Men Who Lead Well

What Won Babe Heffron’s Respect

2012-01-24T15:53:00.000-08:00

Two summers ago I found myself at a book signing event seated alongside seven of the original Band of Brothers, the men of Easy Company who have become symbols of heroism in World War II.

I sat near the tail end of a long table. The men and I were on one side, and a crowd of well wishers on the other. The line of people in Pennsylvania that day waiting for autographs and to shake hands with the men stretched for—literally—an hour in the hot sun.

To my left sat William “Wild Bill” Guarnere, and to my right sat Edward “Babe” Heffron. To tell you I felt out of place between two legendary WWII heroes as well as with the rest of the men in that lineup is an understatement. But two of my books were there, being frequently passed down the line and signed by the vets. Thus I sat, scribbled my name, and kept my mouth shut.

After a few hours, Mr. Guarnere announced he’d had enough. He doesn’t sit well for long. Wild Bill gathered his crutches and left for beers with a woman half his age. He’s a colorful figure, which you know if ever you’ve seen him. A larger-than-life American hero.

Babe Heffron signed for the rest of the day, pausing only to debate baseball and curse anyone who wasn’t a Phillies fan. Babe is less flamboyant than Bill, and bluntly authentic, with never a hint of pretense to anyone in line.

We spoke directly a few times, Babe and me.

Babe asked who I was and why I was there. When I showed him my book, he raised an eyebrow. “Well, good for you,” he said, his voice like gravel.

When people in line kept calling him “Mr. Heffron,” and he kept saying, “Just call me Babe,” I said, “Mr. Heffron was your father’s name.” And Babe laughed. “That’s a good one,” he said. “I’ll have to remember that.”

After a dozen autograph seekers had looked disappointed and asked Babe where was “his good buddy Bill,” I said, “I’m curious if you get tired of being asked that.” And Babe grinned wryly. Bill and Babe are best of friends—(read their book)—but there was transparency in Babe’s eyes, too. You could tell that the same question repeated so many times had irked him.

I left the lineup early and went to secure a wheelchair for one of the vets who’d been having difficulty walking. I had been helping this man throughout the weekend of the event.

As I headed back to the signing table from the holding station where the wheelchairs were kept, Babe was already headed for the street, homeward bound. He was surrounded by well-wishers and he walked with confident, easy strides.

When he spotted me, he broke away, headed over to me and shook my hand, then kept going without another word.

I’d like to think we connected that day, a military hero and a young author, signing books together in the Pennsylvania summertime.

Yet I doubt if the connection was forged by the books or the jokes or even the deeper question I’d asked and Babe had been gracious enough to field.

Because there’s one more important thing to tell about that day. I think it’s what won Babe Heffron’s respect in the end. It speaks highly of the type of man he is, and the depth of brotherhoods he’s formed over the years.

And I mention this last bit of the story out of tribute to Babe, not me.

The man who helps Babe travel, a man who knows Babe well, pulled me aside and said, “Babe doesn’t do that, you know. He doesn’t shake hands like that with just anyone.”

“I wonder why he did that for me,” I asked, and shrugged.

The man pointed to the wheelchair. “Because you’re taking care of his friend.”

Question: What’s the best thing a friend has ever done for you?

A Perfectly Good Word

2012-01-17T15:16:00.000-08:00

Trends come and go in the commercial publishing industry. A while ago, everything was paradigm this and paradigm that. Then paradigm became overused, and any editor today will slash the word with his red pen. I encountered another editor who banned proactive and partnering as evil, bureaucratic words. Special, very and interesting are bland, colorless words that definitely needed to die.

Another despised word nowadays is discipline.

Yet that’s a word that needs to live. And I hope we don’t lose it—either in etymology or in practice.

Its fuller definition involves much more than putting a child in a timeout or sending a teen to the principal’s office. Discipline, in its truest form, is an activity that improves a skill. Success in business requires discipline. A gold medal hockey team is disciplined in its performance.

The challenge as an author is to sell discipline when modern publishers want you to put hip twists on things. Bestselling books are ripe with quick fixes, and, although the benefits of discipline are big, they are seldom felt immediately.

“Discipline—ugh!” an editor e-mailed me recently. “That’s your grandfather’s word. Discipline connotes pain. Can’t you find a better way to say what you mean?”

I pushed back on his counsel. The word might be stodgy, even pejorative, but I’m a fan of the word myself and of the concepts behind it.

Here’s what I mean. Sure, discipline involves pain. It’s not always comfortable or convenient. But pain is inevitable in life. And every man must pick the pain he’d rather have.

You either pick the pain of DISCIPLINE.

Or you pick the pain of REGRET.

There are no other options.

Consider the following:

· Discipline wakes a man at 6:30 a.m. to go for his 2 mile jog. It’s cold outside and dark, and he’d rather stay in bed. Sure, that’s painful.

· Regret lands him in the hospital at age 52 from a heart-attack.

· Discipline permits a man to let a stupid driver fly by him unimpeded on the freeway. Sure, it grates on a man’s ego. Hey—that louse needs to be taught a lesson. It takes restraint and a cool head to not floor it, swerve around that muttonhead, and flip him the bird.

· Regret lands both drivers in the morgue.

· Discipline installs filtering software on man’s computer. It’s inconvenient, sure, and might slow the computer. It might be embarrassing to explain why you want to safeguard your integrity like that.

· Regret sees a man’s self-respect disintegrate and his marriage fall apart.

Catch my drift? In this day and age of lighthearted masculinity and short-range living, it’s not popular anymore to advocate discipline. But you can’t avoid pain. You can only pick the one you want.

One pain is preemptive. The other operates in hindsight.

One pain moves a man forward. The other sets him back.

One is wise. The other is foolish.

Discipline: it’s a perfectly good word. Better than regret.

I say leave it in.

Question: What’s an example of a discipline that seems costly at the time, but in the end actually reaps big results?

An Unimagined Success

2012-01-10T09:43:00.000-08:00

How many times have we hoped for a specific type of success, only to have it elude us? We dream of being an Olympic sprinter, a prize-winning surgeon, or a writer of the great American novel.

But try as we might, the specific type of success we long for never comes.

Sgt. Joe Toye, one of the original Band of Brothers, fit this profile. The hardscrabble son of an Irish coalminer, Toye was a promising athlete, excelling at both boxing and football. But Toye’s father died when Toye was in 7^th grade, and Toye needed to drop out of school, go to work, and help feed the rest of the family.

He would never become a professional athlete. That dream was dead.

