Caveat lector: This is probably the first of many entries that are going to compare Army and Navy culture, and maybe start to spill over into civil-military relations. If you're interested in following the best online debate that I know of regarding current military culture, you don't want to miss "The Best Defense," by Tom Ricks.
First, just from a military history buff's perspective, there were two really interesting things that stood out for me recently:
1. Running into TWO Vietnam-era vets in my unit still in the service. Both are SFCs. Both have had storied careers that have run across different services, different branches, and different components. But what they both have in common is that they enlisted prior to 1973. Neither actually set foot on the ground in Vietnam -- not by their choice, but by the vicissitudes of the Army personnel system that send some people to Germany and others into the bush. Either way, I never would've guessed it -- Desert Storm and Panama, maybe. Grenada? Probably not. But Vietnam-era?!?! Yes, it's possible.
2. Running into someone in my section whose father is an Afghanistan campaign veteran. It's funny, no one else's eyes seemed to double in size upon hearing this. I didn't flinch when the guy said his brother was currently in Afghanistan, and that he couldn't wait to go, but his dad? How was that possible? Looking over, I saw the guy's name ended in -kov. Turns out, the family is from the Ukraine but the kid was born and raised in the U.S. and speaks unaccented American English. Maybe for no other reason than the sheer historical quirkiness of it, I thought it was pretty awesome.
Anyway, to the service culture stuff. A major difference between the Army and the Navy is the degree of job specialization that comes with the servicemember. I know this will sound weird to most, but people in the Navy don't call each other by just their last name, or even as "Petty Officer Johnson." You'd never say that or hear it. What you WOULD hear is SK2 Johnson (Storekeeper, Second Class), YN1 Johnson (Yeoman, 1st class), EN3 Johnson (Engineman, 3rd class), etc. That changes when people advance beyond E-7, but it speaks to a major difference. In the Army, you'd just be Specialist _____, or Sergeant ______. Your job description never factors into your appellation.
Here's a reason why: Things are never that specialized. You may have multiple MOS's. You might be a cook one day, and you might be a turret gunner on a convoy the next. You might be sent to an entirely different school to change your MOS at a moment's notice.
You might train for urban operations, but then wind up being a desk jockey overseas. By contrast, you might go over expecting desk jockey/TOC monkey type of stuff, but find yourself running convoys or patrolling neighborhoods.
There's just a way bigger sense of uncertainty, and a greater acceptance of the degree of risk that might come with that.
That probably shouldn't come as a major surprise. By and large, the Navy is a bit more technical, and a bit more reliant on using things that beep and squeak in order to locate, collect intelligence on, or destroy something far away -- something over the horizon that the operator won't ever see or touch.
The Army, on the other hand, sort of gets hit with more broad-brush task of "secure and occupy this piece of land...figure out what to do and best of luck with that." That makes for a more chaotic environment, so it's natural that roles are going to have to be more fluid.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Be Careful What You Wish For...You Might NOT Get It
I recently got a letter from a local non-profit that offered several potential options for donations. The lowest, I believe, was about $25, but there was something hand-written on the form that indicated how appreciative they would be of any donation, and how even $10 or $15 would make a huge difference.
That's definitely the right way to do it.
If you're asking people to part with either of their two most precious commodities (money and time), I think it's important you not be a bull in a china shop when you do it.
I was reminded of this recently when I stumbled across something on Facebook that showed how a college buddy of mine who now holds elective office in a state west of the Mississippi is now running for a higher office this year.
Good for him, and I wish him the best.
However, seeing that triggered a memory of something posted several months ago by Kad Barma regarding pricing decisions and revenue optimization. The idea is that if a bar is hosting a comedy night, or an open mic night, or whatever, there's a certain "funny money" threshold, below which prospective patrons will throw the money down without a second thought, and above which people will balk entirely and not spend a single dime on either admission or drinks.
The bar ought to understand where the funny money line sits, because it might mean the difference between filling a room full of people who've paid $10 to enter (and presumably much more for drinks) and being able to hear a pin drop inside because you thought $20 was a more appropriate way to set the cost.
