The Final Post or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the VSP

PREFACE

I never intended this blog to lie dormant for over a month, but that's what happened.  Naturally.  Organically.  Kind of like a volcano.

I guess I just needed to vent about the Air Force and my Voluntary Separation Pay (VSP) before I turned into Mount St. Helens or worse.

Yea, kinda like that.

In hindsight, I wonder if I subconsciously needed to use a blog as a means of exorcising my demons?  Maybe, but what's it really matter now?  I'm over it.

All I know is that this blog has come to the end of its useful life.  There is nothing left to worry about or cling to here.

Thanks VSP.

But before I go, how about one more rant?

Yea, I know, but I couldn't resist.

Enjoy.

TOTO, I'VE GOT A FEELING WE'RE NOT IN ALABAMA ANYMORE.

I seriously thought I was in Alabama this morning.  Here's why:

(1)  I drove an hour outside the city (Houston versus Montgomery) to the town of Huntsville (TX not AL) where I found really friendly people and an outdoorsy vibe.

(2)  I discovered a local state park with an entire system of dummy-proof running trails.  I know they're dummy proof because I (the dummy) didn't get lost!

(3)  I ran the first five miles in an utter rage over a stupid Facebook post about someone's interpretation of leadership.  This correlates to my anger over Squadron Officer School, which is located in Alabama.

I thought I was getting over the whole Air Force leadership thing, but this individual and his poorly disguised attempts at self-flattery vis-à-vis stating his becoming a commander and taking Air Command and Staff College courses pushed me over the edge.

The nature of the post was a request for assistance with further developing his paper on emotional intelligence (EQ) versus cognitive intelligence (IQ) as the discussion pertains to Air Force leadership.

I nearly had a meltdown.

Video:  Seriously.

Why?  WHY?!  I'll tell you why:  This may be one of the most tired, trite, overdeveloped, misunderstood, and pointless topics in the realm of leadership.  IMHO, of course.

It just seems like the Air Force can't let this idea go.  We talk about it as undergrads, lieutenants, and captains.  But now as commanders?  Really?!  You're a major!  If you think there is some magical recipe for EQ versus IQ (not to mention systems intelligence or spiritual intelligence or a whole host of other measures) in a single human, then there is nothing I can say or do to convince you otherwise.

This is why (and I am borrowing here) I can thank the VSP for allowing me to see that there was at least one event per day that confirmed my decision to leave the Air Force.  This one just had a 26-day delay on it.

But instead of ragging on this guy anymore than I already have, I am going to offer 10 ways to improve the argument.  Take 'em for what they're worth.

(A)  You can't change the amount of EQ or IQ that you have.  Thus, why not offer an argument about neuroscience or brain chemistry and nature versus nurture?  Additionally, why are leaders so bad at realizing their strengths and leveraging those?  We try way too hard to improve our weaknesses, when in fact, many of our perceived shortfalls are hardwired and can be used for good if we only stopped trying to change everything else all the time.

(B)  Figure out how both EQ and IQ types are necessary in taking the Air Force from a vertical organization to a flat organization.  The drawdown is making it more important than ever to operate as teams across different silos.  What's that ratio?

(C)  The Air Force is leaner than ever.  So regardless of your particular EQ and IQ makeup, how do you recommend commanders optimize personnel retention as it relates to the appropriate mix of EQ, IQ, and SQ leaders for the future?  One of the charges of commanding is to grow your replacements, right?

(D)  Discuss how the EQ-heavy/IQ-lite and EQ-lite/IQ-heavy commanders learn to see 'their' troops as customers.  Understanding that the customer isn't always right, couldn't we still argue that no two individuals are the same and therefore require different incentive structures?  HINT:  Not everyone wants to be you or shares your idea of success or your stance on praise.  How do you bridge the EQ-IQ divide?  Why not let the technically savvy remain in those jobs versus forcing them into management roles they despise (i.e. simply using EQ folks to fill EQ roles and using IQ folks to fill IQ roles)?  Duh, right?

(E)  Talk about the unnecessary internal conflict that most leaders feel when trying to shift their particular ratio of EQ and IQ (c.f. A, above).  Again, accept who you are and fashion your management style in this way.  Consistency is king and much better than vacillating between different people's opinions of you.

(F)  There are more than just two categories of people.  How do EQ and IQ leaders see the breakdown of their units?  HINT:  The entire spectrum of commander types would do well to flip the 90-10 convention on its head or create some sort of different breakdown like 10-80-10 (i.e. stop spending 90% of your time on 10% of your bad apples).