When WWII hit, Toye volunteered for the elite paratroopers and became a squad leader, a go-to organizer who always got the job done. He dreamed of a long-term career in the military, and he was just the type of man the Army was looking for.

Whenever the company commander needed a volunteer, Toye was first on the list. Volunteering for these missions required extreme bravery, but when called, Toye never hesitated.

Once, his company was pinned down in ditches outside Neunen, Holland. Their British tank support was being annihilated. The commander needed to find out what he was up against. He looked around, spotted Toye, and said, “Joe, I need a live prisoner.” Wordlessly, Toye left his squad, crept into no-man’s land, and came back with a prisoner from the 107^thPanzer Brigade.

Everything changed one wintery day in Bastogne. During a barrage of intense shelling, Toye was hit badly. He was evacuated to a hospital in London where his leg was amputated below the knee.

His military career was over. Another dream was dead.

After Toye came home, life was never the same. Toye was a big-hearted family man, but he also floundered in life. He drank too much. He fought. He struggled with nightmares from the war. He divorced and remarried. He drew some disability because of his missing leg, but not enough to support a family. He found work sharpening bits in a steel mine, where he stayed for more than 20 years until he retired.

Once, Toye remarked to his son that he didn’t feel like he had done much with his life. None of his dreams had ever come to pass.

Along the way, however, something unforeseen began to unfold.

Toye’s youngest son, Jonathan, was born with a severe birth defect. The son was mentally handicapped and couldn’t walk, talk, or feed himself. The boy’s condition hit Toye hard. There was no way a working family could care for the boy on a daily basis, so the son was placed in a home for special needs children, about an hour away from where the Toyes lived. Toye tried hard. He visited his son every chance he could.

After Toye retired from the steel mill, his handicapped son became everything. Each day, Toye spent hours with Jonathan, feeding him, cleaning his messes, talking with him, telling him he was proud of him.

Caring for his son became Toye’s life.

Jonathan wasn’t supposed to live much longer than childhood, but Jonathan had tough blood in him. Years passed. Toward the end, Toye’s goal became simply to outlive his son.

Jonathan died at age 32, three times longer than anyone thought he would live.

A year and a half after his son died, Joe Toye died too.

How strange: although we strive for a specific kind of success, it may never come. Instead, unexpected opportunities appear in our lives. Call these chances for unimagined greatness. Windows for living well.

“The point of life is not to just get by,” wrote St. Paul of Tarsus. “We want to live well, but our foremost efforts should be to help others live well.”

Using that criterion, I’d say Joe Toye was a tremendous success.

Question: What does it mean to be successful in life?

Big River

2012-01-03T15:27:00.000-08:00

At the start of a new year, your next 12 months are always unknown.

That’s why your next 12 months can be an adventure. As well as scary.

Will you win the lottery? Or will your house burn down?

You don’t know.

So what do you do? You plan. You leap boldly. You keep going forward. And you buy insurance.

Even then, with all your best planning efforts, the future is always unknown. Anything can still happen.

So what helps?

Consider Adam, the first man. In Adam’s beginning, all of his future was equally unknown to him. The one great thing Adam had going for him at the start of something new was an unparalleled connection with God.

At first, it was just Adam and God and a new world. A big river flowed through Eden, blue-brown and washy, and God and Adam walked alongside the river. They talked about fishing, I suppose—both marveling at the way the silver underside of a trout flashed when it jumped out of the water, caught the sunlight, and disappeared. It was a great connection to have: God and man both hiking beside the same big river. Walking. Talking.

The rest of Adam’s story is part drama, part dark comedy, part thriller. At first, Adam enjoyed everything a man could want. Then forbidden fruit was digested, and the universe crapped out a curse upon the world.

In the end, Adam traded life with a lithe, always-naked woman for an aging spouse clothed in grimy animal skins. He swapped a perfect job—animal namer—for the job of stump grinding and rock picking. Tragedy struck, and one of Adam’s sons murdered the other.

It wasn’t the best life, but even outside Eden, life wasn’t utterly horrible for Adam. One of his descendants, Jubal, was the first maker of music. At least there were songs around the campfire, stories in the night.

Ask yourself: what sustained Adam throughout the rest of his days, through good experiences as well as difficult?

Could it have been Adam’s memory? Any time the man wanted, Adam could think back to the beginning, to his walks alongside the river with God.

Because of that close connection, Adam was able to be truly grateful in the good times. He could be happy for all he worked for and gained. He could be thankful for what he’d been given and didn’t deserve. Correspondingly, in the bad times, Adam could cry out to Someone who listened. He could ask for and receive the favor of Providence. He could sing to God the Blues.

A similar invitation is ours—and it’s not to join a particular religion, denomination, or cause. Rather, it’s to consider the big river. In other words, whatever the next 12 months holds, it’s to connect deeply with God.

This connection is possible today, because God is closer than we think.

Faith presents the idea of another man who makes everything new—a child in a straw ox manger. He’s sometimes called “a second Adam.” Instead of a man who destroys relationships, this man makes all things right. Through this other man, a close connection with God is possible again for us.

Here’s the bold invitation this year: No matter what happens in the next 12 months—good or bad—remember what Adam remembered. Once there was a big river where God walked side by side with a man. That big river still flows today, in a manner of speaking. Through another means, the same God is still close.

May this be a year where we get our fishing poles, lace up our boots, and go for a walk.

Question: What do you look forward to most this upcoming year?

A Clear, Strong Mind

2011-12-27T13:01:00.000-08:00

The end of December offers a chief opportunity for self-evaluation. In the past 12 months, have you been on track toward sustainable long-term success?

One important area for self-evaluation is the maintenance of one of your greatest assets. You take care of your body, budget, and car. But do you also see the importance of the regular care and feeding of your mind? For a leader, a clear, strong mind is hugely important.

As you evaluate your past year, here are 4 key questions every leader must ask toward that aim:

Have you regularly taken at least 1 day off per week?

Everyone needs at least one day a week that allows a change of pace from regular work.

In this age of instant availability, it’s easy to be always at work, even though you’re not physically in the office. You’re constantly researching new products or checking e-mail, Twitter streams, client contact lists, or voice messages.

But an effective leader needs to have at least one day a week where his nose isn’t held to the grindstone. Preferably two.

An old adage says a man cannot do seven days’ work in seven days. But he can do seven days’ work in six days.

Have you regularly taken the time off you need?

Do you have at least 1 hobby?

The older you get, the harder it is to have hobbies. Other activities crowd in, and hobbies seem selfish or childish.

But the exact opposite is true. A healthy hobby allows your mind to recreate, recharge, and refresh. It allows you to be a better you.

