We Left the Lights On: Opportunity or Opportunity Cost?

I've mentioned it before, but when I returned from my last deployment (Spring 2013) I was thrust back into the very depot world that I tried to escape.

No amount of bellyaching or applications to overseas assignments or networking or incessant calls to AFPC could save me.

Notes:  This goes back to my "document everything" mantra; regardless, AFPC was ZERO help...shocking, I know.

Notes:  These are from before I left.  I love my take on the situation and my desire for an "exit strategy" (as if the depot was akin to Iraq) and my telling the bosses to "phone a friend".  Jesus, I was desperate!

So I pouted and moped around during my two weeks of reconstitution.  NOTE:  My attitude was further diminished throughout these 14 days as I tried frantically to complete my master's degree capstone before heading back to the gulag.  Um, I mean depot.

When the time came to return I did my best to stay positive and try to figure out what I was supposed to be doing since when I left I still had three-ish jobs and no real clue as to what depot maintenance was really all about.

Notes:  Ranging from my time as the Flight Test Commander, the assistant Deputy Group Commander, and the long-promised gig in F-22s

Looking back, I have to laugh at the heading to my notes:  Notes from the Underground.

I'll just get it out of the way now.  I am a nerd.  And I love Dostoyevsky.  Love.  Seriously.

His work, Notes from the Underground, is a series of ramblings from a retired civil servant who is both depressed and cynical with the current state of affairs in Russia.  The man is unknown to the reader and certainly mad or on the verge of madness.

I find this funny in retrospect because I suppose I felt the same way.  Mad.

I couldn't believe half the crap I saw and, inevitably, facilitated in the depot.  I mean it wasn't all bad, but there were certainly times when I just shook with anger or fear or both.

Notes:  Concerns from the Underground

It took me another nine months of complaining to land an interview with the group commander on the active-duty side of the base, which is really sick.  I was begging to work 12- to 14-hour shifts.  Mad, I say.  MAD!

I eventually escaped, but the damage was done.  I was done.  I dropped my paperwork and decided to choose myself.  Mad?  Not anymore.

In hindsight, maybe I should've titled my notes after Solzhenitsyn's One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, which charts a single 24-hours in a gulag work camp.

Stay with me here.

I'm not trying to be cynical or overly dramatic, but Jeff Bridges ("The Dude") is right on when he quotes Solzhenitsyn and explains that we need both dark and light and perfection and imperfection to experience the fullness of life.

I now realize that I needed this experience.  I needed the dark (of the depot) to see the light (on the outside of the Air Force).  I needed some finches so I could be a swan...

...or a peacock.

But seriously, the above sums up my life right now.

At the end of the day I am thankful and grateful for my final depot experience.  Not only were the F-22 guys the best group of civilians in the entire Air Force Materiel Command, but they allowed me to see that being there wasn't at the cost of anything else, but for everything else.

Middle Management & AOCs

Over the course of the last month I have had two distinct conversations with two very different people about the same topic:  AOCs.

For those not well-versed in United States Air Force Academy lingo, an AOC (Air Officer Commanding) is usually a major in charge of a squadron of about 100 cadets.  The role is designed to help guide and mentor officer candidates during their four years at school as well as prepare them to become leaders in the "real Air Force".

Now I think the primary reason that I had these two discussions is that a lot of grads either had great AOCs or terrible AOCs.  I personally had a terrible experience since my particular AOC saw the position as a stepping stone toward bigger and better management positions.  He also seemed to take his responsibilities lightly and operate within a weird set of double standards.

Sadly, when I queried "AOC USAFA" on Google the following video appeared:

Video clip:  Seriously?!

You don't have to watch the whole thing, but there is a telling segment right around the two-minute mark where the interviewee explains that he saw the AOC position as a means to get a master's degree.  I mean never mind the cadets or anything.

Looking back, this would be a trend that I would encounter with most mid-level managers during my active duty career.  Not all, but most majors and captains seem to forget the importance of their current job because they have their eye on the prize (i.e. school slots, commander jobs, etc.).

I was reminded of these conversations yesterday when I saw an article re-posted by my sister that discussed force shaping in the Army.  The piece obviously wanted to bring to light the fact that folks are being kicked out of the military while deployed, but I think the bigger issue is the focus on quantity over quality.