(G)  Regardless of your brain chemistry and cognitive intelligence, talk about learning to listen to the guys, learning to learn from the guys, and learning to love the guys (c.f. D, above).  Always know your why.  HINT:  The guys.

(H)  Talk about how both EQ and IQ leaders need to become Picasso (i.e. steal and implement what works instead of always reinventing the wheel).

(I)  Explain how each type should assume the best in their people and stop controlling and monitoring.  Both EQ and IQ commanders would do well to set clear expectations, back off, and then be dazzled with how their guys meet or exceed expectations.  In other words, how do both types stop managing and start leading.

(J)  Be authentic.  If you are a cheerleader, then be a cheerleader.  If you are a technical nerd, then be a technical nerd.  Own it.  Otherwise you run the risk of losing your star performers because of your own poor example.  In the end you have to recognize and embrace your particular intelligence ratio and simply surround yourself with 'smart' people.

CONCLUSION

Now, if you'll excuse me...my 64-oz growler and I have a date at the bar.  Seriously.

5 Reasons You Should Surf the Internet during TAP

DISCLAIMER:  This is from the perspective of a mid-level, career-oriented woman who did not have the luxury of a full retirement, becoming a full-time dependent, or going back to school.  I wanted and needed to find a job and found the Transition Assistance Program (TAP) at Hill Air Force Base useless.  Here's why:

1.  TAP at Hill was designed for the service member with over 20 years of experience (retirees entitled to benefits, etc.) and those service members with less than two years (force-shaped, or otherwise, with possible criminal records).  The class should be broken up into three shorter courses that better suit the different categories of transitioning military members (e.g. entry-level, mid-level, executive, etc.) so as to be more in line with the civilian world.

2.  The TAP counselors give you all of the information they plan to cover electronically during pre-counseling and on the first day.  The course simply holds your hand as you experience the numbing effects of death by PowerPoint.

Screenshot:  Why am I listening to you read to me?

Screenshot:  Seriously, you added nothing of value.

3.  There are such things as dumb questions.  I hate to break this to you, but your very specific question about your very specific situation should wait to be asked in-between the numbing PowerPoint presentations.

4.  Don't take notes.  They will only infuriate you since you have to Google everything later anyways because you're not staying in Utah or applying to USAJOBS.gov.

Screenshot:  I really tried to follow along...this was the sum total of my efforts over five days.

5.  TAP should not be your wake-up call that your resume stinks or you need more schooling for your next career.  If you need a job and waited to start the process until you went to TAP, then you really need to be surfing the Internet for temporary work, certification courses, housing, etc.  The saying holds true even as you're leaving Active Duty:  no one takes care of you like you.  So take the 40 hours allotted for this class and get professional help online or via email.  Build online profiles.  Do something.  Anything.  Don't just sit there and worry.  Worry does you no good.  Do the work.

NOTE:  I did provide this feedback throughout the course, but would be foolish to believe that anyone took action.

Other Tips:

1.  Do not fight with the "career counselor" who has known nothing but government service when he tells you to wear a sundress for interviews.

2.  Do not tell that same "career counselor" to stop repeatedly harassing the pretty blonde lieutenant in front of you during the class.

3.  Do not argue with the other "career counselor" who tells you LinkedIn.com is worthless and will never land you a job.

4.  Make sure you charge ALL of your Internet-surfing devices.  Better yet, bring the cables...you're going to need them.

5.  Network with the other people in your class.  Chances are that they are all anxious like you and are looking for insider information on what works or doesn't work.  SHARE SHARE SHARE your experiences to date.

Helpless in the Depot

If you'd have asked me to lambast my former bosses and supervisors two months ago I would've been all over it like a fat kid on cake.  Seriously.

Truth:  There is a fat kid trapped inside of me.

I was bitter and angry and still questioning my reasons for leaving Active Duty while simultaneously telling myself that it was on my own terms and had been a long time coming.

There was an element of truth to that, but it's ridiculous to think that my plethora of bad leadership experiences didn't at least marginally contribute to my decision to leave.

I did my best to keep things in perspective and I tried to believe the advice of my coworkers when they said, "You can learn as much from the good ones as you can the bad ones."

The only problem was I had very, very few good examples to draw from and am still unsure what a "good" Air Force officer looks like.  

Are they the shitscreen?  Protecting the guys?  Are they cutthroat and out for themselves?  Searching for another star?  Are they being beat down by Congress?  Going along to get along?