Some leaders golf. Some run. Some ride dirt bikes or ski or play racquetball or strum a guitar.

It sounds a bit random, but I know a well-educated professional who carves tops—little wooden toys that kids spin around. A few years back he set up a woodworking lathe in a shop behind his house. Whenever the pressures of his job get too much, he goes out to his shop and carves wood.

Have you read at least 4 books you wanted to read?

Sixteen hours after the Twin Towers crumbled and fell, Rudy Giuliani, then mayor of New York City, stumbled home to get some rest. It was 2:30 a.m., but instead of sleeping, he opened Winston Churchill’s biography and began to read.

Giuliani was impressed with the people of his city, and believed they deserved a leader to match them. The Churchill he looked to for guidance was the Churchill of 1940. The man who led England through its darkest hour.

Leaders read books for growth, education, inspiration, entertainment, and advice.

A best practice is to read one book per season you truly want to read—4 books per year. Keep the book on your bedside table and read some each night. A book a month is even better.

Were you silent a portion of each day?

Some leaders always have the volume set to 11. It doesn’t matter if it’s the car radio, TV, IPod, or everyday conversations of life.

But part of a healthy life means allowing yourself space for contemplation. Silence is golden.

What good things would happen in your life if, once a day, you purposely turned everything off and gave your mind a rest?

Okay, how did you do?

The point is not to beat yourself up if you fell short in an area. But to be honest when evaluating yourself. Then set new goals and press forward.

A clear, strong mind is vital for long term success. How well are you taking care of yours?

Question: What are other good ways you take care of your mind?

How Beautiful the Boring Games You Played as a Child

2011-12-20T14:09:00.000-08:00

“So, Dad,” said my 8-year-old daughter, Addy. “What are you going to get me for Christmas?”

“A stick, a cardboard box, and an old potato,” I said with an absolutely straight face.

“Hmm,” she said. “That doesn’t sound like much fun—except for the cardboard box.”

Addy grinned in seriousness. The child can transform a box into anything. Her life is presently immersed in Barbies, and over the past season, for her collection of dolls, she’s constructed a schoolhouse, a theater, a restaurant, and an airplane—all made from cardboard boxes.

Oh sure, she enjoys her share of pre-made toys. Under the tree this year she’ll find plenty of new ones. Electronic whatzits and online whozits and fantastical contraptions that screech and boogie and leap and croon.

Yet mistake not the quiet call of a cardboard box in a child’s life.

When a kid can create her own fun, as a parent I respect that.

I respect it a lot.

Dewitt Lowrey, one of the original Band of Brothers, was telling me about the games he played as a kid growing up in Alabama during the Great Depression. One was called Mama Pig.

“You took an old Barlow knife with three blades and put the littlest blade in the ground,” Lowrey explained. “Then you tried to flip it to make the knife stick on the big blade.”

Clear joy filled his voice when he told me about Mama Pig. The game sparked a recollection, a remembrance of simpler times.

But then he shook it off and added, “Oh, but it would be far too dull for kids to play today.”

Maybe, I thought. But maybe not.

When my wife was a kid in the 1970s growing up in Ventura, California, she and a neighborhood friend created their own game called “Hide From Cars.” When I asked Mary to explain the game she shrugged nonchalantly.

“Well, that was it,” she said. “Cars came down the road, and we hid from them. It was a hoot.”

I understood perfectly. During winters in Canada when I was a boy, I chopped ice off the big rocks in our backyard. It must have appeared dull compared to anything you’d find in a store. Nothing to plug in or make noise. No lights or bells, whistles or scores. A real dud in the grand scheme of games.

But, oh it was exhilarating. Can you picture it?

You grabbed the ax firmly and went chop, chop, chip.

The ice slid off in slabs.

Sometimes when you swung your ax against the ice, the ice groaned and fought back. But you drove the ax down again harder, and up sparked a shower of powder. The wind whistling off the lake caught the fine frozen particles and carried them north into unknowingness. You felt shivery but powerful. It was your ax that broke through the blockage. Your sweat.

In the hands of a 10-year-old boy, you couldn’t buy a game that made you feel so grand.

I believe that every generation, no matter how much we insist we’re different from other generations, is basically the same. When we’re kids, we all enjoy our self-made games. Those games get placed into the enormous blender of who we become, the mixture of wonder and mystery, creativity and color.

How beautiful our boring games. Our cardboard boxes. Our Mama Pigs. Our Hide From Cars.

Maybe they are not so boring after all.

This Christmas, let more of those games begin.

Question: What “boring” games did you play when you were a kid?

The Ease—and Difficulty—of Consistent Excellence

2011-12-13T08:28:00.000-08:00

In the 1980s, an 18-year-old named Steve Fonyo made big headlines in Canada, where I grew up. Fonyo lost his leg to cancer, then committed to run across the country to raise money for cancer research.

It was an ambitious goal. Fonyo started at the Atlantic Ocean and headed west. Day after day he slogged on, dodging prairie blizzards and running on a specially-designed prosthetic leg.

After 14 months, Fonyo dipped his leg into the Pacific. The nation cheered; $13 million was raised. Fonyo was awarded the Order of Canada, the country’s second-highest honor.

With his huge goal completed, Fonyo seemed unsure what to do next. Sadly, his life took a turn for the worse.

In later years Fonyo again made big headlines, but this time it was for alcohol and drug abuse. He struggled to hold a job. He struggled relationally. He faced numerous criminal charges, including assault with a deadly weapon, fraud, and theft. In December 2009, his membership in the Order of Canada was revoked.

An important lesson can be learned from the downside of Fonyo’s life. Setting and completing a huge goal is a noble undertaking. But the real challenge is to live with consistent excellence, day in, day out, one day after the next.

How do you live with consistent excellence?

Some say the key, whenever you complete a goal, is immediately to set another. Success emerges when mountaintops are connected. A good life is an endless string of aiming for the next big thing.

Sure, there’s much merit to repeated goal setting. Yet I believe consistent excellence comes in a quieter way—when you remind yourself daily of the core reasons that you live for, and then make choices with those reasons in mind.

Think of these core reasons as the foundational motivations that keep you going in good directions. Have you ever defined your core reasons for living? The criterion for identifying them is straightforward. Just ask, “What’s most important?”

If you’re seeking to define your core, below is an example, mine. Your list will undoubtedly look different, but perhaps this list will provide ideas for what’s most important to you as well.

My top 5:

1. GOD. I want to please God in everything I do. Sure, I believe in grace—that God loves unconditionally and offers unmerited favor. But I also believe my actions can tick him off. I don’t want to do that.

