Throughout our lives and careers, there will be times that we’re asked a question or asked to do something that is something we’d rather not say or do. It’s normal. Sometimes we might not believe what the desired answer is. In other words, our boss wants us to agree with them. Even though we might not agree, we go along with what’s expected of us. These can be seminal moments in determining who we are and what we stand for. And I mean this quite literally. How we answer a tough question or speak up at a critical moment will define us.

Years ago, when I was Chief 1 on a large western Forest, I was visiting every station and every firefighter with my boss and their boss. It was a big deal for my boss’s boss to come to town and make this three-day trip visiting and talking with our firefighters. There was an important topic that we were meeting on and even though I wasn’t excited to be spending three days with “the brass,” I did my Chiefly duty and smiled and drove my bosses around the Forest.

Visiting the stations and meeting with the firefighters was something I did regularly on my own. I found it enjoyable to engage the young firefighters and answer questions. Sometimes the questions were pretty direct. But I prided myself in always being honest, even if the answer I gave wasn’t going to be what they wanted to hear.

This trip was going to be a little different. We were meeting on a topic of great concern to our workforce. One of our firefighters had been charged with a crime while on a fire. Four firefighters had died while he was the IC. Everyone knew he might not have been one of our higher performing Crew Captains, but we also knew he had not committed a crime. So now me, my boss, and their boss were visiting each station to talk to the firefighters, answer questions, and offer what little assurances we could that the agency had their back and the back of our criminally charged fire leader.

At one of the stations, while visiting with about 30 or more firefighters, one of the captains asked the question, “what do you recommend we do if we’re involved in a serious accident or fatality?”  (This was more than 20 years ago.) My boss answered with the company line, “speak up and tell the truth; we’ll have your back”. The captain then asked the big boss the same question and of course he gave the same company answer. Then the captain looked at me, “Bobbie, what about you, what do you think we should do?”

Here was my moment. I had two options, agree with my bosses or disagree with them in front of them and this group of firefighters. It would determine who I was and how I would be perceived as a leader of our 300-firefighter organization. I looked at my boss and then back at the captain. “No disrespect intended to our bosses, but my recommendation is to not say a word until you get legal representation.” I could see my boss’s face tighten up. They were pissed at me. Later in their office, they said to me, “you don’t always have to speak your mind. Sometimes you just need to follow agency direction.” I answered them by saying, “The moment I lie to my firefighters I will have lost every bit of credibility and respect that I have built with them.” It wasn’t an answer that they liked, but that was the truth.

That one event of speaking up didn’t hurt my career. On one hand, the firefighters knew I would speak truth to power, so that was a positive. But over a 45-year career, those “speaking up” events do add up.

I was always respectful when I disagreed with the bosses. I tried not to be argumentative but clear about what was right and what was wrong. What was accurate and what was not. Folks in positions of leadership who might be lacking some fundamental knowledge of the work we do can get defensive when confronted with their own lack of understanding. And the higher someone moves up in an organization, the less accustomed they are to people openly disagreeing with them.

I believe the folks who worked for me knew I would always speak the truth, or at least my opinion whether they agreed with me or not. It helped that I had a strong operational background and had the stripes to go with my rank. My peers also knew I would speak up when it was clear that something coming down from “the top” was bogus and written by someone who obviously didn’t know what they were talking about. That’s not uncommon in the federal government. Well-intentioned folks often give directions without knowing the subject well enough.

I had many experiences of being in meetings with other Forest Fire Chiefs and staff when something was being said by higher leadership that we all knew wouldn’t work or was inaccurate. More than once, the eyes in the room would seek me out to give me the look… “are you going to say something?”  I usually did.

In some circles, this gave me status as the person who will speak up when necessary. The person who will stand up when the truth needs to prevail. My peers might have fallen into two categories. Those who were thankful that I wasn’t afraid to speak up and help the organization versus those who thought I was dumb for doing so.

It’s a tightrope walk. How much can you speak up and shine a light on direction and policy that hurts the organization or firefighters without being seen as a pain in the ass to the upper leadership. That’s a tough one. But when you get to a certain level in the organization, you have to walk carefully. You can’t fight every battle. If you tried, leadership would eventually push you off to the side and ignore you. You have to remain relevant. And to do so requires you to choose your words carefully, speak respectfully, and offer your perspective with humble professionalism. And that can be difficult if you’re a bit of a knuckle dragging ops person like me. You might want to rail against every dumb letter of direction coming down from the top. But you have to use your organizational stock value judiciously. The higher your stock value, the more you can speak up.

This advice comes from hindsight after many years in the fire service. When I was younger, I fought back at the dumb or ill-informed direction that was sent down to the field. I always spoke up when I saw something wrong, inaccurate, or dangerous. I just didn’t know how to do it without leaving dead bodies around me. Sometimes my own.  I wish I had learned this lesson earlier in my career. What I needed to learn was, I could be honest and forthright in my words without coming across as an asshole. Maturity helps.

When I speak with friends, I sometimes lament that I never quite achieved in my career what I thought I was capable of. To my friends who weren’t firefighters, they think I was very accomplished… and I was. But, later in my career, when opportunities came along that I thought I could have really helped the agency and our firefighters, I was never considered for those highest-level jobs. My friends who worked at those high-level positions understood my feelings. They saw me not considered for those last few positions I applied for. They understood.

When I worked at the national office in Washington DC for a while, it became clear that my reputation as a straight talking, clear text leader in the fire world was not appreciated when you got to the national level. It’s there that leadership isn’t used to having someone speak the truth to them. I wasn’t exactly surprised by this revelation. Even though I always spoke respectfully, I was called an “old school ops chief” by some. I thought that was hilarious. Me? An old school ops chief? Oh well.

So what? Should I have done something different?  If I had the chance to go back and relive my career, would I change my approach? Would I change my values and speak more politically correct in order to finally achieve a higher-level position? When I started my career, all I wanted to do was ride on the engine tailboard and go fight fires. I never had any intentions of moving up the ladder into management. But 45 years is a long time. Just by attrition, you’re going to get promoted. I think it’s clear that there is a price you pay for speaking up in the workplace.

So, if there’s a price for speaking up at work, is there a price for not speaking up? That’s an important question to ask yourself. How many times have you been given directions whether on the fire ground or at the station that were wrong, dangerous, or inaccurate? What’s the most common response to that kind of direction? Often times, we just ignore it and do what we know is right. I don’t think any of us will follow dangerous directions just because. But we might ignore them. Let me suggest that not speaking up and just ignoring those orders can be as dangerous in the long run as following bad directions.

Choose your battles carefully. You can’t fight every battle otherwise you’ll run out of ammo. But for the sake of your organization, your module unit, and your fellow firefighters, speak up respectfully. The cost is definitely worth the results.

Now Available

Both Sides of the Fire Line is Bobbie Scopa’s uplifting memoir of bravely facing the heat of fierce challenges, professionally and personally. It’s available now.