It’s Like, You Know…

It's Like, You Know: Using Metaphors and Analogies to Define Our Identity as Leaders

I gave a presentation at an IAEM conference a few years ago called It's Like, You Know and it was one of my favorites. The premise was simple: figurative language, metaphors, similes, analogies, helps us make sense of things that are hard to explain. And there are few things harder to explain than what it's actually like to lead without a lot of authority, resources, or recognition.

So I want to revisit some of those metaphors here, stripped of the emergency management context, because I think they land for anyone leading a function that doesn't fit neatly into the org chart.

The Fire Extinguisher

You don't need it often, but when you do, you need it to be ready. That's how a lot of organizations think about the people and functions that sit outside the daily operational flow. Hangs out in a strategic location. Considered critical in a crisis. Mostly ignored otherwise. The question the fire extinguisher metaphor raises is the one that keeps a lot of us up at night: what is its value when there is no fire? How do you build and maintain relevance when your whole purpose is to prevent or respond to things people hope will never happen?

The Junk Drawer

Every household has one. Useful stuff in there, tailored to the specific needs of that family, things you can't find anywhere else when you need them. The problem is it gets used infrequently, so people forget what's in it. They go buy something new and duplicate what's already there. They forget that some of what's in the drawer is actually useful every day, not just in a pinch. The junk drawer is a step up from the fire extinguisher in that it has everyday utility, but only if someone takes the time to understand what's actually in it and make the case for using it.

Sound familiar?

The Siblings

Think about three siblings in a family. Each with their own personality, their own history, their own sense of where they fit. These can be first responder disciplines, different organizations you work with, or business sectors. You will recognize them as follows.

The oldest has never worn a hand-me-down. Sees themselves as the leader, and honestly, so does everyone else. Doesn't always listen to the younger ones because they've never had to.

The middle child is up for almost anything. Slightly quirky, very adaptable, finds ways to stand out. People sometimes find them a little much, but they get things done in ways the oldest never could.

And then there's the youngest. Nobody is really paying attention anymore. Hand-me-down everything. Looks a little rough around the edges. The dog is licking the pacifier off the floor.

But don't be fooled. The youngest is scrappy. Quietly plotting. And will be the one who surprises everyone with their calm when things get hard.

I have felt like all three of these at different points in my career. If you lead a function that people don't fully understand, you probably have too. The question worth sitting with is which one you are right now, and whether that's working for you.

The Stage Manager

This is the one I keep coming back to. The stage manager knows the script inside and out. They coordinate a large cast of players, make sure the right resources are in the right place at the right time, and must tell everyone everything all of the time. They work with the personalities and talents of the people around them. They adjust constantly when actors forget their lines, props go missing, or the audience reacts in ways nobody anticipated.

And here is the part that gets me every time: the stage manager is not the director. Not the producer. They don't have that authority or that budget. But they must have influence to get things done, and they often feel like they're running the whole show anyway.

The stage manager arrives first and leaves last.

That's adaptive leadership in a job description. You don't control the outcome. You create the conditions for it. You lead through preparation, relationships, and presence, not position.

Your turn.

What metaphor fits your experience? What do you find yourself saying when someone asks what you actually do? I'd love to hear it.