2. SELF. Self-respect is everything. By “self” I don’t mean to elevate my position. It’s just that each morning when I look in the mirror, I don’t want to look at an idiot. My actions and choices can go a long way (or not) toward who I am, and become.

3. SPOUSE. I want to have the best possible marriage I can have. My wife is the babealicious love of my life, and I need to be consciously aware of nurturing that vitally important relationship.

4. KIDS. I want to be a good model for my children. I need to live wisely so I can speak into their lives. I don’t want them ever to lose confidence in me as a father.

5. WORK. When it comes to my career, I want every available opportunity. If I make wiser choices, then the more my career will benefit, and (hopefully) the more people I can help educate, inform, and inspire (my core reasons for writing).

I go through this list in my mind every morning. It’s like taking a vitamin pill. It sounds like such a simple plan, and it is. I simply remind myself daily of the five main things that keep me going.

Do you want to live with consistent excellence?

Define what motivates you. And then live with that in mind, day after day.

You can do this.

You and me and Fonyo—we’ve all got what it takes.

Question: what are your core values, and how do you remind yourself of them—and live with them in mind—on a consistent basis?

Know the Crow Code

2011-12-08T19:40:00.000-08:00

SPECIAL SERIES: YOUR BEST JOB NOW, PART 5 OF 5

I’ve been blogging every day this week in a special series titled, “Your Best Job Now.”

Today’s topic: The one skill that trumps all others.

What’s the most important job skill you can have?

A strong work ethic?

A hunger for constant learning?

The ability to develop a thick list of network contacts?

Perhaps. But I’m going to suggest that the most important skill you can have at work is knowing and living by something called the Crow Code.

This code isn’t original with me. I gleaned it from a colleague, Shaun Blakeney. Several years ago we wrote a book together about maturity for young men. The code is something he first learned more than 20 years ago.

I’ll let Shaun tell the story in his own words:

During my senior year of high school, I worked as a dishwasher at a noodle-and-soy restaurant.

Washing dishes is seldom fun. Plus in this restaurant they used all these sauces and stuff, so it was even grosser.

But the strangest part of the job was this—

One day two cooks were hanging outside in back of the restaurant, and one cook spotted a crow flying by.

Right there behind the restaurant he whipped out a shotgun and blasted away. KA-BLAM!

In no time flat, the crow was defeathered, sliced, diced, and sizzling in a pot.

The two cooks ate it right then on the spot, spitting shotgun shells out whenever they crunched on one. No lie.

So what’s the Crow Code?

It’s that your work can be full of crazy things. And if your job is completely wacky, then at very least you’ll have some hilarious stories to tell twenty years later.

Knowing that can help keep you sane at the nuttiest of times.

Okie doke, today’s post was for fun.

But there’s vital seriousness to it too.

Keeping a good sense of humor in an incredibly important job skill. Some would say it’s the most important skill of all. It can help you survive and thrive in any job situation.

Have a good Friday, everyone.

Read the rest of this series:

Part 1: Gleaning theGold from Your List of Jobs

Part 2: Five Ways toTell if Your Job is a Good Fit
Part 3: Three Surprising Realities of Where You Work
Part 4: Ten Strategies to Survive and Thrive at Your Job

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Question: What’s the craziest thing that’s ever happened at a place you’ve worked?

10 Strategies to Survive and Thrive at Your Job

2011-12-07T19:45:00.000-08:00

SPECIAL SERIES: YOUR BEST JOB NOW, PART 4 OF 5

I’m blogging every day this week in a special series titled, “Your Best Job Now.”

Today’s topic: Strategies for success at your current job.

You might have been hired yesterday. You might have been hired 10 years ago. In a downed economy, your performance is more crucial than ever.

At the same time, your job isn’t meant to be a pressure cooker either—at least not endlessly. It’s where you’ll spend an important third of your life. You want to not just survive at work, but thrive.

How can you do both? How can you demonstrate to your boss that you’re a valuable commodity, without getting an ulcer or tearing your hair out?

Here are 10 strategies to survive and thrive:

Study your job description. Make sure you know what you signed on to do and not do. Don’t be afraid to clarify your boundaries. If babysitting your boss’s pet St. Bernard seems suspect to you, don’t be afraid to ask your supervisor if that’s what’s actually expected.

Expand your skill set. New innovations are coming down the pike at the speed of a mouse click. Everyone constantly needs to rethink how we do things and why. Attend seminars. Read books. Study your craft. Get the degrees and certifications to stay current.

Be humble. Cockiness is seldom appreciated at a workplace,. Keep quiet, learn the way things are done, and choose your personal crusades very carefully. Don’t expect stardom overnight. And never criticize your company, fellow employees, your boss—at least out loud.

Own up to mistakes. Everybody makes them. It’s okay to do so, but take responsibility for it when it happens. Treat mistakes as opportunities to get wiser.

Take time off. Plan for a sustainable pace, particularly if your job is in an industry you’re interested in long-term. How can you be doing this job (or be in this industry) a year from now, or ten years from now? Don’t be afraid to really enjoy your weekends. You cannot afford to not take a day off.

Commit to time on. At the same time, don’t be afraid to burn the midnight oil, particularly in your early years.

Respect everyone. Be polite and professional to everybody—even if he or she is the low dog. This means junior associates, porters, doormen, secretaries, assistants, valet parkers, and busboys. Not only is it the cool thing to do, but in many industries, job turnover is high and people get promoted quickly. If you’re nice to a junior associate, he may well be a senior associate soon. Things will go better for you if you were respectful of him when he was the low dog.

Dress the part. If your company’s look is corporate casual, don’t show up in either blue jeans or a suit. Fit into the culture of your workplace.

Don’t surf the net on company time. Yep.

Never embarrass your boss. Enough said.

Find this blog helpful?

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Read the rest of this series:

Part 1: Gleaning theGold from Your List of Jobs

Part 2: Five Ways toTell if Your Job is a Good Fit
Part 3: Three Surprising Realities of Where You Work
Part 5: Know the Crow Code

Question: What’s the most important piece of advice you’ve ever learned about surviving and thriving at work?

3 Surprising Realities of Where You Work

2011-12-06T20:15:00.000-08:00

SPECIAL SERIES: YOUR BEST JOB NOW, PART 3 OF 5

I’m blogging every day this week in a special series titled, “Your Best Job Now.”

Today’s topic: What can you actually expect at work?

When you train for a job, usually the bulk of training focuses on how to do the job.

But seldom does anyone train you to understand the culture surrounding employment.

What can you actually expect at work? Well, usually you need to figure that out for yourself. But there is help.