While this line of questioning drove me absolutely batty the last nine months or so I finally came to the realization that it just doesn't matter.  In the words of Seth Godin, "Big companies are filled with turkeys, lifers, incompetents, and political operators.  But there, among the bureaucrats, are some exceptional people."  And the slugs are going to lean on the diligent few until those people shrug.

And you know what I found out?  No one misses Dagny.  They already have another workhorse and that's okay.

I don't mean to sound arrogant, but at one point I had three jobs (Flight Test Commander, Expeditionary Depot Commander, and Assistant Deputy Group Commander) and three additional duties (Air Show Chair, Retirement Ceremony Coordinator, and Group Compliance Inspection Lead).  I'm sure I left out a few things, but I really thought that they needed me.

WRONG!

I should've known better.  I only had those jobs because I was a first lieutenant that was both unwilling and unable to say no.  I was angry that no one stood up for me and helped me say no, but looking back I now see that if I wasn't willing to say anything nobody else would be willing to say anything.

NOTE:  This was made abundantly clear to me when I accidentally overhead my immediate supervisors acknowledge my being bullied (another story entirely) and saying that someone else would say something if it got out of hand.

Anyways, this post isn't meant as some sort of pity party or self-congratulatory epiphany.  It's just finally the result of feeling like enough of an outsider to really see the forest for the trees.

I didn't do myself any favors by suffering in silence (i.e. crying in the bathroom and taking out my anger on the wrong people) and not admitting to feeling overwhelmed.  I wrongly assumed that my volunteering for deployments and different assignments was transmitting my misery loud and clear.

WRONG!

In hindsight this logic was absolutely idiotic and something I will have to bear in mind throughout my next career.

Bottom line?  No one cares about you, but you.  So you better do a good job or be willing to suffer the consequences.  Self-imposed or otherwise.

wikiHow - How to Leave the Military

Word doc:  Do not send this; just get it out of your system.

1 - When you decide to leave the military, do NOT send an angry email.  Better yet, do not send an email at all.  Make the tough phone call if you are on the road or schedule the meeting face-to-face with your supervisor.  If you are angry about a particular situation such as sequestration or a bad boss put those words down on a MS Word document instead of into a MS Outlook email.

Word doc:  Again, just get it out of your system and do NOT quote Sir Richard Branson!

2 - Make sure you are leaving on your terms and not because of a bad situation or bad leadership.  This seems obvious, but a wise GS-14 once reminded me that bad bosses are everywhere.  This same civilian also warned me that I was being called insubordinate during the same time I was applying to separate, which led me to repeat Step 1 and realize that the decision to separate was mine and mine alone.

Screenshot:  Keep it short and sweet with AFPC, they don't read this crap anyway.

3 - Accept that you will have to do everything yourself.  This includes communicating with AFPC, finance, TMO, and similar agencies as well as scheduling the pre-TAP and TAP courses.  All of this must be done while also working full time and trying to find a replacement.  I was unable to accomplish the last part and had to be both the Commander and Operations Officer the last month of Active Duty.  This was to the detriment of the unit and for that I apologize.

Screenshot:  Control what you can control...document, document, DOCUMENT

4 - Track and document everything.  I realize that most everyone knows this, but AFPC will lose everything twice as will finance and TMO and AFRC.  Simply create a transition binder or folder and carrying it around like the Holy Bible.

5 - Record all conversations so that you can remember who is supposed to do what.  You will be overwhelmed with different instructions and told that certain people do not have access to your leave or your separation profile or whatever.  Write it down or tape it.  Whatever your method, record it.

6 - Record all conversations with your immediate supervisor because he has no clue who you are or why you want to separate and they will make you laugh.  Over the course of a ten-minute conversation, we spent two-minutes talking about barbecue and I was actually tasked to email him that I had secured his steak 'rub'.  Never once did he ask what I plan on doing when I got out or what new career I wanted to pursue.  He also asked about the voluntary pay amount as well as the number in my year group getting force shaped.  His previous source had been the AF Times.

Screenshot:  In true wiki fashion (anime photo)...smile!

7 - Try to enjoy the process.  It is the last time you will have to deal with that particular headache!

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.

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.

The Pre-Bagram Story

I did not mean for yesterday's post to turn into a cynical rant on the state of logistics in the military.  To be clear, I actually think the military does a decent job harnessing geography and moving tons of cargo and troops thousands of miles around the world.  Just don't forget where FedEx founder Fred Smith and Walmart cofounders Sam and Bud Walton (among others) got their impetus to start logistics companies.

