A traveler saw two men cutting stone from a mountain and placing the blocks on carts. He asked them, “What are you doing?” One said, “Can’t you see? We’re cutting stones from this mountain.” The other man gave the traveler an understanding look and said, ….”We’re building a church.” (for non-USCG readers, sorry for the Coast Guard acronym speak – I’ll explain later) I am always screwing up; and I mean constantly. Not in big ways anymore, I’ve made all “those” mistakes and survived. But with little things, the things that aren’t so obvious, I miss them all the time. Later, when I look back, I’m amazed at how easy it seems to do things right. Like my first real boss used to say, “I go to bed every night thinking I can’t get any smarter, and wake up every morning wondering how I could have been so stupid yesterday.” That’s just life, I guess. But recently, I came across a goof not so easy to spot and even harder to correct. It’s something we do readily, backed up by years of tradition and practice, yet I believe it is the single biggest mistake that any of us ever make in our work life. It causes us more unnecessary hassle and serves to incite more job dissatisfaction than anything, and until recently, I would never have guessed it was such a big problem, but it is. We use the chain of command. […]
(Well – that took a little longer than I thought it should (3 years?) but Blagojevich finally found out he did something wrong. A few years ago, the incredulous way he said “I did nothing wrong” compelled me to write a few words on blame. I’m re-posting now in honor of …accountability.) After years spent over the ocean looking for lost, endangered, ill, or otherwise seriously troubled boaters, I have noticed something very common in most search and rescue cases.With the exception of a few medical evacuations (an accident is an accident), all emergencies at sea have a latent common denominator; regardless of the variables that define the emergency.In all but the most complex accidents, the cause of the emergency can be traced back to a bad decision made by the captain, and often made before leaving the dock.In other words, it’s always the captain’s fault.Think about this long enough and your experience will discover contradictions to the theory, but they will be weak contradictions at best.At the end of the day (or voyage), all things being equal, with the exceptions noted; when the Coast Guard’s search and rescue (SAR) alarm goes off, you can bet your next paycheck that some skipper somewhere screwed up. In the past I have been so convinced of my theory (and my own infallible perception) that I included my opinion about a skipper’s complete culpability into articles and lectures to the boating public. I’ve been a guest speaker at more than a few yacht club lunches or dinners. Not being a one to pull punches when so convinced, invariably I would get to the part where I blame them for all their woes and the Coast Guard’s often sleepless nights on duty. Some of them grunt and some of them nod (the nodders have never called the Coast Guard for help), but in the end they all draw my meaning from the semantics and almost never throw food. Good sea captains understand something I think. There is no one outside the boat. It is the complete isolation of being afloat that dooms captains to the burden of ultimate responsibility: No one else is there and in charge of anything but the captain. On land, when challenged about the condition of one thing or the practice of another, we can always point back to our predecessors or to the side to some outside variable that is well out of our control. On land, with so many people coming and going, adding their part to the operation of day to day things, we are supplied with an increasing number of persons to point at when things go wrong. Ashore, fault is flexible. It is much easier to look outside our circle of responsibility for the problem and for a minute, the people looking to us for answers can be confused by the fog we draw their attention to when we point. Sea captains don’t have that luxury. When they look outside the boat, there is nothing but the sea looking back. I’m jealous. Because it is the luxury of assigning blame that makes leadership ashore such a difficult task. Blame is a function of management (usually damage control) but accepting responsibility, the captain’s bane, realizing that~ “It’s all my fault.” is the polestar of a leader. Shame on those who assign blame when accepting it is imperative. This is what I have believed and preached to anyone who would listen. Had I known I was talking about myself I would have shut-up. A few years ago, safely entrenched in the ambiguity of being an E-5 – the military equivalent of a line worker – I was listed as up for promotion and told by my supervisor, “Yup, pick someone to take over your position, train em, and you come down here and run the shop.” Oh sure, I acted confident enough. All I said was, “Done.” But I had heard clearly, “…you come down here and run the shop.” [insert long reflective pause] Shop supervisor? That was the guy I had been blaming for years. From my position of absolutely no responsibility outside my own world, I had usually fended off accountability for my mistakes, and often towards him. But when I said, “Done.” I knew that everyone would be blaming me for everything from now on. [another pause]…Crap. As with those boat captains, I could find very little exception to the idea that any mistake or oversight could (and should) be traced back to a bad decision made by me. […]
The unaccounted for variable in all these stories, from the "look what my caring leadership and mentoring has produced" series, are the other ten people that worked for you back in 95. What happened to them? What happened to your top three performers that you ignored while you were paying attention to your fixer-upper? Because something definitely happened to them - while you may have thought you were doing a good and noble thing, I personally believe you screwed up royal.
If Marcus Buckingham was right, that leadership is “rallying people to a better future.” – then as much as you may think of him as a marketer, as a merchant, or as a hustler (in a good way); Gary Vaynerchuk is – above all of that – a leader. With the recent release of his first book Crush It: Why Now is the Time to Cash in on Your Passion, Vaynerchuk continues to rally (lead) those of us who might listen to the better (and inevitable) future of business in a world turned upside down by…bandwidth. His steady contention is that the gatekeepers of radio, and television, and newspapers are gone – and that anyone (not to be confused with everyone) can turn their passion for anything into a successful life doing what they love. But it isn’t what he believes in, but rather the evangelist-like, unstoppable purpose in that belief that makes Gary Vaynerchuk a true and authentic leader. It’s easy to believe and be passionate about something in a sprint. But the long-haul delivering of a message and sticking to it – in the face of detractors – is what makes people follow. It can’t be taught at business school; it can’t be faked; it comes from inside, and Vaynerchuk has it – in spades. […]
Students of leadership in any organization have, at one time or another, considered defined leadership competencies as a road map of sorts for personal growth. They represent the qualities, talents, and abilities that make up the perfect leader.