Talk to people in your industry who’ve been there longer than you, or network with people in other professions to see what it’s like on the other side of the fence.

You’ll be surprised to discover similarities that creep up in every profession.

That sense of discovery is key.

Knowledge is power, and having a clear idea of what to expect can help you successfully navigate what comes at you daily at work.

Here are 3 realities you can expect in almost any job:

1. You’ll seldom like all your co-workers.

At any workplace, you’ll find dogish managers, gossipy co-workers, cranky secretaries, or supervisors who’re flat-out louts. Yep, it happens.

Ever see the old TV show WKRP in Cincinnati? There are plenty of real-life Herb Tarleks and Les Nessmans in the world. Your workplace is bound to have a few.

The key is to be warm, considerate, and professional to all. You don’t need to be best friends with coworkers. You just need to work alongside them.

2. You’ll work at some tasks that are just plain drudgery.

And there are a ton of those tasks out there.

A ton.

A friend with a finance degree got a job for a brokerage firm. You’d think that would be a sweet gig. But what does he do all day? He pours through endless lists, cold-calling potential clients. It means eight solid hours a day of being told no. How’s that for a fun time?

He reminds himself that he’s got a job, and that it won’t be like this forever.

3. You might make less money than you deserve.

My first career job paid roughly half the industry standard. I took the job anyway. I didn’t take it for the money. I took it because the job was a good position where I knew I’d learn a lot.

The reality of low wages happens at a lot of jobs. Nobody likes to part with their money, including employers, and someone, somewhere, some place in the same industry you’re in, will inevitably be making more than you.

Successfully negotiating a fair wage is a good thing. So if you’re getting less money than you deserve, it might mean you need to talk to your boss and ask for a raise.

Or it might mean you need to follow the money elsewhere.

But often it’s in your best interest to stay put. A job might have other perks. Sometimes it’s simply enough to know in your gut you’re worth more, and leave it at that.

Some of this list might sound like a downer, but it’s actually meant to be empowering. When you know what to expect, you’re less surprised at what you find in your job culture, and you can take things in stride.

Knowing and understanding the culture surrounding your work place is essential to survive and thrive in your career.

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Read the rest of this series:

Part 1: Gleaning theGold from Your List of Jobs

Part 2: Five Ways toTell if Your Job is a Good Fit
Part 4: Ten strategies to Survive and Thrive at Your Job
Part 5: Know the Crow Code

Question: What surprising realities have you noticed where you work (either now or at a previous job)?

5 Ways to Tell if Your Job is a Good Fit

2011-12-05T20:36:00.000-08:00

SPECIAL SERIES: YOUR BEST JOB NOW, PART 2 OF 5

I’m blogging every day this week in a special series titled, “Your Best Job Now.”

Today’s topic: How to tell if a job is right for you.

In a downed economy, any job might make a good fit.

But many times a leader will want to evaluate a job—either the job he’s in, or a job he’s considering—to make sure it’s a good fit.

Over the past years I’ve developed a checklist of 5 ways to evaluate a job.

For easy recall, the checklist follows the acronym P*A*P*E*R.

When it comes to a job, look for:

P—PROVISION

A paycheck is a huge reason for working. Does a job provide for your financial needs?

If you don’t get paid enough at a job, and you aren’t able to scale back your lifestyle, it will become difficult to remain in that position over the long haul.

You might need to raise your skills so your value rises to your employer. Or perhaps it’s time to look for another line of work.

A—APTITUDE

Aptitude means you can do a job, (or you can learn to do a job), and your temperament is suited for the work.

You might want to be a fighter pilot, but you wear glasses as thick as Coke bottles. That cancels out the aptitude question. Or you might work as a trial room attorney, but you find you have no stomach for confrontation. Not a good fit.

You have natural and learned talents, abilities, propensities, and preferences—all those factor into how you are able to do a job.

P—PARTNERSHIP

It’s easy to think only of yourself when it comes to a job. But a wise leader factors in what his spouse thinks about a job situation too.

If you love a job but your wife hates it, (or vice versa), it probably won’t be a long term fit.

For single people, this is still something to consider as you evaluate a job or career direction.

With some jobs, it’s virtually impossible to do the job well and have a family. For instance, a friend works as a military contractor and is gone overseas for up to two years at a time. He’s often forbidden to disclose his whereabouts or even to have contact back home. That makes it tough to be an effective husband and father.

When seeking a job, factor in the partnership equation. Will this job allow you to handle your responsibilities at home and enjoy your family?

E—EXCITEMENT

Being passionate about a job is a good thing. If you absolutely hate a job, chances are it won’t be a good fit long-term.

You might not love everything about a job, but maybe you’re excited about what you’ll learn there, or the opportunities it provides, or where it might lead. That’s fine.

Similarly, sometimes a job carries a level of excitement only for a season, and then the excitement wanes.

If you’re not excited about your job, that may be your nudge to seek something new.

R—REASON

Last, but perhaps most importantly, does this job matter? Are you doing a good work? Does it affect people in positive ways?

If you see your job as purposeless, it will be hard to sustain over time. But if you see your work as purposeful, it can help overcome other difficult factors that may be present in a job.

The most satisfying jobs will have all 5 factors present.

Sometimes that’s not possible, of course, and concessions need to be made.

Still, it’s good to know what you’re getting yourself into. Or what you need to get yourself out of.

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Read the rest of this series:

Part 1: Gleaning the Gold from Your List of Jobs

Part 3: Three Surprising Realities of Where You Work
Part 4: Ten strategies to Survive and Thrive at Your Job
Part 5: Know the Crow Code

Question: What’s your job right now? Do you consider it a good fit? Why or why not?

Gleaning the Gold from Your List of Jobs

2011-12-04T18:18:00.000-08:00

SPECIAL SERIES: YOUR BEST JOB NOW, PART 1 OF 5

I’ll be blogging every day this week in a special 5-part series titled “Your Best Job Now.” The idea is for us as leaders to examine our jobs, where we’ve been and where we’re heading, so we can survive and thrive in our best occupational callings.

Today’s topic: What you learn from where you’ve been.

There’s gold in them there hills, but if you’re not working at a job you love, it can be difficult to see the bright flecks in the bottom of your pan.

You might be elbow deep in soap suds while washing dishes, or making tiny check marks in a room full of cubicles.

Whatever your position of employment, if what you’re doing is not your dream job, then you’ll be wondering if better times are ahead.

Here’s one action step that can provide perspective and direction.

Find someone you know who’s working in a job he enjoys. Invite him out to coffee. Get him to list all the jobs he’s ever had. Then ask him how his previous jobs prepared him for the position he’s in today.

