Incident Commanders Are Too Rigid

Incident Commanders: How to Lead Without Becoming a Bureaucratic Robot

I’ll never forget the first major incident I had to run point on. Systems were down, dashboards were blinking angrily, Slack was a madhouse—and there I was, trying to play incident commander like I knew what I was doing. Spoiler: I didn’t.

At one point, I was sending scheduled status updates into the void while secretly thinking, “Nobody cares, they just want this thing fixed.” Meanwhile, ten smart engineers were tripping over each other trying to solve it, and I was stuck playing traffic cop with a clipboard. It felt less like leadership and more like trying to herd caffeinated cats through a burning server room.

That’s when it hit me: structure is great… until it starts getting in the way.

Why We Even Have Incident Commanders (And Why It’s Not a Dumb Idea)

Look, there’s a reason the IC role exists. I’m not just saying that because I once desperately needed an IC to save me from my own panic spiral.

Incidents are chaotic. They’re like bad weddings: too many speeches, not enough dancing. Without someone clearly steering the ship, you get a bunch of engineers yelling different solutions at once, and no actual progress. The incident commander’s real job is to slice through that chaos—to get decisions made, make sure roles are clear, keep leadership informed, and most importantly, protect the responders from random noise.

When it clicks, it’s seriously impressive. You get the right people working on the right things. Updates flow naturally. Customers stay reasonably calm. Leadership doesn’t hover (as much). Progress keeps happening even when half the systems look like they’re auditioning for a disaster movie.

Where It All Starts to Go Sideways

But here’s the rub: not every incident needs a full tactical SWAT team.

Sometimes the problem is blindingly obvious—like, “oh, someone unplugged the wrong server” obvious. Other times, you’re peeling back layer after confusing layer like an onion that hates you. And in those cases, dragging out the full Incident Commander Script™ can slow you down more than it helps.

I once worked on a team where, no matter how small the issue was—even if it was just a minor alert—the whole formal process got rolled out. Status updates every 15 minutes, strict role assignments, action items for everyone. It was like bringing a 30-piece orchestra to play ‘Happy Birthday.’ Half the time, we spent more energy managing the process than actually fixing the problem.

And that’s when you start seeing the real problems:

First, formality kills momentum. Engineers get so focused on following the process that they stop actually solving the problem. It’s like trying to put out a fire while also filling out a risk assessment form every five minutes.

Second, role rigidity becomes painful, especially on small teams. When one engineer could easily juggle two hats, forcing them into one narrow role makes them feel like they’re being micromanaged by a robot overlord.

Third, command paralysis kicks in. Newer ICs, afraid of making a mistake, freeze up. Senior engineers—who could probably fix the thing in ten minutes—wait around, unwilling to step on the IC’s toes. Everyone’s stuck playing a weird, awkward version of “Mother May I?” instead of just fixing stuff.

Oh, and let’s not forget tool overload. Incident channels sometimes look like someone dumped the entire library of templates, checklists, and escalation charts into a blender. Helpful? In theory. In practice? About as comforting as getting 37 Slack notifications about how you’re failing.

And lastly, culture clash is real. If your team normally works through problems with trust and loose collaboration, suddenly throwing a military-style chain of command at them feels… weird. People start resisting, sometimes in subtle ways—like “accidentally” forgetting to give their updates or just fixing things without telling anyone.

But Hey, Structure Isn’t the Enemy

Let’s be real: if a huge production system is melting down, you want someone in charge.

Structure saves lives (and jobs) when the stakes are high. Especially in highly regulated environments, you need clean timelines, organized communication, and a calm voice coordinating the madness. Leadership needs updates. Customers need explanations. Auditors need something to audit. A battle-tested IC process can mean the difference between a painful incident and a career-defining disaster.

Plus, when practiced enough, the process stops feeling stiff. It becomes second nature—like muscle memory for high-stress moments.

Too Much Process, and You Forget Why You’re Even There

The trouble starts when the process becomes the goal.

I’ve seen incidents where engineers were more worried about whether they were “authorized” to reboot a server than whether rebooting would actually solve the problem. Creative thinking shriveled up. People stopped offering ideas unless it was their “assigned role.” You could almost hear the sighs over Slack.

And let’s not even get started on the tiny incidents that get blown up into full emergency productions. It’s like using a wrecking ball to swat a mosquito.

Worst of all, rigid IC frameworks can burn people out. Not everyone wants to be “The Decider” under pressure. Forcing every engineer into a stiff leadership mold—especially introverts, quiet thinkers, or the ones new to the team—can push some seriously talented people away from ever wanting to touch incidents again.

And that’s the real tragedy: losing good people to bad process.

Real Talk: The Best Teams Flex

There’s no one right way to do this. The smartest teams I’ve seen (and the happiest ones) treat incident response like a toolset, not a lawbook.

At one company I worked with, they had a rigid 20-step IC procedure. Updates every 15 minutes, escalation trees, you name it. It worked great—for major SEV-1 incidents. But for everyday bumps? It was like hosting a five-course meal every time someone wanted a snack.

So they shifted gears. For SEV-1 incidents, they kept the full IC structure. For SEV-2s, they relaxed the process—fewer updates, flexible roles. For SEV-3s? No formal IC at all. Just smart people fixing things, fast.

The difference was night and day. Incidents got resolved faster. Engineers smiled more (and passive-aggressed less). Leadership still got the info they needed without drowning in bureaucratic sludge.

What Incident Commanders Actually Need to Shine

Good ICs aren’t the loudest voice in the room. They’re the calmest.

They need trust—both given and received. They need clear authority, so they’re not second-guessing every decision. They need support, especially during marathon incidents that stretch on for hours. They need backup ICs to step in when they need a break (because, let’s be honest, nobody’s at their best after eight hours of staring at Grafana dashboards).

And they need real debriefs—where the goal is learning, not blaming.

Above all, they need the freedom to think and adapt, not just follow a laminated checklist like a robot on autopilot.

When It’s All Said and Done

Here’s the thing: incident commanders aren’t the bad guys. Bad process is.

Incidents are messy, human, emotional. That’s the reality. Structure helps, but only when it supports good instincts, not when it replaces them.

The best ICs don’t just bark orders. They guide, they listen, and they help their team bring their best under pressure. They know when to stick to the script—and when to tear it up.

Because when the alarms are blaring and systems are crashing, it’s not the checklist that saves you.

It’s the people standing next to you, thinking fast, helping each other, and getting the job done.

And if you can throw in a half-decent joke along the way? Even better.