Okay, so back to the memory. This rising pol and I had had sporadic contact since parting ways back on graduation day in 2002. Seemingly out of the blue in fall 2007, he left an urgent-sounding voicemail on my phone. Now, this was right around the time I had gotten a short-fused notice that I would be going overseas that very week to fill a manning gap for a unit in western Iraq.
So, yes, I was quite busy packing everything up, unplugging everything in my apartment, and e-mailing close friends. Still, I made the time to call.
"What's up man? How's it going?"
"Well, I'm running for ___, and I need your support. Can you donate?"
"Sounds good, but I'm literally heading out the door ASAP on a C-17. I'd love to help but am sort of squeezed for money right now. Besides, I don't even know what the rules are on that sort of thing?" (I've since learned that UCMJ doesn't forbid political donations by active duty members, though it does prohibit certain forms of activity, but honestly didn't know that at the time).
Showing little concern or sympathy for said situation, he just offered up something like this -- "Man, that's really too bad, because I had you pegged as one of my major, $5,000 fundraisers."
I nearly hung the phone up.
I wasn't sure what he was implying. Did he think I was going to walk around Virginia Beach with a hat, raising $5,000 in small donations for someone they'd never heard of? Did he think I would be phone-banking from my apartment for that? Liquidate my entire Roth IRA on a moment's notice? I have no idea, and I didn't really ask. I politely ended the conversation, and that was about it.
Here's where he went wrong: If he had tried a much more humble approach, it might've sounded something more like this: "Hey Page, I know it's been awhile, great to hear about what you've been up to...I know times are tight, but do you think you could send me a $20 check? It would mean a lot, and it would go a long way."
An approach like that would've meant two things: First, he would've gotten the $20 (which is $20 more than $o!); and second, he would've picked up another supporter for his bid. Charities, non-profits, and politicians are all well-aware of the principle that once people have donated to you, they feel invested in you, and are thus likely to remain supportive.
Instead, just like the bar that was charging a bit too much of an entrance fee for a no-name comic lineup, he got nothing. Even worse, he left a bad taste in at least one person's mouth.
The charity or campaign that shows respect for the small donor -- much like the Ron Paul and Barack Obama campaigns did in 2008 -- earns TONS of avid supporters who are encouraged to display their fervor in contagious sort of ways.
No matter how much surplus time or money you may think other people have, chances are, they don't feel the same way. If you're going to ask others for time or money, it's best to stop and consider whether the terms you're setting -- and they way you're setting them -- might preclude you from coming away with either.
That's definitely the right way to do it.
If you're asking people to part with either of their two most precious commodities (money and time), I think it's important you not be a bull in a china shop when you do it.
I was reminded of this recently when I stumbled across something on Facebook that showed how a college buddy of mine who now holds elective office in a state west of the Mississippi is now running for a higher office this year.
Good for him, and I wish him the best.
However, seeing that triggered a memory of something posted several months ago by Kad Barma regarding pricing decisions and revenue optimization. The idea is that if a bar is hosting a comedy night, or an open mic night, or whatever, there's a certain "funny money" threshold, below which prospective patrons will throw the money down without a second thought, and above which people will balk entirely and not spend a single dime on either admission or drinks.
The bar ought to understand where the funny money line sits, because it might mean the difference between filling a room full of people who've paid $10 to enter (and presumably much more for drinks) and being able to hear a pin drop inside because you thought $20 was a more appropriate way to set the cost.
Okay, so back to the memory. This rising pol and I had had sporadic contact since parting ways back on graduation day in 2002. Seemingly out of the blue in fall 2007, he left an urgent-sounding voicemail on my phone. Now, this was right around the time I had gotten a short-fused notice that I would be going overseas that very week to fill a manning gap for a unit in western Iraq.
So, yes, I was quite busy packing everything up, unplugging everything in my apartment, and e-mailing close friends. Still, I made the time to call.
"What's up man? How's it going?"
"Well, I'm running for ___, and I need your support. Can you donate?"
"Sounds good, but I'm literally heading out the door ASAP on a C-17. I'd love to help but am sort of squeezed for money right now. Besides, I don't even know what the rules are on that sort of thing?" (I've since learned that UCMJ doesn't forbid political donations by active duty members, though it does prohibit certain forms of activity, but honestly didn't know that at the time).