You’re bound to hear some great stories and receive some great encouragement.

For instance, here’s a quick look at my job history:

· As a kid I mowed lawns.

· Throughout high school I had a paper route.

· In college I worked construction and was a janitor.

· Several summers I worked at camp.

· I did two internships after college.

· Throughout grad school I waited tables.

· My first career job was youth director at a church.

· I switched careers and became a newspaper reporter. To help make ends meet, I freelanced as a book editor. Book work gradually encompassed my newspaper job.

· In 2005 I made the jump to full-time book writer and started my own editorial company. My occupation today is author-editor, and I love it.

No matter who you ask about his job history, here are 3 patterns you’re bound to see:

1. THE PROCESS IS AS IMPORTANT AS THE DESTINATION

By the time you finally do what you want to do, you’ve done a lot of other things along the way. Relax, work hard, learn all you can, and be patient. Being a waiter was never my dream job, but I learned tons there about working with people. I’m a more effective writer today because I once worked in restaurants.

2. THE LONG LINE IS INEVITABLE

Dues need to be paid. On the road to your dream job, there’s a long line of getting your education or training, figuring things out, doing stuff that’s less than you hoped, getting paid less than what you think you deserve, making contacts, and learning and re-learning your industry’s ropes—all the stuff that goes into creating a career.

3. THERE ARE BRIGHT SPOTS ALONG THE WAY

No matter what your job is, even if you hate it, chances are good that you’ll get to do a few cool things there, things you might not been able to dream up had you not had the position. As a reporter, I met all kinds of colorful people. When I was a youth director, I lived a high-octane life full of skiing, laser tag, rock climbing, and international service trips. When I was a waiter, I once toured the inner workings of a funeral home, (a long, zany story I’ll tell you about some other time).

No matter what your prior jobs are, they have helped you become who you are today. What’s on your list? When you look over all the jobs you’ve done, you’re bound to find gold.

The question to ask is what can you learn from where you’ve been, and how will this affect where you head next?

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Read the rest of this series:

Part 2: Five Ways to Tell if Your Job is a Good Fit

Part 3: Three Surprising Realities of Where You Work

Part 4: Ten strategies to Survive and Thrive at Your Job

Part 5: Know the Crow Code

Question: What’s one job you had in your past, and how did it help you become who you are today?

The Importance of Six Leprosy Patients

2011-11-29T10:00:00.000-08:00

In many leadership situations, numbers matter. They do. And these days, it’s easier than ever to locate numbers and quickly see how you stack up. But what do you do when your numbers look bleak?

You might be advertising a product that isn’t selling. Or you’ve written a book that’s poorly promoted. Or you’re speaking to smaller circles than hoped. Or you have less online influence than imagined.

My first job out of college was youth director at a church. Part of the job meant planning events. We’d host a Saturday barbecue, or a weekend of rock climbing. These events usually went well. But once in a while—for reasons unexplained—we got a bafflingly low turnout.

Blame it on lousy weather. Blame it on crossed communication channels. Blame it on apathy, boredom, or fickleness on behalf of my students. I’d have Frisbees stacked and waiting. Cheeseburgers would be sizzling on the grill. A full roster of youth staff would be on hand to help out. But only five kids would show up.

Whenever that happened, I felt the normal gamut of emotions—disappointment, anger, confusion, fear. Hey, this event is good for your development. Not to mention that my job is on the line!

Leadership experts say determination is the answer. Rather than bemoan low numbers, make failure a mentor. Study what went wrong, figure out how to do things better or smarter next time, then try again.

I agree. Whining about low numbers accomplishes nothing. The wise leader rolls up his sleeves, gets wiser, and presses on. That’s the solution.

But sometimes—and this is where things get tricky—sheer determination isn’t the answer. You’ve actually done your best. Bases were covered. You gave it your all. Yet, for whatever mysterious reasons, the results were still lower than expected.

What then?

In the 1980s, journalist Philip Yancey travelled to India to interview Dr. Paul Brand, the prestigious orthopedic surgeon. Brand had revolutionized hand reconstruction techniques from his painstaking years of working with leprosy patients. In addition to Brand’s work in the hospital, he sometimes preached in the small chapel on the grounds of the leprosy sanatorium.

Yancey noted that Dr. Brand approached his message preparation like he approached every aspect of his career—with utmost sincerity, drive, and zeal. Brand would study for hours on end—sweating and squinting long into the night—to prepare and later deliver a flawless message described as besting any given by the world’s top cathedral orators.

The remarkable thing, Yancey wrote, was that the only people who ever heard these messages were half a dozen leprosy patients.

Did you catch that?

Hours of preparation time.

To speak to six leprosy patients.

Why.

Always, what matters is the individual person, Dr. Brand explained to Yancey. It doesn’t matter if you’re speaking to crowds of thousands, or to a room of six. It’s always the individual whose life is touched.

Always the individual.

Perhaps that perspective helps when numbers are low. Maybe not to your boss or bank account. But to your own soul.

Yes, you’re in a position where numbers matter. You need to reach as large a crowd as possible. You’re calling depends on it.

But here’s the encouragement: if you’ve planned a barbecue and only five students show up, those five individuals matter greatly.

Grab the Frisbees, and go big with the five you have.

Question: Have you ever experienced lower numbers than planned? How did you respond?

Book Contest Winners Announced

2011-11-27T20:17:00.000-08:00

A huge thank you goes to everyone who entered this recent book give-away contest. I had lots of fun reading everyone’s comments about Thanksgiving. Thanks also to everyone for reading my books and blog. Much appreciated!

And now for the news we’ve all been waiting for. Drum roll please….

The contest winners are:

*** CARLTON LOWRY

You’ve won the GRAND PRIZE. A complete author-signed collection of three of my books: We Who Are Alive & Remain, A Company of Heroes, and Shifty’s War.

* DUSTIN RIBERGAARD

You’ve won the RUNNER UP prize. One author-signed copy of my newest book, Shifty’s War

Dustin and Carlton, please send me your mailing address via e-mail at:

marcus [at] marcusbrotherton [dot] com

[at = @]

[dot = .]
[no spaces]

And I’ll get the books out to you right away.

Thanks again everyone. Here’s kicking off a great holiday season!

Big Book Giveaway Contest

2011-11-21T17:08:00.000-08:00

I want to say a huge THANK YOU to you, faithful readers, by holding a book giveaway contest.

*** The GRAND PRIZE WINNER will receive a complete author-signed collection of three of my books: We Who Are Alive & Remain, A Company of Heroes, and Shifty’s War.

