How Pixar learnt the cost of burnout

He swung the car into the Pixar parking lot and slowed to a crawl. A glance at his watch through half-closed eyes confirmed what he already knew: it’d barely been six hours since he left and he was already back. He took a final, air-conditioned breath and stepped out into the fierce summer sun that scorched the tarmac between car and office.

Shoulders slumped and beads of sweat already forming, he flicked the car door closed without turning around.

Maybe if he’d glanced behind him even for a split-second, he’d have noticed his baby, sound asleep in the back. Maybe if he wasn’t so damn tired, he’d have caught his mistake, picked the infant up and cursed himself for being so damn stupid. Maybe.

Instead, he trudged inside and navigated the quickest route to the coffee machine, leaving the child fast asleep in a car that was getting hotter and hotter as the sun rose higher and higher. Dehydration and heat exhaustion would come quickly.

He quietly found his desk and did the same thing he and his Pixar colleagues had been doing around the clock, seven days a week, for the past six months: he got to work.

He was a filmmaker, an artist. But his latest project was a disaster. Far from the runaway success it would eventually become, the early days of Toy Story 2 were bleak. The narrative had no tension, no humour. It felt hollow and predictable.

With a deadline looming, they could have given in and tidied it up for release, knowing it fell well short of their standards. After all, it would likely still be a financial success, riding on the coattails of the original Toy Story. But that’s not the way Pixar did things. They decided to rewrite it. With time against them, the only way it would be completed in time was if everyone worked themselves to the bone. So work they did.

The intensity took a toll. Heightened emotions. Strained relationships. Even carpal tunnel syndrome. Now it seemed burnout would lead to tragedy as the artist’s car became a deadly hotbox.

His phone rang, snapping him out of his daze.

‘How did nursery drop off go?’ asked his wife.

His blood ran cold.

He turned and ran.

He ripped at the door handle of the car, which was hot to the touch. A wall of heat hit him as he reached inside, desperately fumbling with the straps before lifting his baby out and cradling it close to his chest.

The baby was beetroot red and drenched in sweat and completely limp. It wasn’t responding.

Breathless and shivering despite the heat, the artist grabbed a water bottle and poured it on the child, praying everything would be ok as the liquid sloshed down the infant’s face.

An eternity passed. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

The baby gasped.

A panicked trip to the hospital confirmed the infant was dehydrated but otherwise healthy, and would suffer no long-term damage.

It was a lucky escape; an almost-tragedy that shook the company to its core. Writing about the incident, their co-founder Ed Catmull said ‘Asking this much of our people, even when they wanted to give it, was not acceptable’.

Companies like Pixar push boundaries, which makes them attractive to people who push boundaries. These people have extreme character traits which puts them at higher risk of burnout than the average worker. The dogged determination that drives them to push harder covers their ears when their body is screaming at them to slow down.

Leaders must decide when to ask more of their teams and when to hold them back, even when they want to give more. Getting the balance wrong has consequences.

Sometimes you’ll need to push hard to meet a deadline. If you’ve created an environment of ambitious people who believe in the company’s mission, they’ll likely cherish the challenge. But you can’t push forever.

In Formula 1, drivers routinely reach speeds of more than 200 mph, but on Monaco’s Fairmont Hairpin corner, drivers must slow to 30 mph or risk smashing into the barriers.

Fast. Then slow. Fast. Then slow. That’s how you race.

The end of a product cycle or project offers the perfect time to ease off the pedal. After a demanding period, schedule a lighter load: have devs address non-urgent bugs, designers revisit brand guidelines, marketers finish the blog posts that have been sitting in their drafts for months.

Hard work. Easier work. Hard work. Easier work. That’s how you build a company.

Leaders must also walk the talk. Telling your team to stop the late night coding sessions when you’re slouched over your desk at 2am, rattling off emails as you pound a third Mountain Dew won’t cut it. Actions speak louder than words.

Perhaps the best thing a leader can do is create an environment where everyone genuinely cares about the people they work with. Slogging it out is easier to take when your team is in your corner, rooting for you to succeed and picking you up when you fall. Fight the urge to go straight to gifts or financial rewards (though definitely do this too), and instead think how you can build trust by being more thoughtful in your daily interactions and really get to know each other. When you understand everyone’s rhythms and moods, you’ll be more likely to spot when something’s off and take the steps needed to get back on track.

Pixar pushed too hard for too long and it almost cost them dearly. If you’ve had your foot on the accelerator for a while, it’s time to pump the brakes. Treat burnout with the importance it deserves or you, or your team will pay the price.

If there’s anyone you think would like to read today’s edition, please forward it or share it on social media.

If you’d like to talk about burnout or get advice on another issue affecting you or your startup, you can book here.

Speak soon,

Nelson