Persistent Heroism Syndrome


A couple of days ago, we had a budget pre-brief meeting. Customers sit with us for 25-30 minutes and we walk through what our rates for services will be for the following fiscal year. Important, but not critical. Certainly no risk to life and limb. One of my employees – as valued as they come and responsible for said brief – was slated to miss the briefing because of a funeral. Except they didn’t.

After the briefing was over, the knee-jerk reaction was “what the %$#^ were you doing on this call?” with the intent of passionately reinforcing the need to take time off/be with family at this terrible time – all the things a leader is supposed to say in a situation like this. That would have felt good in the moment and allowed me to saunter off to other things, safe in the knowledge that I had done the “right thing”. I did ask that person’s supervisor to reinforce the need to commit to taking leave and allow backups to back up, but something behind this event stuck with me.

What I realized – for lack of a better term – is the culture we developed relies on something I call Persistent Heroism Syndrome. Employees that are given areas of responsibility – supervisory, subject matter expertise, product or operational support, owner of a specific talent – become tied to the perception that they will deliver regardless of circumstance.

What’s the big deal with that? We all want to have stellar reputations in our professional lives, and being the “rock star” or “good man in a storm” is a way to earn one. Not to mention that there are instances where extra effort, late nights, and some personal sacrifices are necessary – we’ve all been there. And I’d wager it was one of those emergencies that got you noticed by senior leaders.

My definition of Persistent Heroism Syndrome, however, comes into play when the difference between a real and perceived emergency becomes cloudy or disappears altogether. 8-hour days become 9, then 10. Weekend work goes from “I’ll just log in to check email” to “I need the peace and quiet to focus on this proposal” to not even justifying it anymore. The damage this does to the individual and their personal life is obvious to friends and family and, having left my psychology degree in my other life, will not dig into that here. What I want to pass along are two things – the damage to the organization and leader’s responsibility in addressing it.

Syndrome sufferers destroy succession planning by denying opportunities, plain and simple. Your junior leaders will never develop presentation skills if they never present, or meeting management skills if they never manage a meeting. If decisions are never delegated, the team not only surrenders the opportunity to make them, they no longer ask for the chance. Gaps in experience, decision-making skills, and proactive behaviors are masked. Vigilance in monitoring processes and procedures withers because our PHS sufferer has it and never let anyone else touch it. This can work in situations where resources are constrained but talent and energy is available. But it cannot be sustained – nor should it.

As leaders, we need to recognize these tendencies in our staff and provide positive reinforcement and guidance. Ensure they embrace their staff and share the workload. Provide training opportunities and expose them to activities that they will perform more often at the next level. More extreme measures – like locking active directory accounts after hours and surrendering mobile devices – can be explored if the other things don’t work, but save them for later.

More importantly, we need to lead by example. Your staff look to you to understand what circumstances are actual emergencies so they can act accordingly. Critically, they look to you for what standard is set when things aren’t. Your willingness to hop on every Sunday and work on documents gets around, and is emulated. If your Teams indicator is green 2 hours after you told everyone else to go home, that will be noticed. Your words will fade as your actions speak far, far louder.

How do I know? Because I am one. The lesson I am learning is that my personal work choices aren’t personal – they resonate. I am immensely proud of the people on my team, and they have proven time and again the capacity to deliver under remarkable circumstances. But we are fewer than we were – 1 in 4 walked out the door and aren’t coming back – and the capacity to cover down simply isn’t there. When I stay late or work over the weekend, people see that and react accordingly. Even as I say on staff meetings that time off is valuable and not to be treated lightly, I cloud that message mere hours later. I’m doing it right now.