* The RUNNER UP will receive one author-signed copy of my newest book, Shifty’s War.

You may have already bought these books (many thanks if you did), yet I encourage you to enter the contest anyway. The books are great to add to any collection or to give away as gifts.

Important:

1) To enter, simply write a comment in this blog posting below with YOUR FIRST AND LAST NAME and ONE THING YOU’RE THANKFUL FOR. No hoops to jump through--that’s all there is to it. (Note: If you’re reading this post via Feedblitz or a RSS feed, you’ll probably need to go directly to my website www.marcusbrotherton.com to do this.)

2) Contest closes Sunday November 27, at 8 p.m. PST. Any comments received after that will not be counted.

3) I’ll put all names into a hat and randomly draw two winners—the grand prize winner first and then the runner up.

4) I’ll announce the names of winners on a blog post here on Monday, November 28. The winners can e-mail me with their mailing addresses, and I’ll get the books out to them right after that.

5) Both domestic and international entries are welcome. (The last person who won a book from me lived in the UK).

That’s it.

Thanks again everybody. Here’s kicking off a great holiday season.

Difficult Decisions Made Easier

2011-11-15T09:52:00.000-08:00

A few years back, a kid in our church, (I’ll call him Tommy), got his girlfriend pregnant, then manned up and married her. They were both young, maybe 19. She was training to be a hairdresser. He was taking a few courses in community college.

Days after the wedding, Tommy appeared at my front door, bucket and brush in hand. “Wash your windows?” Tommy asked. “I just started my own business. Forty bucks.”

I said yes. My panes undoubtedly needed a scrub. But my real motivation was helping him out.

A week later I was having lunch with an older businessman who also knew Tommy. “So, did Tommy come by your house?” he asked.

“Yeah. I hired him.”

“He came by my house, too,” the businessman said. “But I told him no.”

I asked why. The businessman was known for his big-heartedness.

“Because Tommy doesn’t know beans about running his own business,” the businessman said, “and now isn’t the right time for him to learn. What Tommy needs right now is to buckle down and get a full time job.”

This man ran one of the largest building supply depots in the county. In those days, jobs could be had fairly easily at the supply yard, if only Tommy asked.

It took me awhile before I fully grasped this businessman’s strange strategy for ultimately helping Tommy succeed. Starting a business isn’t easy. You’ve got to master the disciplines of working for yourself, including building a clientele list, marketing to keep enough projects coming in, retaining a customer base, and much more.

Both the businessman and I wanted the best for Tommy, and we admired Tommy’s gumption. But the businessman was right. Perhaps if Tommy had started his cleaning business on the side and built it up, things would be different. But if Tommy’s only income came from a brand new window washing business, then there was no way he was going to be able to support his family.

Have you ever found yourself in a similar season?

You have good intentions in going one direction, but what you really need to do is go a different direction, a slightly more responsible direction, if you’re going to truly succeed.

My wife and I recently experienced a season like that. In the course of four months, we were swarmed with a barrage of unforeseen bills. Big bills. Crazy bills. Bills that bled through the mail. Lumped together, these bills equaled almost three months’ salary.

We tightened our belts, and cut out doodads. But enough was enough. I needed to do what I needed to do.

I cut loose my Kawasaki.

I should mention I loved this motorbike. I had dreamed about owning it for years before I finally did. My dear wife and I had agreed that having a hobby would be good for me, and I had owned the bike for only a year.

But at the end of the day, it just wasn’t the right season of life for me to have a hobby that took that amount of money out of the family budget. I posted my motorbike on Craigslist, and it sold within two days.

The decision came fairly easy after I realized sometimes a leader needs to take one for the team.

He voluntarily inconveniences himself for the sake of the greater good.

He buckles down and gets a full time job, even though he wants the freedom of working for himself.

He sells his motorbike, though he longs for the open trail.

Question: In what ways have you ever needed to buckle down, and how did it ultimately benefit you in the end?

What Forrest Guth Never Said from his Foxhole

2011-11-08T09:42:00.000-08:00

“Do what you love, and love what you do.”

How many times have you heard that—or a variation of it?

The principle abounds in leadership teaching. To be a truly successful leader, you need to discover your passion and operate only from that grid. Spend your days doing what you’re most interested in. Discover your passion and thrive doing what you do best.

The principle is true if passion is defined as an overall sense of purpose.

But the principle becomes problematic if passion is defined as only aiming for life’s sweet spot.

I don’t know about you, but there have been plenty of times I’ve been called to lead where I’m not doing what I love, and I’m not loving what I’m doing. I’ve been exhausted, frustrated, burned out, angry, or discouraged. I’ve needed to lead from duty, responsibility, will power, or necessity.

Enter a simple principle, one that’s so powerful it trumps the narrower definition of passion. When you lead from this principle, you’re not worried about having bad days, getting your needs met, or always loving what you’re doing.

The principle is willingness.

Forrest Guth (1921-2009) and me at the 2008 Easy Co reunion.

Forrest Guth, one of the original Band of Brothers, embodied this principle after jumping into Holland for Operation Market Garden. Seconds out of the plane, he discovered to his horror that his parachute hadn’t fully inflated. Guth streamed through the sky, flailing. The men had jumped too low to open reserve chutes. Desperately, Guth tried to smooth out his silk. No success.

Guth thudded into the dirt and was knocked out cold. When he came to, his back and leg were paralyzed. Medics hauled him to a cattle barn where he lay for two days until the line moved up. They put him in a jeep, carted him to the rear, and put him on a plane to a hospital in England.

Guth was bedridden for weeks. Gradually, some feeling returned to his leg and back. But his fighting days were over. Doctors gave him the wonderful news that his injuries were sufficient to be discharged from the military. His wounds were his golden ticket home.

Home.

That was Guth’s place of passion. Home meant apple pie and girlfriends, hot food, clean sheets, and Glen Miller on the radio.

Guth could hop the next plane for America.

But—get this—Guth said no.

Of his own volition, he limped out of the hospital to rejoin his unit, just as they were heading into Bastogne, one of the coldest, bloodiest, and most miserable battles of history.

Why?

“I couldn’t leave my friends,” Guth said. “There was more work to be done.”

Some might argue that the battle, not home, was Guth’s true place of passion. He was passionate about serving his buddies in their greatest time of need.

I’ll agree with that.

But—and here’s the core of the point I want to make—when Guth was huddled in a foxhole with his feet frostbitten, his stomach growling, the water in his canteen frozen, and artillery shells exploding all around him blowing his friends to bits, did Guth ever smile and say, “Y’know, I just love this place, and love what I’m doing here.”?

No way.