Showing little concern or sympathy for said situation, he just offered up something like this -- "Man, that's really too bad, because I had you pegged as one of my major, $5,000 fundraisers."
I nearly hung the phone up.
I wasn't sure what he was implying. Did he think I was going to walk around Virginia Beach with a hat, raising $5,000 in small donations for someone they'd never heard of? Did he think I would be phone-banking from my apartment for that? Liquidate my entire Roth IRA on a moment's notice? I have no idea, and I didn't really ask. I politely ended the conversation, and that was about it.
Here's where he went wrong: If he had tried a much more humble approach, it might've sounded something more like this: "Hey Page, I know it's been awhile, great to hear about what you've been up to...I know times are tight, but do you think you could send me a $20 check? It would mean a lot, and it would go a long way."
An approach like that would've meant two things: First, he would've gotten the $20 (which is $20 more than $o!); and second, he would've picked up another supporter for his bid. Charities, non-profits, and politicians are all well-aware of the principle that once people have donated to you, they feel invested in you, and are thus likely to remain supportive.
Instead, just like the bar that was charging a bit too much of an entrance fee for a no-name comic lineup, he got nothing. Even worse, he left a bad taste in at least one person's mouth.
The charity or campaign that shows respect for the small donor -- much like the Ron Paul and Barack Obama campaigns did in 2008 -- earns TONS of avid supporters who are encouraged to display their fervor in contagious sort of ways.
No matter how much surplus time or money you may think other people have, chances are, they don't feel the same way. If you're going to ask others for time or money, it's best to stop and consider whether the terms you're setting -- and they way you're setting them -- might preclude you from coming away with either.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
The Flynn Report: Opening Salvo
When three people ask you within a one-hour span whether you've read "The Flynn Report" that probably means it's time to read it. Thankfully, both Cliff Krieger and a former colleague of mine just sent me virtual copies, nearly simultaneously.
I've given it a once-over, and it's coming with me to drill weekend for some by-the-headlamp reading on Saturday night.
Although I admit when I first heard about it I was afraid it was just more dumping on the S2 (I think the S2 is often the hardest-worked and most-underappreciated shop in a Tactical Operations Center), I think Flynn is saying more about the way S2 (Military Intelligence) personnel are being used overseas.
For starters, there are way too many top-heavy Intel shops that are too close the flagpole. I've never set foot in Afghanistan, but one thing I can say for certain is that in any part of Iraq that I saw from 06-08, there were always too many S2 personnel working at the upper echelons, while the tactical elements were starving for more.
What I believe General Flynn is saying is that it's those elements -- the ones actually doing the foot patrols and the mounted convoys -- who need people writing reports that move up the chain, and pushing other reporting and expertise to the joes.
What we certainly DON'T need are large self-licking ice cream cones of people making endless pretty PowerPoint slides for an O-6 or above, patting themselves on the back, writing up their Bronze Star citations and calling it a day.
What tactical value are those people providing?
I thought this was a particularly good nugget from the report:
I've given it a once-over, and it's coming with me to drill weekend for some by-the-headlamp reading on Saturday night.
Although I admit when I first heard about it I was afraid it was just more dumping on the S2 (I think the S2 is often the hardest-worked and most-underappreciated shop in a Tactical Operations Center), I think Flynn is saying more about the way S2 (Military Intelligence) personnel are being used overseas.
For starters, there are way too many top-heavy Intel shops that are too close the flagpole. I've never set foot in Afghanistan, but one thing I can say for certain is that in any part of Iraq that I saw from 06-08, there were always too many S2 personnel working at the upper echelons, while the tactical elements were starving for more.
What I believe General Flynn is saying is that it's those elements -- the ones actually doing the foot patrols and the mounted convoys -- who need people writing reports that move up the chain, and pushing other reporting and expertise to the joes.
What we certainly DON'T need are large self-licking ice cream cones of people making endless pretty PowerPoint slides for an O-6 or above, patting themselves on the back, writing up their Bronze Star citations and calling it a day.
What tactical value are those people providing?
I thought this was a particularly good nugget from the report:
By implication, I believe that Flynn is saying this is not currently the case -- there are too many people "hiding away" without any connection to a maneuver element that can benefit from the product they're providing, or, in turn, provide them with real, on-the-ground insight as to what's going on in the towns and villages."Leaders must put time and energy into selecting the best, most extroverted and hungriest analysts to serve in the Stability Operations Information Centers."