The United States and DOD have experienced countless personnel surges and drawdowns since WWII.  Each time we get too big we cut our most precious resource (human capital) to the bone.  The decisions seem to hinge almost entirely on sheer numbers and dollar figures rather than the type of leader in question as well as the investment made in that individual to date.  My overarching fear, however, is that we have gone a little too far during this particular set of cuts due to an amplified focus on the economy.

DOD:  Between a rock and a hard place?

Most services offered a severance package or payout to junior military officers with, what I believe to be, the unintended consequence of forcing out the best and brightest leaders.  I truly think that those who no longer felt appreciated by their bosses and needed more intrinsic incentives to stick around made the easy choice and left.  Thus, the hollowing of the force is taking place in preciously the area that needs leadership the most:  the middle.

While HBR frequently vacillates on whether middle management is obsolete or crucial, I found their latest research rather compelling.  Specifically, the writers argue that those caught between higher-ups and employees are forced to find a creative way to solve problems, which makes them critical to both the top and bottom line.  This squeeze produces an experienced manager that is often taken for granted or not allowed to continue in this same line of work.

Hmmm, sounds familiar.

I wish I could end this post on a more positive note, but I think that the DOD is on the cusp of a very long and sustained middle management drought that will require years to reverse.

But hopefully I am wrong.

Better

I feel better.

Not in a permanent way, but I think this whole pseudo-sabbatical is going to do me good in the long run.  I say pseudo, but maybe sham or quasi or artificial or fake or bogus is a better qualifier for the past 58 days.

Photo:  Maybe I just needed a trial run so that I can actually enjoy my next semi-retirement!

I mean I really didn't go off the deep end and backpack Europe or take a trip to Antarctica or ride the Vodka Train (or any train with alcohol) or visit Ukraine or anything I thought I wanted to do.  

I did learn that I like a certain amount of financial stability and knowing that my paychecks were going to stop on 1 September really prevented me from going crazy.  And this is coming from someone who doesn't have to worry about money (i.e. no sick kids or egregious debts or loans), but it's funny how it just creeps into every decision you have to make and I mean every decision.  

I guess I did the best I could given all the change and instability I encountered over the past six months, but now with less than 30 days until I potentially start another career I can't help but realize I kind of worried through the last two months.

Don't get me wrong.  I still had a great time traveling to Minnesota and Las Vegas and catching up with friends and making new friends and hiking the national parks and writing and reading and researching and moving to a different state.  Everything was just punctuated with anxiety and worry over interviews and job applications.

And although I feel better and believe that at least 50% of each day is good, I still want to get better.  I certainly don't want to continue to blame the past for my attitude problems or my inability to move forward or let go and have fun during the next month and beyond.  We all know those people that blame someone or something for their unhappiness and their resentment builds up until they condemn themselves to misery for ever and ever.  And that was certainly me.  Trapped.

Screenshot:  Extreme example of blaming issues on the past, but you get my point.

I guess I want to be done blaming the Air Force and my job for my misery and my failures and shortcomings.  It's funny, but my former dreams and I just kind of grew apart and I see that as okay now and that I didn't quit.  I understand it for what it was.

Even funnier is I feel so old talking to folks around here and telling them my stories.  Some say I am an old soul or that I have already lived a full life, but it feels just the opposite to me.

Article:  I can totally relate LOL

So I guess going forward I want to be a little less reflective and even less introspective in order to start figuring out what I really want to get out of this break.  I'll keep the stories flowing, but I want to lose the caustic edge and bitterness in favor of some more humor.

Cheers!

We Left the Lights On: NAMBLA

Just one quick story to lighten the mood of this rather weepy blog.

So there I was harassing the production supervisor out on the flight line trying to track down COPIOUS amounts of information for the evening meeting.  In hindsight, this entire sequence of events, repeated daily, is laughable because regardless of how much information I had going into the briefing, I was going to get beat up and screamed at and chewed out.  Uh, the waste!

But there I was.  Interrupting operations.  Asking questions.  Being driven to problematic aircraft.  Bothering technicians.

I still have no idea why or how the supervisors were all so patient with me and my little clipboard, but they were.  Bless their hearts.

Only one time did they attempt to play a joke on me and I think they only stopped it from going forward because I took the bait hook, line, and sinker.

Photo:  Yes, yes I did.

One evening, during my usual Q&A in the flight line truck, the production supervisor explains that we had a very, very bad day.  

"We had some issues," he says,"and we're out a NAMBLA adaptor."