No, what I really wanted to talk about yesterday was the following axiom:

Photo:  A trite truism, but one that I had to learn the hard way...

This is one of those little sayings that you hear repeated ad nauseam in classrooms and symposiums.  Unfortunately, you never fully appreciate the power of the message until you encounter someone from your past and hope like hell that you never said or did anything awful to them.

Alternatively, this truism is also applicable to times of reflection around major life changes when you actually have a moment to ponder how and why you got to this point.  This decision point.  This tipping point.  This leap of faith.

To be clear, we're talking about me here and why I left the USAF.

Obviously a lot of thought went into the decision and I did not leave on a whim or because of a bad boss.  I left because of a series of conversations that, at the time, I swept under the rug, but were clearly a glimpse into my next 20 to 30 years.

This is one of them.

***

December 26, 2009.  Pre-dawn.  RAF Lakenheath, UK.  The morning of the main body movement to Afghanistan via Kyrgyzstan.  

I was a second lieutenant and charged to be the troop commander for over 200 folks going downrange.  I had a compliment of outstanding senior noncommissioned officers (SNCOs) either enroute or going with me, but I still felt extreme anxiety.  

I had all of the documents that I needed to get everyone to the postage-sized dump in the middle of Central Asia known as Manas (pronounced either MAN-ass or MUN-az, but whatever).  Once there, I then had to get them assigned to transport missions into Afghanistan.  All of this before the aircraft package from England via EMEA got there, of course.  

Not to make excuses, but I had been in the active-duty USAF for all of 17 months and with this particular unit for four months.  Yea, stressed out does not even begin to describe how I felt.

Then the problems started.

I found out through my commander, Major Mercurial (name changed to match his outstanding leadership style), that one of my SNCOs had gotten into a bar fight and would not be going with us that morning.  No problem.  We call the alternate.  Alternate arrives.  Cool, right?

No.  Major Mercurial is going to call the SNCO who got his shit punched in and requires dental surgery into the office for a berating that very morning.  This will take place in front of everyone who still has to go on the deployment as well as:

During final out processing.

During multiple roll calls.

During final instructions from the logisticians charged to move us.

During weather reports.

During transport aircraft updates.

During the bus loading to the aircraft.

Photo:  So this is how I probably would have dealt with everything (i.e. no paperwork), but that's why I am getting out...

So I make the call to send a fully competent Senior Master Sergeant into the berating session so that I can herd cats, stay up-to-speed on all the information, and try to avoid completely screwing up the first step of this monthslong deployment.

Wrong.  WRONG!

Video clip:  Wrong.  WRONG!

So the moment Major Mercurial realizes that I do not plan on attending the putdown session he bursts into the hallway and essentially asks what I am doing.  (NOTE:  I can only assume that the berating was just to make sure this guy felt worse than he already did, since he was, and is, a good guy and got into the fight because some guys were giving his wife trouble.)

And this is where the details of the exchange get fuzzy.  Like I said, how I felt is the main point of this story.

So he directs me into the office, dismisses the bruised and battered SNCO, and rips me a new one.  He proceeds to asks me if I have any idea what I am doing (me:  I guess not), asks me if I know what is important (me:  again, I guess not, sir), and around and around we go.

The part that stuck with me was the cussing.  I had never been sworn at like that in the past.  Sworn at, absolutely, but not in reference to my decision-making abilities, prioritization skills, or general intelligence.

Regardless, it was one of the few times I did not take this sort of interaction personally.

I knew that given the opportunity I would have made the exact same decision.  One human being just simply cannot be in two places at once and I made the call that I needed to move over 200 people versus making one guy feel worse than he already did.

I am thankful, however, that I had enough wherewithal to put the incident behind me and focus on the mission at hand.  (WOW, the paradox of that last statement actually has me laughing out loud right now; does the mission get any more at hand than that?)

I did make one horrendous decision when I got to Kyrgyzstan in spite of all the hoopla and that was to make a point of the incident and not allow folks to drink their daily beer allotment since it was an alcohol-fueled bar fight.

If anyone on that trip reads this, I AM SORRY.  Additionally, I know all of you drank and you know that I did not go to Pete's Place for that very reason, right?

Photo:  A real crap decision on my part...

See all of this is indicative of what a crap manager-leader I was, but at least I see that now and can learn from it.  Too bad I didn't have anyone (Major Mercurial) to call to help me with that thought process.

More on him and his mentorship later.

For now, thanks for reading!