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
$80k...for WHAT?!?!?!
This Wall Street Journal column deals with the issue of associate deferrals at the prestigious law firm of Cravath, Swaine, and Moore.
The big idea here is that the firm doesn't have the work or the money lying around to pay their first-year associates the $160k that they were offered coming through the door. The idea, then, is that the firm can cut costs by offering this deal -- We'll pay you $80k just to show us the back of your head and not come back 'til next fall.
It's an interesting proposition, especially at a time when so many talented people are unemployed or, more likely, underemployed. Where the columnist was stunned was in the lack of takers.
When you peel it back a little, however, there are very good and very rational reasons for people to NOT take the deferral offer. For one, they've just gone through 7 or more years of school, and are looking forward to beginning their careers; for another, they may have significant overhead and find that they actually need the full $160k to support some aspect of their lifestyle, which may include expensive Manhattan real estate, a nice car, private school tuition for a very young one...and that's all on top of what might be six figures' worth of student loans.
Still, I had to see the article through my own lens -- what I found most interesting about the article and all the comments on wsj.com was the built-in assumptions about what it must mean for a person not to work a 9-to-5.
From the initial reference to "sleeping and loafing around Park Slope" to the comments that talk about "Well, wouldn't you get bored just sleeping on the couch and going to the gym all day?" it surprises me that people can be so myopic. I would think a properly diligent and properly motivated person could do some pretty goshdarned amazing things with that opportunity -- travel the world, read all the classics that he or she missed during undergrad, write a novel, learn a new language, do pro bono work for a legal charity, etc. To me, just thinking about the different ways you could carve out an amazing year with $80k in your pocket seems exciting.
And of course the "hits close to home" aspect to this for me is that right now I have two part-time jobs, each of which is ramping closer to full-time (even to the degree that one may have to give way for the other), in addition to exploring a range of possible grad school opportunities, which means taking an alphabet soup bowl's worth of tests, which means, which means, you get the idea -- busier than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking competition.
Yet even still, that can be incredibly difficult to explain in a concise way to someone who asks, "What is it that you do?" with all the tiptoeing politeness but true curiosity of a person who wonders why you're still unshaven in jeans and a t-shirt at an unusual hour. And that's the better side to it -- there's also the smarmy "must be nice" from someone implying a willful life of leisure, or the blunter, "So...don't you just get bored with daytime TV all day?" which I actually heard more than once over the holidays.
So, to anyone out there in legal land who has the chutzpah to take $80k just to walk away for a year and dedicate himself or herself to whatever great things are possible for someone with ample time and motivation, from the bottom of my heart, I salute you. I have full faith and confidence that you will do great things. I hope you never watch a single Jerry Springer episode, but if you do, I promise not to judge.
The big idea here is that the firm doesn't have the work or the money lying around to pay their first-year associates the $160k that they were offered coming through the door. The idea, then, is that the firm can cut costs by offering this deal -- We'll pay you $80k just to show us the back of your head and not come back 'til next fall.
It's an interesting proposition, especially at a time when so many talented people are unemployed or, more likely, underemployed. Where the columnist was stunned was in the lack of takers.
When you peel it back a little, however, there are very good and very rational reasons for people to NOT take the deferral offer. For one, they've just gone through 7 or more years of school, and are looking forward to beginning their careers; for another, they may have significant overhead and find that they actually need the full $160k to support some aspect of their lifestyle, which may include expensive Manhattan real estate, a nice car, private school tuition for a very young one...and that's all on top of what might be six figures' worth of student loans.
Still, I had to see the article through my own lens -- what I found most interesting about the article and all the comments on wsj.com was the built-in assumptions about what it must mean for a person not to work a 9-to-5.
From the initial reference to "sleeping and loafing around Park Slope" to the comments that talk about "Well, wouldn't you get bored just sleeping on the couch and going to the gym all day?" it surprises me that people can be so myopic. I would think a properly diligent and properly motivated person could do some pretty goshdarned amazing things with that opportunity -- travel the world, read all the classics that he or she missed during undergrad, write a novel, learn a new language, do pro bono work for a legal charity, etc. To me, just thinking about the different ways you could carve out an amazing year with $80k in your pocket seems exciting.