Oh Christ, I think.  Then I ask the inevitable, "What's a NAMBLA adaptor?  Can we go look at one on an aircraft?"

He goes on, "It's a key component and probably won't come in for weeks.  We might even lose the alert commitment again."

OH MAN AND I HAVE TO BRIEF THIS!?  OH SHIT...OH SHIT...OH SHIT!!!

But just before I hit full-on panic mode he starts laughing and explains that NAMBLA stands for North American Man-Boy Love Association.  It's all a joke.

Video clip:  NAMBLA

While I should've taken the following bet to use "NAMBLA adaptor" during the brief (for a $20 payout), I was just thankful that I had good leaders around me willing to make jokes (potentially at my expense) in order to help me see the bigger picture.

Cheers!

(Before) We Left the Lights On

"VEGASSS!"

"VEGASSS!"

"VEGASSS!"

Oh, how lucky was I to get to go TDY to Nellis AFB in Las Vegas, NV only two months after The Hangover hit theaters in the United Kingdom?

Video clip:  Oh, Alan...

So lucky.

Lucky enough to listen to Alan quotes all the way from RAF Lakenheath to London's Heathrow Airport (2.5 hours).  

Lucky enough to have United Airlines play The Hangover on the loop from London to Chicago (8 hours).  

Lucky enough not to lose anyone in Chicago since everyone needed a smoke break and, seeing as how no one could stand each other at that point, scattered like cats throughout one of the largest and most confusing airports in the United States (1 hour).  

Lucky enough not to have any homicides on the final leg from Chicago to Las Vegas since no one wanted to be crammed into tiny seats for another flight (3.5 hours).  

Lucky enough to have a Chief ready and waiting for us at the airport with a bus to the base (0.5 hours).

Then my luck ran out...

See, I didn't hate Captain Cockeyes prior to my transcontinental pilgrimage to the holy land of Las Vegas.  I actually tried to learn from him during the exercise we held just prior to our TDY (because who doesn't exercise immediately before going TDY?!).  But there were warning signs.  And no matter how hard we tried to ignore them, the writing was on the wall.

For example, his insistence on critiquing the Chief's (rock-solid) plan.  Or his desire to travel free of the main body.  His ability to steer clear of all responsibility upon arrival (several days later than the rest of us I might add).  

And then there was his general disposition and mannerisms:  Mouth breathing.  Laughy.  Head bobbing (more on that in Afghan).  Pirouettes.  Parade rest walking.  Incessantly finger-combing his hair.  Living out of his car.  Jealousy.  Lip smacking.

Video clip:  Seriously...on the flight line where real men work.

I was left even more dumbfounded by his decision-making processes (or lack thereof), his inability to brief without excruciatingly detailed notes, and the way he addressed the guys.  Oh, that last one still kills me.

See, people lose things and break stuff in aircraft maintenance.  It happens and if it's egregious or with ill intent you deal with it through paperwork or pay and grade reductions.  Know, however, that the worst possible thing you can do if you screw up is hide it or create an environment where people feel the need to hide it.  That's when jets crash and people die.  

As with all things, however, there is a balance.  You don't want to hammer folks for certain infractions, since this will result in sweeping things under the rug, which increases the probability of major malfunctions in flight, but you also don't want to let everything slide since you can experience the same outcome (death and damage) through laissez-faire leadership practices.

While this was my going in approach to leadership, and remains the core of my beliefs to this day, I was beside myself when I watched Captain Cockeyes interact with the guys.

There was the instance of him reprimanding an individual in front of his aircraft and aircrew for mistakenly wearing his wedding band.  What chapped my ass was that I had told the individual to remove the jewelry with Captain Cockeyes right next to me and when I turned to walk away (with the situation under control and the individual feeling remorseful) Captain Cockeyes got in his face and let him know just what a failure he was.  Necessary?  I didn't think so.

This situation upset me even more when Captain Cockeyes lost his own wedding band out on the flight line a few days later and drove a temporary stop to operations while we looked for his jewelry.

Just as such minor incidents began to reveal the Captain's management woes we destroyed a multi-million dollar aircraft engine.  This major accident quickly brought to light the Captain's true character and motivations for all to dread heading into a four-month long deployment.

But back to the incident.

Captain Cockeyes put me in charge of the investigation (AKA impoundment) and we discovered that the technician missed some key steps.  Specifically, he failed to remove the protective covers forward of the intake, which was how one hard plastic protector came to destroy the motor.  

