On an unseasonably cold morning in Fort Campbell in November 1988, my platoon sergeant and I walked the perimeter of our defensive sector in Training Area 17, checking each fighting position and verifying fields of fire as we slogged along in the mud. This was my first training exercise as a platoon leader and my first opportunity to demonstrate some semblance of tactical skill. So after occupying the position before sunrise, I'd spent hours on the perimeter fine-tuning range cards, talking to my soldiers, and preparing for the inevitable attack by an aggressor platoon that night.
As we turned away from the perimeter toward the command post, my platoon sergeant suggested we instead pay a visit to the old 5-ton “Expando Van” that served as battalion maintenance officer’s motor pool on wheels while we were in the field. If the expanse of woodland camouflage netting wasn't enough of a waypoint, the scent of percolating coffee wafting in the air was. We climbed the metal stairs, filled our canteen cups with hot coffee, and found a pair of tree stumps to sit and talk.
Over the next few years, we spent countless hours on other tree stumps, field chairs, vehicle bumpers, and even sandbags, almost always with a cup of coffee in hand. Our professional relationship was set in the chain of command, but our personal relationship was forged over hot coffee and field time. In those early days, the formative years of my career, I learned many lessons, but none more important than how to transform a simple cup of coffee into something far more valuable: a tool for building relationships, a vehicle for mentoring.
In the years that followed, that steaming cup of Joe became a staple in my kit bag. I used it to break the ice with new arrivals (even when the I was the new arrival), broker back office deals when progress seemed at a standstill, counsel subordinates (sometimes without them even knowing), and gauge the climate of the workplace (whether that workplace was in an office or in the dirt on some faraway Forward Operating Base). Where I went, my coffee came with me.
The steaming cup of Joe possesses an uncanny ability to disarm even the most tense situation. Close your eyes and say the words “Let’s get a cup of coffee.” You can feel the calm, smell the aroma, sense the serenity. It produces a moment of zen unlike any other.
As the 90s passed into my rearview mirror and the ability to mentor overscotch and cigars at the club faded into memory, I found myself returning to the steaming cup of Joe more and more (something General Order No. 1 sometimes made inevitable). During the March to Baghdad in 2003, my weapon of choice was a plastic “to go” mug and a folding Coleman camp chair. As time passed, the tree stumps and bumpers of my early years were replaced by plush Naugahyde chairs at a faraway Green Beans, a cafeteria bench in a KBR dining facility, or a picnic table behind the headquarters. But the conversations were the same, just separated by a generation.
Coffee. The great equalizer.
For many of us, the struggle to find a vehicle for mentoring leaves us stranded on opposite sides of a bone-dry Keurig. On one side, a generation of leaders either too busy or too distracted to take a few minutes and fill the water reservoir, to get the conversation started. On the other, a generation of leaders with K-cups in hand, looking for the wisdom and insights of the years of experience represented on the opposite side of the coffee pot. Someone just needs to take the first step.
So take that first step. Put water in the reservoir. Gather your leaders around you and share a cup of coffee. Get out of the office, get out of the command post, get out and find a tree stump. Push away from the computer, put down the PowerPoint slides, take a walk away from the motor pool. Don’t wait to find the perfect opportunity to get the group together for a night at the club, grab a cup of coffee and start talking now. Build relationships, build trust, build camaraderie. Build your team.
All it takes is a steaming cup of Joe.
Afterthought: Don't get me wrong, I still swear by the power of cigars and scotch, but those aren't for everyone. To be honest, I prefer a cold beer and know people who would rather smoke a pipe (or not smoke at all). Hell, some people have been known to mentor over flavored tobaccos at a hookah bar. Take the time to find what works and do it. Break down the barriers and mentor. You owe it to yourself and you owe it to an entire generation of leaders who are following in our bootprints.
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