The Day My Lunch Called the Fire Department

When I was about 20 years old, I worked paid EMS and volunteered at my local fire department. One summer day, I volunteered to cover the daytime shift at the firehouse. It was quiet. No calls. No emergencies. Nothing happening. Which, of course, is normally when trouble begins.

Around 11:30, I decided to make lunch. I put a can of Campbell’s soup in a pan, turned on the stove, and went off to do some equipment checks. I do not remember what kind of soup it was. 

Whatever flavor it began as, it eventually became “smoke.” A few minutes later, the siren above the firehouse went off. At our department, the siren system was pretty simple. If it sounded once, we had an ambulance call. If it continued, we had a fire call. I stood there and listened.

One siren. Then a second. A fire call. I enthusiastically grabbed my gear, got dressed, and hurried into the radio room to find out where we were going. The dispatcher came over the radio. “It’s an automatic alarm at your base.”

I remember thinking, That’s strange.

I was standing inside the base. I had not heard an alarm. I did not see a fire. Everything seemed perfectly normal.

Then it hit me: the soup!

I ran toward the kitchen and discovered that my lunch had progressed well beyond “slightly overcooked.” It had burned badly enough to fill the kitchen with smoke and activate the fire alarm. I had managed to create a fire call at the firehouse. There is probably a special award for that.

I quickly told dispatch that everything was under control and the building was not actually on fire. Unfortunately, the rest of the department had already heard the call. Volunteers were jumping into their vehicles, racing toward the station, prepared to save the firehouse from destruction. They arrived ready for smoke, flames, danger, and possibly heroic action. Instead, they found me standing beside a ruined pan of Campbell’s soup.

Firefighters are generally compassionate people. They are also completely unwilling to ignore material like this. For quite some time, I became the subject of jokes, comments, and helpful reminders about basic cooking safety. I deserved every one of them.

Looking back, the story still makes me laugh. But it also reminds me of something important about leadership.

Most leadership problems do not begin as enormous problems. They begin as something small we believe we can safely ignore.

• A conversation we need to have.

• A commitment we have not followed up on.

• A teammate who is beginning to struggle.

• A process everyone knows is broken.

• A decision we assume someone else is handling.

• A can of soup quietly burning on the stove.

We tell ourselves we will get back to it. Then the siren goes off.

Strong leaders do not merely respond well when alarms sound. They develop the awareness and discipline to notice what is beginning to burn before it becomes an emergency.

That requires attention. It requires follow-through. It requires the humility to recognize that even small responsibilities deserve stewardship. Especially the ordinary ones.

Leadership is often less about dramatic heroics and more about remembering what you left on the stove.

And occasionally, it means admitting that the fire department raced to the firehouse because you could not successfully heat up lunch.