The incident occurred at the end of a long shift and the technician didn't have a history of discipline or poor behavior.  In fact, he was in the process of applying for a recruiter job.  He was going to be the face of the USAF.

I pled my case for some leniency, but he still had to pay 1% of the total damage.  Ok, fair.

Then Captain Cockeyes decided to commit the gravest of leadership sins:  punishing the individual in public.

Specifically, he took the opportunity to lay claim that the engine incident caused unnecessary duress to the unit and myself since we had to devote time and energy and effort to the investigation.  He did this during a mass roll call and went on to state the overall damage costs and infractions that led to the incident.

Now I am all for incident and QA cross-tell, but not in a way that creates an environment where individuals are afraid to admit a wrongdoing since they might be chastised in front of their subordinates and peers.

So when the Captain turned the roll call over to me I felt I had no choice but to speak my mind and do exactly what he had done.

I'll never remember my exact words, but I think they suggested that I was fine with the time and effort I devoted to the investigation because no one was killed or maimed or injured.  Something like that anyway.

In hindsight, I now see this incident as the beginning of my undoing.  I broke my own rule and undermined the Captain in public because I felt I had no other recourse.  I continued to be somewhat disrespectful and immature in my dealings with him all while simultaneously building rapport with the guys.

To wit, I do not regret what I said so much as the door that it reopened.  I had always found myself on the edge of being disrespectful (I can think back to a lot of examples in high school) and was even called a rebel without a cause before my Academy days.  This incident simply allowed the monster to come back out just in time for me to encounter Major Tormentor.

That's almost precisely when I realized I was really out of luck.  Like, really.  Thanks Vegas.

NOTE:  Vegas was definitely a defining experience for me in more ways than the aforementioned passage suggests.  I am, in hindsight, irritated with how I handled the situation, but I have to remember that I was still a lieutenant with 14 months of operational experience.  I was very green and very reliant on my instincts, which I still think serve me well.

At the end of the TDY I was pleasantly surprised to receive an amazing gift from the guys that I will forever covet.  The best part of the gift, however, took place on the ride back to lodging when, one-on-one with Captain Cockeyes, he said to me, "I would've gotten something like that, but I had to be the bad guy."

And here I thought I'd been tough on guy.  NOPE!

Forever indebted to the 494th.

I promise...

...that my next post will be much lighter and more humorous than the following excerpt; I just feel the need to tackle some dark uglies right now and I ask that you bear with me for a moment.


Rather, I feel compelled to expound upon some of the internal conflict I continue to feel as a result of my decision to leave the Active Duty Air Force.


The frustration.  The anxiety.  The irritation (with myself and others).  The anger.


A little background:  I just got back from a job interview in Phoenix for a position with a large, successful transportation company.  In between the screenings, however, I was hounded by a recruiter from Colorado with another job opportunity who needed additional information from me.  This all took place while I simultaneously thought about the one job offer (in sales) that I need to decline, the two-day interview I need to prep for next week, and another follow-up discussion I need to have (with a different company) this Friday.  Oh, yea, and I have an interview on Saturday.


I know I have no one to blame except myself and I know these are good problems to have.


Or are they?

Screenshot:  I am troubled by the truth of this quote...

That quote and passage from The Black Swan continues to haunt me despite the fact that I read that book months ago.


The reason being is that I elected to leave the Air Force primarily to escape societal expectations and to forge my own path whether that was through running or traveling or painting or volunteering or fishing or a combination thereof.


All I know now is that I got sucked right back into what I wanted to avoid:  knowing my next 20 years.


My bravery lasted all of 51 days.


Bravo, Kate, bravo.


I guess I can't be too hard on myself though.  I did make the leap right?  I knew I would never love what I was about to do (transition away from being around the guys and breaking shit to sitting behind a desk and worrying about how to get through the next decade as a perpetual kiss ass) and so I jumped.

 

Screenshot:  Cross-blog pollination...or blog cross-pollination...whatever.

But now what?

First, I guess I have to keep fighting the good fight.  I have a lot of folks in my corner that are going to keep me straight and tell me not to get a job right away (HT to my dad's timely emails today amidst the panic).