And of course the "hits close to home" aspect to this for me is that right now I have two part-time jobs, each of which is ramping closer to full-time (even to the degree that one may have to give way for the other), in addition to exploring a range of possible grad school opportunities, which means taking an alphabet soup bowl's worth of tests, which means, which means, you get the idea -- busier than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking competition.
Yet even still, that can be incredibly difficult to explain in a concise way to someone who asks, "What is it that you do?" with all the tiptoeing politeness but true curiosity of a person who wonders why you're still unshaven in jeans and a t-shirt at an unusual hour. And that's the better side to it -- there's also the smarmy "must be nice" from someone implying a willful life of leisure, or the blunter, "So...don't you just get bored with daytime TV all day?" which I actually heard more than once over the holidays.
So, to anyone out there in legal land who has the chutzpah to take $80k just to walk away for a year and dedicate himself or herself to whatever great things are possible for someone with ample time and motivation, from the bottom of my heart, I salute you. I have full faith and confidence that you will do great things. I hope you never watch a single Jerry Springer episode, but if you do, I promise not to judge.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Where I'll Give Galluccio Credit
Well, it looks like "Senator Toothpaste" is finally out of a job and on lockdown. I'm still wondering, as I did in my earlier post when he first tried to make the bogus Sensodyne claim, if I'm going to be paying this guy's pension for most of the rest of my working life. My hunch, unfortunately, is yes.
Here's where I'll give him credit -- he went big. Even though the attempted defense strategy has long been discredited in courts of law, and even though this guy has shown such egregiously poor judgement so as to leave the scene of an accident after he hit a family's minivan so hard that he left an imprint of his own license plate on the side he had the nerve to try to claim he hadn't violated the terms of his probation, and that in fact it was the toothpaste that gave the reading.
And for a guy who goes from Councilor to Mayor to State Senator and then has everything fall apart like this, you might as well go down swinging.
For me, the toothpaste defense beats anything I've heard this side of "poor judgement," "temporary lapse in good decision-making," "numerous transgressions," or yes, even the infamous "wide stance" of the Honorable Gentleman from Idaho.
Here's where I'll give him credit -- he went big. Even though the attempted defense strategy has long been discredited in courts of law, and even though this guy has shown such egregiously poor judgement so as to leave the scene of an accident after he hit a family's minivan so hard that he left an imprint of his own license plate on the side he had the nerve to try to claim he hadn't violated the terms of his probation, and that in fact it was the toothpaste that gave the reading.
And for a guy who goes from Councilor to Mayor to State Senator and then has everything fall apart like this, you might as well go down swinging.
For me, the toothpaste defense beats anything I've heard this side of "poor judgement," "temporary lapse in good decision-making," "numerous transgressions," or yes, even the infamous "wide stance" of the Honorable Gentleman from Idaho.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Leaders and Doers, Redux
My fiancee is a pharmacy technician at CVS. By way of analogy, pharmacy technician is sort of like Specialist to Colonel -- your work generally involves a lot more drudgery for a fraction of the pay, but you don't have as much responsibility, authority, or required training/schooling.
The other day after I picked her up from work, she was pointing out the difference between the pharmacists she enjoys working for and those she doesn't. The key distinguishing feature seemed to involve the way they treat "the help" -- there are certain pharmacists who, when things are busy and the staff is short-handed, will voluntarily move themselves down a rung or two on the prestige ladder and do the little things, i.e. ringing up a customer at the register, running around to pick things up from the back, etc.
Then there are those who say "that's not what I do" and just watch the techs run around like crazy while the situation gets hairier, without helping to move the proverbial chains 10 yards downfield. And if you don't believe that things get crazy, you should hear some of the stories I'm privy to about some of the surlier and nuttier regular customers that you might see at a pharmacy anywhere, let alone in Lowell.
Anyway, back to the point -- the pharmacist who just sits there insisting on not doing things outside his/her job description sort of has a point, which I'll happily concede -- there are reasons high-priced lawyers have secretaries and paralegals, reasons why doctors have medical technician staffs, and, yes, reasons why pharmacists have pharmacy techs -- their time is valuable, and it's not efficiently used if it's all spend on administrivia or other drudgery.
