Heroism Is Not a Strategy
If your business depends on constant heroism, it’s not resilient—it’s broken.
Every company—no matter how well run—will occasionally need a heroic effort. A sleepless night. A canceled vacation. A last-minute “planes, trains, and automobiles” scramble to save a deal, make a delivery, or hit a number.
But when those situations become normal instead of rare, it’s no longer heroism.
It’s dysfunction.
We’ve All Been There
It’s Friday evening. The project’s already behind. Then the customer asks for a “small change” (that’s anything but) before they’ll sign off. But if the delivery slips by 24 hours, the company can’t recognize the revenue and will miss its forecast. So the CEO hits the “all hands on deck” button.
After a lost weekend and 48 sleepless hours, the team pulls it off. The product ships just in time. And a heartfelt email goes out praising the team for going “above and beyond” to satisfy a key customer and show what it means to have a “can-do” culture.
But you know what would’ve been better than the recognition?
Not needing the heroics in the first place.
Yes, S**t Happens
No amount of planning can prepare for everything.
And for early-stage companies, planning often feels like it prepared you for absolutely nothing.
Products fail. Customers change their minds. You overpromise to land your first huge account. Disasters strike with no warning.
In those cases, heroics are absolutely necessary—and sometimes even energizing. They build trust, sharpen instincts, create team pride. Some employees thrive on the adrenaline of pulling off the impossible.
But that’s only healthy when it’s the exception.
When heroics become routine, something is deeply broken. And like any emergency brake, if you pull it too often, it stops working.
When Heroics Become the System
There’s a cognitive trap at play here—survivorship bias.
We see that a team pulled off a miracle and assume it’s proof of a repeatable strategy.
Instead of being punished for poor planning, leadership gets rewarded with results.
Instead of examining what went wrong, they start planning around heroics.
And just like that, the company begins to normalize dysfunction:
Fire drills become launch plans
Crunch time becomes all the time
Urgency replaces process
Heroics shift from rare exception to expected routine.
The Hidden Message
Many leaders are quick to send a glowing “thank you” note after a heroic push. It demonstrates humility and appreciation. Their executive coach will likely praise them for “doing the recognition thing.”
And sure, public praise is appropriate. But if that’s where it ends, the wrong message gets sent:
“Thanks for working the weekend” = we didn’t plan this well
“Amazing effort under pressure” = we count on burnout to deliver
“It took a Herculean push, but we made it” = we ignored early warnings
Heroics are part of business. But repetitive heroics are a symptom of failed systems and poor management, not just signs of a committed team.
A Better Way
Smart companies know how and when to praise heroics without relying on them.
They look at the conditions that led to last-minute chaos—and fix them.
They reward consistency, not just dramatic recoveries.
They ask:
Why did we need the rescue?
What warning signs did we miss?
What would have prevented the crisis in the first place?
Because the goal of good leadership isn’t just to recognize heroics—it’s to make them unnecessary.
What Does This Have to Do with Growth?
Heroics might save the quarter.
But they rarely build the kind of foundation that drives sustainable growth.
When companies rely on last-minute effort to hit targets, they’re managing for survival—not progress. They confuse short-term recovery with long-term capability.
Real growth requires systems that scale.
It requires consistency, predictability, and constant reflection—especially after a heroic sprint. Otherwise, the same problems come back. So do the same fire drills. And over time, teams burn out, dealing a major blow to the company’s growth.
Heroics can create special moments.
But growth is a habit.
And habits come from design, not desperation.