Second, I think I keep writing.  Lame, I know, but it's like Kamal Ravikant recently said, 

"I understand now why the great [writers] become alcoholics and kill themselves 'cause you have to go into your mind and into your heart and emotions and pull out – go through everything, stuff that most of us spend our lives avoiding.  So you have to write – for a great writer, to be a great writer or artist, you really have to go into yourself.  And we spend our entire lives running away from ourselves.  You have to go through the gunk."

Gunk exploration and dissection sound about right (without the whole suicide thing in Ketchum, ID or ripping off my ear or something).

Oh, this is probably a good place to state the obvious:  I AM NOT SUICIDAL!  KATE LOVES KATE TOO MUCH TO HURT KATE.

 

Video clip:  HT to Bob Ryan during the T.O. suicide scare of 2006.

Sticking with the literary vein though, maybe those artists and writers were on to something.

Screenshot:  We'll go with Melville's take on life (versus Hemingway's) for the moment.

All I can hope for is that this tortured self-exploration results in some sort of coherent career strategy and the appropriate destruction of a life half-lived.

We Left the Lights On: Well, on paper...

So how did we, as a unit, inherit Captain Cockeyes?

Video clip:  I wasn't talking to you Deeds, I was talking to that squirrel (mountain goat) over there!

I blamed at lot of it on the internal promotion system of large institutions in my last post since it is far easier to pass someone up the chain rather than deal with them outright (even though that's the most humane thing to do for both the individual as well as the organization).  We allow bad leaders to remain in positions of authority and jeopardize the careers of those in their charge because we fear conflict.  We avoid sitting someone down and saying, "You just don't have what it takes and probably never will, so try to find something more suitable to your skillset."

Photo:  This works too...

Now there is a kindler, gentler way to say all that, but at the end of the day we just need to stop wasting everyone's time and energy and fire the ineffective (and dangerous) leader.  Kick him out!  You're doing him a favor and letting everyone move on with their lives (HT to Jim Collins)!

Ok, now that we got the high-level reasons out of the way, how did we literally get stuck with someone so oblivious to his own behavior that he was shitcanned from his job in Afghanistan and sent all the way back to England on the taxpayer dime?

Simple:  

Four months before our deployment there was a series of opaque incidents that forced the (unfair and untimely) removal of our current supervisor, Captain Awesome.  Not only did Captain Awesome have a wealth of experience and knowledge, but he actually mentored me on how to be a decent, respectable maintenance officer.  

Like woah!  I know?  Crazy!  Right?

All I know is that there was a perception held by one individual, LtCol Tri-too-hard, that there was something going on between Captain Awesome (male, married) and another Captain (female, single).  All unfounded, but Captain Awesome still had to leave the unit and go to timeout (the Wing AFSO21 office, because that's how much we value innovation in the Air Force...it's the support section for officers AKA the innovation ghetto).

This left us without an officer for both pre-deployment training in Las Vegas as well as the actual deployment across EMEA to Afghanistan.  LtCol Tri-too-hard and his flunkies, in their infinite wisdom, did not see this as a problem and decided to replace Captain Awesome with the most "qualified" individual for the task:  Captain Cockeyes.

Now I bring attention to the word qualified since it is a relative term.  The Air Force, like most bureaucratic corporations, largely applies this word to someone based on their records.  And so we come to live and die by the phrase, "Well, on paper he looked like the best (whatever) for the (very important, no fail mission)."

In the case of Captain Cockeyes, it was his graduation from AMMOS that sealed the deal.

NOTE:  I will never understand why we, as an institution, value this school so much since the only thing it seems to produce is a bunch of douche bags who only went there to further their own careers and never share any of the secret-squirrel knowledge they learned over the course of eight months.  My apologies to the two officers who don't fit this assessment, but you are the .0001%.  Sorry.

So just as perceptions got us into this mess (i.e. no leadership just weeks before a transcontinental pre-deployment to Vegas), perceptions of Captain Cockeye's competence got us mired even deeper into an already irreversible death spiral just before a real-world deployment.

Video clip:  SMH...

So what exactly happened in Vegas?  

Well my friends, you're in luck, because what happened in Vegas didn't exactly stay there...

Video clip:  ...herpes and bad leadership.

We Left the Lights On: The Pistol

When you deploy to the desert, you get issued a gun.  For better or for worse, you are essentially married to this thing.  You must carry your weapon at all times and you must take it wherever you go.  This includes the chow hall and the bathroom.  The only exception is when President Obama visits and makes everyone either leave their guns outside the dining facility or vacate the premise.  Needless to say, I left.

