The bucket truck had been running strong for two years. No issues. Passed inspections. The hydraulics were smooth, the boom responded clean, and the crew trusted it completely. It was the truck everyone wanted to drive.

We staged it for a transmission tower reinsulate. Routine work. The operator positioned the truck and set the outriggers. The boom was extended and he began to ascend in the bucket.

About halfway up, a hydraulic line in the boom circuit failed, causing a sudden loss of pressure.

The boom lurched and dropped several feet before the load‑holding components stopped further descent. The jolt almost threw him from the bucket; he managed to stay inside, but his hard hat came off and unsecured tools were flung onto the structure below. Shaken and unsteady, he remained in the bucket until ground personnel used the emergency controls to lower the boom and bring him down.

We shut down the site. Called it in. Pulled the maintenance logs. That's when we found it.

The hydraulic line had been flagged for replacement during the last inspection. It passed the minimum threshold, but the tech noted it was showing wear and recommended a swap before the next cycle. The note made it into the file. It didn't make it onto anyone's radar.

"It's been fine," someone said during the debrief. "We've been running it hard for months with no problems."

That line right there. That's where complacency lived.

We believed the pattern. We ignored the warning.

The truck had been reliable, so we assumed it would stay reliable. The line had held before, so we assumed it would hold again. The inspection passed, so we assumed we were good. We stopped looking for what might change because nothing had changed yet.

Complacency doesn't show up waving red flags. It sneaks in wearing yesterday's success. It sounds like, "This truck worked fine yesterday," or "We've done it this way for years." Those words don't sound dangerous. But they are. That's complacency talking.

The moment we stop questioning, we start assuming. And assumptions don't care how experienced you are. They'll take anyone down if you give them the chance.

Challenge the pattern. Question what's working, not just what's broken.

Success makes you comfortable. Comfort turns into routine. Routine hides the risks you used to see. The best crews don't just react to failures. They anticipate them. They look at what's been working and ask, "How long until it doesn't?"

Here's the discipline that keeps you ahead of complacency: Treat every repeated task like it's the first time you're doing it.

Not because you don't know what you're doing. Because conditions don't stay static just because your confidence does. Equipment ages. Weather shifts. People get tired. The job that was safe yesterday might not be safe today, and the only way to know is to check.

You don't need to reinvent the process every time. You just need to verify the assumptions you're building on. That hydraulic line didn't fail because of neglect. It failed because we trusted a pattern instead of checking the condition.

Last month, a foreman I know walked the same job site he'd walked every day for eight months. He stopped mid-stride and asked his crew, "When did we start stacking materials there?" Nobody knew. It had been there for weeks. Everyone had walked past it. Nobody questioned it because it had become part of the landscape.

That's the moment he realized routines make you blind. He changed his site walk. Now he starts every shift asking, "What's different today?" Not because he doesn't trust his crew. Because he doesn't trust comfort.

Use this before any repeated task, routine maintenance, or "we've done this a hundred times" job.

Before you start, run through these five questions:

1. What's different today?
Weather? Crew composition? Equipment condition? Time pressure? Don't assume today matches yesterday just because the task is the same. Winter cold affects hydraulics, batteries, and material performance differently than summer heat. Check the variables.

2. What am I assuming is still true?
"The equipment is good." "The site is clear." "The crew knows the plan." Are those assumptions, or did you verify them this morning? Assumptions age faster than you think.

3. What's the consequence if I'm wrong?
If your assumption breaks, what fails? A timeline? A piece of equipment? A life? Match your attention to the risk. Small stakes, quick check. High stakes, thorough check. No exceptions.

4. When did I last check the details?
Inspections don't last forever. Neither do conditions. If you haven't checked it recently, you're guessing. And guessing gets people hurt. That hydraulic line note was two months old. Two months is a lifetime for a wearing component.

5. Am I following procedure or am I following habit?
Procedure adapts to risk. Habit adapts to comfort. Know which one you're running on. If you can't remember the last time you read the procedure, you're probably running on habit.

How to use this:

Copy this. Print it. Tape it inside your truck door. Make it part of your pre-shift routine. Run through it before you touch familiar work. It takes 90 seconds.

The goal isn't to slow down your work. The goal is to make sure your work is based on reality, not memory.

Leaders, ask yourself: Are you modeling the check, or are you the one saying, "We've done this before"? Your crew mirrors your discipline. If you skip the pre-task verification because the job feels routine, they will too. And when inspection notes get filed but not acted on, what are you teaching your team about the value of those inspections? Complacency grows in the gap between documentation and action. If your process catches the problem but doesn't fix it, your process is theater.

Here's the deeper question: Are your schedules, incentives, and metrics making it easy or hard for people to slow down when something doesn't feel right? When production targets conflict with verification time, which one wins? Your frontline supervisors are making that call every day based on what you emphasize in meetings, what you celebrate in emails, and what you tolerate when deadlines approach. If you want people to challenge assumptions, you have to build a system where doing so doesn't cost them. Complacency doesn't grow in a vacuum. It grows in cultures where "we've always done it this way" gets tolerated as an answer.

Tomorrow, before you touch the same job you've done a dozen times, stop and ask yourself one question:

"What am I assuming is still true?"

Then verify it. Check the condition. Confirm the detail. Challenge the comfort.

Because complacency doesn't announce itself. It just quietly makes itself at home in your routine until something breaks.

The hydraulic line gave us a warning. We just didn't listen until it became a lesson.

Don't let yesterday's success write tomorrow's incident report.

Want to build a culture where every worker goes home safe?
Let's talk. Reply to this email, or visit www.leadingsafelineworkers.com to book a keynote, training, or consultation. Because safety isn't a program. It's a leadership decision.

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Forward this to a foreman, a safety manager, or a crew member who's trying to lead better. Let's build this together.

Until next time,

Lito Wilkins