I Hate Fridays

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I hate Fridays with a passion. At the end of a long week, I’m usually left with an overflowing email inbox, the product of meetings, sidebar conversations, and a well-developed habit of leading by interacting with people face-to-face. All of the crises of the previous four days seem to reach a crescendo sometime between 1600 and 1800 on Friday. Serious Incident Reports, last-minute taskers, and other life-draining events all occur after 1600 on Friday. Like clockwork.

So, it was late on a Friday afternoon, the inbox was overflowing, and an agitated officer stood outside the doorway to my office. I had more work than I could possibly complete in the remaining hours of the day, and I knew from repeated, painful experience that the individual now pacing outside my door would occupy at least the next 60 minutes, if not more. I pushed my keyboard drawer under the desk and let out an exasperated sigh. “Come on in,” I said, as little piece of my soul died.

Ninety minutes later, the officer walked out of my office. My inbox was even fuller than it had been. I was hungry, tired, and more than a little irritated. I pulled the keyboard drawer back out from under my desk, opened Microsoft Word and started typing. I pounded out ninety minutes of frustration in relatively short order, and the bones of this post began to take shape.

Over the course of an otherwise mediocre career, few subjects fueled my passion more than leader development. I listened closely to good leaders, watched the poor ones closer, and shaped a personal approach to leading that captured the best examples while avoiding the worst. These “maxims” formed the nexus of my philosophy as a leader, and I continued to evolve them over the years, drawing on them whenever I took command of an organization or assumed a key leadership position.

What these maxims offered was an answer to an inevitable question: “What do you expect from me?” That same question can be stated in many other ways, from “How can I provide the most value?” to “What does it take to be successful?” In every case, I answered with the same basic ten things (I like nice, clean lists of ten). Simple (simplicity is, after all, a principle of war), direct (why beat around the bush?), and clear (no smoke and mirrors here). Just the basics.

But on the average Friday, I always found myself having the same exhausting conversation with the same subordinates asking the same questions. I would pull out the same list of ten maxims, highlight the same pertinent ones, and have the same discussion. But in hope of finding some lost glimmer of hope, I would do exactly the same thing, following the same sequence, believing that it might produce a different result. I’ve since come to learn that is also the definition of insanity.

But I soldiered on, because that’s what we do as leaders, especially when you truly believe in what you are doing. We won’t get through to everyone, but we never stop trying.

These are my maxims. There are many like them, but these are mine. 

Be brief, be brilliant, be gone. If it takes you longer than ten minutes to make your case, you’re wrong. Ideally, you should be able to communicate a message in five minutes or less (it’s called an ‘elevator speech’). If you plan to consume more than an hour of my time, you’d better plan to bring cigars and scotch.

Never bring a problem without a solution. Surprisingly enough, this happens more than you might think. If I have to do your job for you, then I don’t need you. Take the time to think through a recommended solution before you dump the problem on me. We’ll both be thankful later.

Be responsible. A big part of being a leader is taking ownership for both the good and the bad. That means taking the heat when things go wrong on your watch, not blaming it on someone else (or a subordinate).

Write well, write often. We can never write enough. The only sure way to ensure that your experiences outlive you it to write about them. Writing is also a great way to hone a critical skill, one that will help to build a professional reputation that will precede you everywhere you go.

Be heard. You should fall somewhere to the right on the spectrum between a wallflower and a spotlight ranger. Nobody notices a wallflower and nobody likes a spotlight ranger. Don’t be afraid to speak your opinion and do so with…

Facts, not emotions. No matter how passionate you are about a topic, leave the emotion out of the discussion. Stick to the facts, they drive decisions.

Candor. Tell me what I need to hear, not what you think I want to hear. I’m a big boy, I can take it.

Innovate. You can’t build a better mousetrap by using the same blueprint everyone else uses. Try new things, look for new solutions, push the envelope. Innovate, create, revolutionize.

Color outside the lines. Take risk. The smartest thing I ever wrote: “Risk is a potent catalyst that fuels opportunity.” Eight words that define my philosophy on risk. Everything we do in uniform comes down to building and sustaining momentum, seizing and retaining the initiative, and capitalizing opportunity. The spirit of the offense. It all boils down to a willingness to accept risk.

Be the “go-to” person. Always put forth your best effort in everything you do, whether it’s a major project or an information paper on advanced porta-potty installation. Your work ethic and quality of effort will be recognized. You’ll know you really are the best at what you do when other people tell you that you are. It really is that simple. 

There is also an eleventh, unlisted maxim on my list: Have a sense of humor. However, if you tell someone this too early, you could be unleashing the village idiot. Better to keep that one in the back pocket and encourage a little levity over time.