Carrying a gun was a basic requirement and took place regardless of your specialty or job.  You simply had to take care of the weapon whether you felt comfortable around guns or not.

This is not a bad idea in theory considering that the only thing between you and the enemy is a chain-link fence and a poop ditch.  And that's if you're lucky.

Photo:  Of course the Afghans bedazzled their poop trucks...

But that's the problem with theory:  reality.  Because in reality we had a bunch of gun-toking maintainers who would consistently leave their weapons on buses (driven by third country nationals) or in the chow halls (manned by third country nationals) or in the bathroom (serviced by third country nationals).  Now third country nationals are, in theory, vetted and considered safe to work on the installation.  That doesn't mean they won't take the opportunity to kill you if they find a gun by the urinal though.

So, unfortunately, we had to issue paperwork to folks who left guns at bus stops or around the compound.  I didn't like doing it, but the alternative (being dead) was much worse.

Then one evening when I stumbled into work (my hours were roughly 1600 until 0400) I found my immediate supervisor (who we'll affectionally call Captain Cockeyes) already gone.  No turnover.  No heads-up as to what had happened that day.  Just gone.

Except for one thing:  his gun.

Photo:  Seriously?!

Now he had left like this before and forgotten his coat (which I filled with rocks) and his notes (which I shredded) and his care packages (which I distributed to the guys) and his identification card (which I ransomed for food), but never his gun.

Before you judge me, just know there was a long/short (or perhaps a brief/intense) history with this individual that I will dive into later; right or wrong I felt justified in my previous behaviors.  This time, however, I had hit the jackpot.

Video clip:  I couldn't have set my situation up any better than these guys!

I debated and discussed the potential courses of action with my Senior and Chief, because no matter the situation they have the experience and have seen it all (both maintenance and mischief).

They persuaded me not to rat him out to the commander (Major Tormentor) or the operations officer (Major Panties), but instead helped me hatch a plan to hide the gun in the ceiling tiles and draw a map.

I just want to take a moment to let everyone know that I now realize this entire sequence of events was a horrible idea and I take full responsibility for being a dumb and immature lieutenant.

So at the end of my shift I hid the gun and told one of my other supervisors where the gun was (four tiles west and three tiles north) so that Captain Cockeyes would learn his lesson, but not doom everyone to a day of his unreasonable mood swings.

Despite my best intentions, he ended up blowing his stack and acting even more irrationally than he normally did throughout that day.

So when turnover came around you bet your bippy he was there.  But he didn't lay into me, he laid into my Senior.

He took this grown man away from the turnover meeting (which took place near the turd vaporization trucks) and proceeded to yell at him.  When I approached to take the blame he told me to leave and continued to berate the Senior.

To this day I still feel awful that I did not more forcefully say it was me.  Fortunately, I didn't lose any friends over the incident and Captain Cockeyes proceeded to screw up even more monumentally than anyone could have ever predicted, which left me feeling even more justified for acting like an immature brat.

So at the end of the day I made out pretty okay and learned a really important lesson:  sheer incompetence gets you promoted.

Oh sorry, did I forget to mention that Major Cockeyes is currently a squadron commander?

Well I don't want to get too ahead of myself; more stories are in order to prove the above point.

Captain Sobel

Before I really start in on blasting the bad leaders I had the opportunity to serve with during the last six years, I want to be the first to admit that I am in no way the ideal leader or even a very good leader-manager.  But I am self-critical and I want to get better and I think that's a pretty good place to start.

When I decided to attend the Air Force Academy I thought I was already a pretty good leader.  Not that a 17-year-old high school punk has any idea what leadership is, but I had always been bossy (just ask my little brother) and I was the president of a couple academic clubs and a team captain since I was a sophomore.  So, yea, I thought I could handle the whole leadership thing at the Academy.

And for the most part I did.  I didn't excel, but I learned that I suck at delegation (still do) and that being real and honest with folks is the best policy.

As graduation approached, however, I was flooded by warnings (both welcome and unwelcome) as to the best approach to being a good maintenance officer.  

Now, this is one of those careers they use to scare you at the Academy.  That and being a cop boss.  Your commanders and instructors say, "Oh, you'll be in charge of 98% of the USAF and you'll have no experience blah blah blah."

I knew they meant this as a good-natured warning and to prevent you from becoming that guy, but all I could think of was Captain Sobel.

