Should I Stay (Awake) Or Should I Go Now?

One of the first moves in the Heathrow power failure crisis was CEO Thomas Woldbye’s decision to go to bed before the airport’s critical decision to close its terminals.

Now, I get it. There are crisis management plans that ensure executives are well-rested for long, stressful situations, the decision is likely to get the thumbs up at many crisis exercise days. It’s all about staying sharp when the moment demands it. But in this case, reality seems to have outpaced the plans. It’s one thing to write in a crisis manual that leadership needs to be fresh to handle a crisis, and another to have a live, all-consuming incident unfold during the night with the CEO asleep.

The decision to shut down the airport, while no doubt necessary, occurred at a time when Woldbye was tucked in for the night. Perhaps his presence wouldn’t have changed the decision and it was likely the right call, but the optics weren’t great. It’s hard to imagine the public or the employees feeling reassured when the leader of one of the busiest airports in the world is not available for the biggest decision.

We’ve all survived on little to no sleep in emergencies, driven by adrenaline and necessity and the public expects their leaders to lead—especially in moments of crisis. Woldbye’s late arrival to the office at 9am, long after the storm had passed, only added to the perception that the crisis playbook took precedence over practical, real-time leadership.

The second textbook misstep came when Woldbye appeared on BBC Radio 4’s Today programme. Appearing was not the issue, although his performance there was a mixed bag, but he stumbled on the most critical and obvious question: “Will you, as CEO, resign?”

Crisis management best practice is for leaders to remain visible during a major incident, and Woldbye did just that by addressing the media. But there’s a real danger in giving a no comment answer to the resignation question, a question you can almost guarantee will come up in any crisis.

His response was “no comment,” which some might say is a textbook way to close down the question. But in practice, “no comment” rarely works without context. Without a compelling reason for the silence, it leaves too much room for interpretation.

Earlier, Woldbye had deflected questions about wider resignations by focusing on solving the immediate problem, which was a reasonable approach. But when asked directly about his own future, shutting down the conversation without explanation became a liability. A straightforward, transparent answer—even repeating the focusing answer—would have worked, but the “no comment” approach just felt evasive. In times of crisis, a leader’s reluctance to engage openly often raises more questions than it answers.

Looking ahead, there’s another angle to this story that is likely to get plenty of attention: the fate of Heathrow’s executive bonuses. This will undoubtedly come under scrutiny as the dust settles. Many will be watching closely to see whether Woldbye and his team will take their bonuses this year. After all, when an airport of Heathrow’s size and reputation stumbles under pressure, it’s hard to justify performance-based rewards.

My advice? They might want to sleep on it.