fixing the same issue was not seen as impressive.

It was seen as failure to learn.

The Manager With the "Easy Job"

Years later, I remember working with a large company in Australia. There was one senior middle manager who had a reputation for having an "easy job."

The reason? There were never any major fires in his area.

Other managers quietly joked about it. Even some of the directors thought he had somehow avoided the pressure everyone else dealt with daily.

Then I spent time with him.

While others were charging around solving visible problems, this manager was doing something much less dramatic: observing processes, listening to the workforce, checking standards, coaching people, spotting small issues early, and encouraging teams to raise concerns before they became disasters.

He spent his time looking for sparks before they became blazes.

There were no dramatic recoveries. No heroic moments. No emotional war stories in the coffee room.

Just stable performance. Predictable output. Calm teams.

In other words — good management.

That "easy job" manager eventually went on to lead a major business.

Many of the firefighters stayed exactly where they were, unknowingly creating the next generation of firefighters underneath them.

And the business continued lurching from one crisis to another, celebrating the recovery each time while never truly addressing the root causes.

Firefighting Is Addictive

The reality is that firefighting can become addictive.

Problems create visibility. Calmness rarely does.

But great operational cultures are not built around heroic recoveries. They are built around prevention. Around process. Around consistency. Around leaders who are curious enough to ask: "Why did this happen?" instead of: "Who fixed it?"

Because the best operations are usually a little bit boring.

The lines run. The problems are small. The standards are clear. And nobody needs to sprint through the factory at 6pm because someone forgot to check something at 9am.

That doesn't mean problems disappear completely. They never do.

But the mindset changes from: "Who can save us?" to: "What system stops this repeating?"

And that is where real operational excellence begins.

Not in the drama of the fire. But in quietly removing the fuel.

— Richard Pounder, Founder, Complete Lean Solutions (Ex Toyota TPS Office)