There used to be a time when you didn’t have to wonder if the person next to you would risk it all for you. You just knew. Because firefighting wasn’t just a job—it was a brotherhood. You didn’t clock in and out. You lived it. You respected the work, and you respected each other. You fought fires together. You laughed together. You struggled together. And when the worst happened, you mourned together. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real.
Somewhere along the way, we lost that. We started handing out titles like candy. We confused rank with leadership. We let ambition replace loyalty. We rewarded politics over performance. People started chasing the badge without remembering what the badge was supposed to mean. The badge got shinier, but the meaning behind it got duller.
Today, you can’t always tell who’s in it for the right reasons. Too often it’s not about serving the crew—it’s about serving yourself. It’s not about leading from the front—it’s about climbing to the next rung on the ladder. And the people paying the price aren’t the ones getting promoted. It’s the crews stuck under weak officers. It’s the citizens who expect the best from us and sometimes get something less.
This isn’t about nostalgia. It’s about survival—the survival of what made this job worth doing in the first place. Leadership was never supposed to be about power or privilege. It was supposed to be about carrying the weight. About putting others first. About setting the example, not barking orders from behind a desk.
The fire service doesn’t need more officers. It needs more leaders. And there’s a big difference. If you chase the badge without being willing to carry the burden that comes with it, you’re not leading—you’re just standing in the way of someone who would.
If you want to be different, it starts simple. Stay grounded. Never forget where you came from. Put your crew’s needs before your own. Keep training like you're still a rookie. Praise in public, correct in private. Earn trust slowly and protect it fiercely. And remember every single day: the badge doesn’t make you special—how you wear it does.
The future of the fire service depends on the kind of leaders we choose to be. Be the leader they would follow into anything.
Stop Chasing Rank. Start Remembering Why You’re Here.
by Terrence
Apr 28
There used to be a time when you didn’t have to wonder if the person next to you would risk it all for you. You just knew. Because firefighting wasn’t just a job—it was a brotherhood. You didn’t clock in and out. You lived it. You respected the work, and you respected each other. You fought fires together. You laughed together. You struggled together. And when the worst happened, you mourned together. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real.
Somewhere along the way, we lost that. We started handing out titles like candy. We confused rank with leadership. We let ambition replace loyalty. We rewarded politics over performance. People started chasing the badge without remembering what the badge was supposed to mean. The badge got shinier, but the meaning behind it got duller.
Today, you can’t always tell who’s in it for the right reasons. Too often it’s not about serving the crew—it’s about serving yourself. It’s not about leading from the front—it’s about climbing to the next rung on the ladder. And the people paying the price aren’t the ones getting promoted. It’s the crews stuck under weak officers. It’s the citizens who expect the best from us and sometimes get something less.
This isn’t about nostalgia. It’s about survival—the survival of what made this job worth doing in the first place. Leadership was never supposed to be about power or privilege. It was supposed to be about carrying the weight. About putting others first. About setting the example, not barking orders from behind a desk.
The fire service doesn’t need more officers. It needs more leaders. And there’s a big difference. If you chase the badge without being willing to carry the burden that comes with it, you’re not leading—you’re just standing in the way of someone who would.
If you want to be different, it starts simple. Stay grounded. Never forget where you came from. Put your crew’s needs before your own. Keep training like you're still a rookie. Praise in public, correct in private. Earn trust slowly and protect it fiercely. And remember every single day: the badge doesn’t make you special—how you wear it does.
The future of the fire service depends on the kind of leaders we choose to be. Be the leader they would follow into anything.