Not everyone is cut out to be a security leader. In last month’s column, I spoke to risk executives who stepped into the wingtips of predecessors who were industry legends, wildly popular and charismatic, or otherwise considered virtually irreplaceable. This month’s column tackles the opposite challenge: slotting into a role where the previous occupant underperformed, underwhelmed, or even undermined the department.

When you inherit a struggling security function, you don’t hear references to your predecessor as “the myth, the man, the legend.” It’s closer to “the myth, the man, the lessened.”

Philip Farina describes walking into a global hospitality security role and conducting an instant assessment. What he found was a jerry-built function, with policies copied from public websites, little accountability, and no meaningful follow-through.

“For the life of me,” he says, “I couldn’t figure out what they actually did.”

More damaging than weak documentation was the erosion of confidence. Business units did not view security as strategic. Some viewed it as performative, or even irrelevant.

Before he could build anything new, Farina had to repair trust that had already been spent.

In his case, the shoes he had to fill offered little support. They looked shabby, to boot. He had to address mission, performance and perception.

“The hardest part was not fixing processes,” Farina says. “It was changing how people felt about the department. There was a bad taste. And that’s harder to clean up than a broken SOP.”

The reset began with relationship building, breaking down silos, and talking to property leaders, employees, and end users. He also set out to establish visibility and accountability.

“You can become the new legendary person,” he says, “if they trust you.”

Farina focused heavily on developing his team: one-on-one coaching, certifications, and professional growth. He set aside funds so staff could strengthen their own credentials. That investment translated into confidence, which translated into credibility.

Paul Sarnese encountered a different version of dysfunction when he took over security at a Philadelphia hospital.

His predecessor, a former police officer who had been in the role for two decades, was coasting toward retirement. The department had little visibility. Incident response times exceeded ten minutes. The boss sidestepped or minimized concerns and criticisms. To his credit, that boss steadfastly supported his officers and shielded them from criticism. To his discredit, he dismissed the real issues underlying that criticism.

He was affable and well liked. He was also ineffective.

Sarnese spent his first 90 days listening. When he met with ER and other hospital leaders and asked who the security superstars were, no one could name a single one.

He categorized problems into three buckets of opportunity — quick fixes, mid-term improvements, and larger structural corrections — starting with quick wins to build credibility with staff and the broader hospital community. With buy-in from his boss, the Chief Human Resources Officer, he secured funds to replace broken radios and process long-ignored uniform reimbursements. Guards had been paying out of pocket for corporate expenses, eroding morale.

The deeper issue was cultural. The department did not think highly of itself. Structured like a police agency, complete with ranks and titles, it lacked the commensurate authority, credibility, and performance expectations.

Over time, Sarnese set clearer standards and higher expectations, allowing incumbents to decide whether they would adapt. Within a year, most of the supervisory team had turned over, and performance improved significantly.

Critically, he avoided publicly criticizing his predecessor.

“You have to be respectful,” Sarnese says, “and honor the work that came before you.”

When asked why his predecessor hadn’t implemented certain changes, he responded strategically and diplomatically: “That was then. This is now. I’m looking at it through my lens and my experience. Times have changed and needs are different.”

He also noted that his predecessor operated under different hospital leadership, a not insignificant factor.

Replacing a weak leader is one thing. Being hired by one is another.

Early in his career, Kameron Persaud found himself in that situation at a major airport. Fresh out of graduate school, he reported to a senior public safety executive who made his cynicism clear from day one.

“Who hired this kid?” the administrator asked within earshot. The nickname “The Kid” stuck.

Introductory training? Nope. On-the-job development? Forget about it. Professional growth? Not a chance. When Persaud asked whether his boss had reviewed his resume, he was told, “I’m not interested. Just do what I ask.”

Unlike Sarnese, Persaud could not fix the culture. He lacked the authority and influence.

So, he looked sideways instead of upward.

He pursued his own professional development, built relationships with peers, and identified advocates elsewhere in the organization.

Today, as a safety and security manager at Inland Empire Health Plan in California, he leads differently because of that experience. He asks team members about their aspirations. He invests in certifications and leadership development. He actively seeks to identify and prepare his successor.

Sometimes the clearest leadership lessons come from the example you do not want to follow. In these scenarios, successors did not jump out of the gate with sweeping transformation plans. They listened, assessed and quietly established standards. And they preserved the dignity of the previous administration while rebuilding the credibility of their own.

Not every leader inherits polished wingtips. Some inherit scuffed leather and loose stitching. In the end, they still have to fit the road ahead.