Got it.
In a perfectly-ordered and perfectly-stable world, that makes, well, perfect sense. But when things have to happen, there isn't always some junior enlisted or equivalent thereof standing by to help. In those times, I believe that good managers will see the need, roll their sleeves up, and dive in so that some triage can be performed on the situation at hand.
By contrast, managers who are too wrapped around their job description to engage in "the little things" from time to time are often an impediment to the entire organization, whose progress often depends on the execution of the little things.
I'm okay with the idea that a Fortune 500 CEO doesn't take out his own trash or clean the bathroom in his executive suite. I *get* that that's not the best use of his, and by extension the company's, time. I would no sooner expect a four-star General to be shining his own shoes and pressing his own uniforms.
But I'm also willing to bet that your organization is neither a Fortune 500 company or a four-star military command.
And if that's the case, sometimes a little elbow grease never hurt anybody.
The other day after I picked her up from work, she was pointing out the difference between the pharmacists she enjoys working for and those she doesn't. The key distinguishing feature seemed to involve the way they treat "the help" -- there are certain pharmacists who, when things are busy and the staff is short-handed, will voluntarily move themselves down a rung or two on the prestige ladder and do the little things, i.e. ringing up a customer at the register, running around to pick things up from the back, etc.
Then there are those who say "that's not what I do" and just watch the techs run around like crazy while the situation gets hairier, without helping to move the proverbial chains 10 yards downfield. And if you don't believe that things get crazy, you should hear some of the stories I'm privy to about some of the surlier and nuttier regular customers that you might see at a pharmacy anywhere, let alone in Lowell.
Anyway, back to the point -- the pharmacist who just sits there insisting on not doing things outside his/her job description sort of has a point, which I'll happily concede -- there are reasons high-priced lawyers have secretaries and paralegals, reasons why doctors have medical technician staffs, and, yes, reasons why pharmacists have pharmacy techs -- their time is valuable, and it's not efficiently used if it's all spend on administrivia or other drudgery.
Got it.
In a perfectly-ordered and perfectly-stable world, that makes, well, perfect sense. But when things have to happen, there isn't always some junior enlisted or equivalent thereof standing by to help. In those times, I believe that good managers will see the need, roll their sleeves up, and dive in so that some triage can be performed on the situation at hand.
By contrast, managers who are too wrapped around their job description to engage in "the little things" from time to time are often an impediment to the entire organization, whose progress often depends on the execution of the little things.
I'm okay with the idea that a Fortune 500 CEO doesn't take out his own trash or clean the bathroom in his executive suite. I *get* that that's not the best use of his, and by extension the company's, time. I would no sooner expect a four-star General to be shining his own shoes and pressing his own uniforms.
But I'm also willing to bet that your organization is neither a Fortune 500 company or a four-star military command.
And if that's the case, sometimes a little elbow grease never hurt anybody.
Friday, January 1, 2010
A Suggested PT Resolution
If you have a couple spare minutes, check out the embedded propaganda video about U.S. Army Air Assault School.
Here's why this school is so hardcore: one of the requirements is a 12.0-mile ruck with a 50-lb. pack in under 3 hours. That may not sound that hard, because going 12 miles in three hours is *only* a 15-minute per mile pace.
Until you try it, that is.
At that type of pace with that type of pack, the ruck becomes something of a walk-run hybrid.
I recently read that the most frequently-made types of New Year's Resolutions involve personal health -- physical fitness and weight loss. To anyone looking for a phenomenal combination leg/core/cardiovascular challenge, resolving to go 4 miles in under an hour might be a good vow for the New Year.
Here's why this school is so hardcore: one of the requirements is a 12.0-mile ruck with a 50-lb. pack in under 3 hours. That may not sound that hard, because going 12 miles in three hours is *only* a 15-minute per mile pace.
Until you try it, that is.
At that type of pace with that type of pack, the ruck becomes something of a walk-run hybrid.
I recently read that the most frequently-made types of New Year's Resolutions involve personal health -- physical fitness and weight loss. To anyone looking for a phenomenal combination leg/core/cardiovascular challenge, resolving to go 4 miles in under an hour might be a good vow for the New Year.
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