Video clip:  What a cadet!

If you are not familiar with Captain Sobel, he is that guy.

He's the guy my dad (a Vietnam Vet) told me not to be.  He would always remind me not to be that West Pointer talking shit or the Grad who knows it all.  And you know what?  Dads are always right.  ALWAYS LISTEN TO YOUR DAD.

More specifically, Captain Sobel was out for himself and tried too hard to follow the textbook.  He was a caricature of leadership.  He would scream and then come up with punishments that made little sense and all while single-handedly destroy morale.  Bottom-line?  He was going to get people killed.  Or the guys were going to kill him (Vietnam).

Even after four years of trying not to be Captain Sobel I still referred to his leadership lessons when I pinned on Captain.  And yes, I was forced to have a promotion party.  I hate that crap.

I was always told that you learn just as much from the bad leaders as you do the good.  Well then let me tell you, I learned a ton.  A TON!

So in conclusion, I am by no means a Lieutenant (to Major) Winters although I wish I was a Nazi-killing badass sometimes.  I doubt I was even entirely effective most of the time.  I just hope I was never a Captain Sobel.

French Toast

I want to revisit Major Mercurial for just a moment.

See, this particular individual was a fantastic leader when he wasn't being an inconsistent, people-pleasing cyborg.

Photo:  I swear that my back-to-back use of Jean-Luc Picard (Patrick Stewart) to represent Major M is entirely by coincidence...

He was, and remains, someone you wanted to like.  During his first command, he maintained that his family was the number one priority and he actually lived by this mantra.  He was also genuinely funny and always seemed to be inviting people to his home for meals.  Major Mercurial was the textbook commander.

Then he wasn't.

When he got his next command something changed.  He seemed worn out.  Tired.  He admitted to sleeping in his office on multiple occasions and even moved a couch into the administrative area so he had somewhere besides his desk to spend the night when he just couldn't make it home.

Then his high-school aged son got a high-school aged girl pregnant and he became a grandfather.

Then he started trying too hard to have the guys like him.

Then he made rank.

A fellow lieutenant and I decided to play a trick on him during his pin-on ceremony as he was once a practical joker himself.  The whole incident took place around a fundraising event that the cops were holding where they would "arrest" a prominent leader on trumped-up charges and then force his unit to pay bail.

The entire premise for the arrest, I now realize, was in bad taste, but we just meant for everyone to have a good laugh.

See, Major Mercurial used to ride motorcycles with a hilarious Chief Master Sergeant that we knew and on one of their rides the Major's bike broke down, which forced him to ride with the Chief.  Thus, the charges we brought him up on (and this is still all under don't ask, don't tell, mind you) were wearing only assless chaps in order to hitch rides with burly men on bikes.  Or something like that.

Either way, the cops arrested him in front of a laughing crowd with fuzzy pink handcuffs.  That's when he lost it.  He became irate at the fact that someone (not sure if he knows it was me and a cohort) had ruined his promotion ceremony.  I felt bad for the cops since they were only trying to raise money and even worse for ruining something that held such importance to the man.

I should've known better since he berated me, on more than one occasion, for trying to get out of my promotions.

"As an officer you only promote so many times...blah blah blah."

Just not my bag.  But again, I should've known better.

Mostly because he lectured me on other things as well.

I'll never forget my first mentoring session.  It took place at the golf course restaurant at like 5 AM and he brought along a career-broadening captain.  This is only to say that RAF Lakenheath had the lowest concentration of core maintenance officers for some weird reason.  More on that later.

Anyways, I had only been there for two months when they asked if I planned to make this a career.

Not knowing that I was supposed to lie I blurted out, over wonderful french toast sticks BTW, "NO!"  I'm pretty sure I laughed after I said that too.  Oops.

Photo:  Makes me think of the french toast song from USAFA...

The look on their faces suggested that instead of having provided a simple, monosyllabic answer to their question, I had instead gone on a long diatribe about carelessly running over babies with my car.  For fun.

Needless to say, the rest of the mentoring session was a mix of "consider not being so forthright" and "you should really want to do this forever until you die of a heart attack at your desk".

Photo:  The french (and bad commanders) can really ruin anything.

I really hate that I am saying this because I really did like the guy.  I still want to be like him on his best of days.  I just saw then and there what the USAF valued more than honesty:  the politician that toed the party line.