and wants that value to be recognized. Every human being needs appreciation and reinforcement. The person who came to clean my office each night was no less a person than the President, a general, or a cabinet member. They deserved and got from me a thank-you, a kind word, an inquiry that let him or her know their value. I wanted them to know they weren’t just janitors. I couldn’t do my job without them, and the department relied on them. There are no trivial jobs in any successful organization. But there are all too many trivial leaders who don’t understand this oh so simple and easy to apply principle.
Taking care of employees is perhaps the best form of kindness. When young soldiers go to basic training they meet a drill sergeant, who seems to be their worst nightmare. He shouts at them relentlessly, he intimidates them, he makes them miserable. They are terrified. But all that changes. Their fear and initial hatred turn into something else by the end of basic training. The sergeant has been with them every step of the way: teaching, cajoling, enforcing, bringing out of them strength and confidence they didn’t know they had. At the end, all they want is for their performance to please him. When they graduate, they leave with an emotional bond and a remembrance they will never forget. Ask any veteran the name of his drill sergeant and he will know it. My ROTC summer camp drill sergeant almost fifty-five years ago was Staff Sergeant (SSG) Artis Westberry.
Being kind doesn’t mean being soft or a wuss. Kindness is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign of confidence. If you have developed a reputation for kindness and consideration, then even the most unpleasant decisions will go down easier because everyone will understand why you are doing what you are doing. They will realize that your decision must be necessary, and is not arbitrary or without empathy.
As the old saying puts it, “To the world, you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world.”
CHAPTER SIX
I’m All Caught Up
O ne of my early mentors, Captain Tom Miller, a wonderful man, commanded Company B, 2nd Armored Rifle Battalion, 48th Infantry in Germany in the late 1950s. I was one of his lieutenants. It was my first assignment. Tom was one of several World War II and Korean War veterans commanding companies in those days, mostly reservists or sergeants who had been promoted during the wars. None of them was destined to be a general, but, boy, they knew a lot about soldiering.
We didn’t call it mentoring back then. It was just what senior officers were supposed to do—train and guide young lieutenants just starting out and try to keep them out of trouble until they were weaned. We learned a lot during the day, but the learning that took place at the officers’ club bar at night was a lot more important and a lot more fun.
Late one night Captain Miller and several lieutenants were sitting at the bar drinking beers. We’d all had more than one, but Tom was way ahead of us as usual. He looked over at us and said, “Now, listen you guys, I wanna tell you about leadership. You all think you are pretty sharp. And at the end of the day you leave the company thinking you’ve got everything in great shape. All the rifles are accounted for, no troops are AWOL, everyone has made bed check, and you’ve had a good day of training. You think everything is squared away. You’re patting yourselves on the back. Then, in the middle of the night, when no one is looking, things get bad screwed up. The next morning you discover a fight had broken out, four windows are broken, two guys are in the hospital, one is missing, a jeep is gone, and the MPs are there waiting for you. You know what? You just suck it up and get started again. It’s a new day in which to excel.”
I had many mornings like that over the next fifty years. We all do. Problems come with just being alive, and even more come with responsibility. When they come, you just suck it
Taking care of employees is perhaps the best form of kindness. When young soldiers go to basic training they meet a drill sergeant, who seems to be their worst nightmare. He shouts at them relentlessly, he intimidates them, he makes them miserable. They are terrified. But all that changes. Their fear and initial hatred turn into something else by the end of basic training. The sergeant has been with them every step of the way: teaching, cajoling, enforcing, bringing out of them strength and confidence they didn’t know they had. At the end, all they want is for their performance to please him. When they graduate, they leave with an emotional bond and a remembrance they will never forget. Ask any veteran the name of his drill sergeant and he will know it. My ROTC summer camp drill sergeant almost fifty-five years ago was Staff Sergeant (SSG) Artis Westberry.
Being kind doesn’t mean being soft or a wuss. Kindness is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign of confidence. If you have developed a reputation for kindness and consideration, then even the most unpleasant decisions will go down easier because everyone will understand why you are doing what you are doing. They will realize that your decision must be necessary, and is not arbitrary or without empathy.
As the old saying puts it, “To the world, you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world.”
CHAPTER SIX
I’m All Caught Up
O ne of my early mentors, Captain Tom Miller, a wonderful man, commanded Company B, 2nd Armored Rifle Battalion, 48th Infantry in Germany in the late 1950s. I was one of his lieutenants. It was my first assignment. Tom was one of several World War II and Korean War veterans commanding companies in those days, mostly reservists or sergeants who had been promoted during the wars. None of them was destined to be a general, but, boy, they knew a lot about soldiering.
We didn’t call it mentoring back then. It was just what senior officers were supposed to do—train and guide young lieutenants just starting out and try to keep them out of trouble until they were weaned. We learned a lot during the day, but the learning that took place at the officers’ club bar at night was a lot more important and a lot more fun.
Late one night Captain Miller and several lieutenants were sitting at the bar drinking beers. We’d all had more than one, but Tom was way ahead of us as usual. He looked over at us and said, “Now, listen you guys, I wanna tell you about leadership. You all think you are pretty sharp. And at the end of the day you leave the company thinking you’ve got everything in great shape. All the rifles are accounted for, no troops are AWOL, everyone has made bed check, and you’ve had a good day of training. You think everything is squared away. You’re patting yourselves on the back. Then, in the middle of the night, when no one is looking, things get bad screwed up. The next morning you discover a fight had broken out, four windows are broken, two guys are in the hospital, one is missing, a jeep is gone, and the MPs are there waiting for you. You know what? You just suck it up and get started again. It’s a new day in which to excel.”
I had many mornings like that over the next fifty years. We all do. Problems come with just being alive, and even more come with responsibility. When they come, you just suck it
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