If we define passion as always loving what we’re doing, then we need to broaden our definition of passion, because success in leadership is certainly not about feeling good all the time.

Another historical leader, St. Paul of Tarsus, put it this way: “Be leaders, not because you must, but because you’re willing.”

That’s what’s needed.

Willingness.

When the battle isn’t over, willingness gets things done.

Question: have you ever been in a place you needed to be, yet it was still difficult? What did you do to go on?

When You're Torn Between Work and Home

2011-11-01T10:12:00.000-07:00

In my profession, part of my job means actually doing my job.

And part of my job also means lining up the next job.

With book collaborations, I’ve done enough by now that my canon of material usually speaks for itself. But every so often, particularly the more famous an author is who’s seeking a collaborative writer, I still need to “audition” for the part. They check me out to see if they want to work with me. It’s how this business is done.

So when my agent phoned about a possible collaboration with a number one draft pick, multi-Super-Bowl-winning, hall-of-famer, ultra-famous, ex-Dallas Cowboys quarterback who wanted to write his memoir, and the absolute only possible date and time this author and his team of agents were able to meet for a conference call was April 30, 2008, at 2:30 p.m., I said yes.

Problem.

My one and only beloved son, Zachary Justus Brotherton, was scheduled to make his grand entrance via induced labor on April 28, 2008, and my wife and I were set to spend two nights in the hospital.

The dude, in all his glory.

That meant we’d be bringing home our newborn at the exact same time as the conference call.

What takes priority? Work or home?

Ever been there?

I made a good case in my mind for the conference call. It was important. Mighty important. Being responsible meant I needed to bring home the bacon, and being present and mentally sharp for this conference call was an integral part of that process.

But I also made a good case for being fully there for my wife and son. A whopping good case. Good grief, this was a once-in-a-lifetime event.

What did I choose?

Both.

Yep. I figured I could squeeze `em in together.

Now, say it with me men, loud and clear: newborns—and mothers who’ve just given birth, (despite their overall high level of support for their husband’s work)—just can’t be rushed.

Say it!

Just. Can’t. Be. Rushed.

So there I was on April 30, glancing at my watch every five minutes like an idiot, helping my wife into a wheelchair, strapping my son into his car seat, snapping pictures, tapping my foot.

Bah.

I drove my wife home, tucked her into bed, and then she needed me to go pick up a prescription for pain medication. Right now, please.

The clock was ticking. The time for the call was moments away.

That’s when I nearly lost it. I hadn’t slept in two days. None of us had. And I needed to be in my office, on a landline with notes on my computer in front of me, and I NEEDED to take this call. Now!

But

My wife was in pain.

See the problem?

I drove to the pharmacy. I picked up her prescription. I sat in the parking lot with my cell phone. I took the call there. And then I raced home.

Not my best audition. Or my best moment as a husband.

No, I didn’t get the job.

Here’s wisdom. The Reverend Billy Graham, when asked in his old age if there was anything he would have done differently throughout the very significant life he’s led, said he regretted not spending more time with his family. You don’t need to accept every invitation that comes your way, Dr. Graham said, or be absent from home so much.

Today, I hope I’m wiser than three years ago.

When it comes to having an important conference call on the same day my newborn son comes home from the hospital,

I should have let that project go.

Question: how have you found a balance between work and home?

Strategic Planning

2011-10-25T09:54:00.000-07:00

At the end of October, 2009, I spent the weekend in Columbus, Ohio, at the 63rd annual reunion of the Men of Easy Company. We held a book signing at a nearby Barnes & Noble, then enjoyed a banquet back at the hotel.

On the morning I was set to leave, I was down in the hotel atrium waiting for the shuttle bus to take me back to the airport. It was about 6 a.m., and one of the original E Co men, Paul “Hayseed” Rogers, then age 91, was already up and getting his exercise, walking laps in the lobby.

Paul approached me, and we shook hands to say goodbye. We spoke for a few minutes and he said, “You know, Marcus, this will be about the last of these reunions I ever attend. Maybe I’ve got one more in me, but probably by next year I’ll be gone.”

I was silent, not knowing how to answer. Then I asked the only thing I could think, “Are you ready, Paul? Are you ready to go?”

He thought for a moment, smiled, and said, “Yeah, I’ve had a good life. I have wonderful friends. I’m ready.”

The shuttle bus was leaving. It was time for me to go to the airport. That’s the last thing that was said between us.

As of this writing, Paul Rogers has bested his prediction. He’s still alive and smiling. Still, that question remains—for Paul, for me, for all of us. The question looms like a visit from the goon squad. We all need to face death sometime, somewhere, as best we know how.

My wife needed surgery this past summer. It wasn’t life-threatening, and she’s healed now. But we used that experience as a catalyst to get our house in order, so to speak. We redid our wills and updated our life insurance, all those practical death-oriented things you never want to take care of because it feels too morbid. Although once you do, you’re relieved. You feel like a responsible grownup. Certainly that’s part of how people answer the readiness question.

But, sure, the question involves more. Death doesn’t care how people classify themselves—spiritual, atheist, agnostic. Like a thief in a home invasion, death kicks through the front door and whacks us across the face. Surely the prospect of eternal existence lies at the core of this question. If God is real, are we ready to face him? Some spin the wheel and hope for the best. Others hold to nothingness—that it’s just a vast blackness of oblivion on the other side.

Jim 'Moe' Alley (1922-2008) with Shifty Powers (1921-2009), at the Emmy's, 2002

Sergeant Jim “Moe” Alley, another man from Easy Company, died in March, 2008, and I was honored to attend his funeral.

I guess Moe had always been a tough nut to crack when it came to thinking about death and the spiritual side of life. At the funeral, the minister told a story of how he’d visited Moe plenty of times, even when Moe was really sick toward the end. Continually, the minister asked Moe if he was ready to go, but Moe always indicated he was fighting God, not willing to give an inch.

Then one day, for reasons unexplained, Moe suddenly decided his fighting days were through. That day when the minister visited and asked Moe if he was ready to do business with God, Moe said yes. So Moe and God did business. Then, just a day or so after that, Moe died. There wasn’t any doubt, said the minister, that Moe was now at peace in the presence of God.

Are you ready?

How have you answered that question? Have you wrestled with it yet and found your peace?

Easy Breathing with the Young Pirate

2011-10-18T10:26:00.000-07:00

The elderly woman stood next to me in line at the bookstore and made googly-eyes at my son. She grinned gap-toothed at my 3-year-old, flapped her nose, and made motorboat sounds with her lips. Then she looked at me, her eyes shining.

“You’re going to have so much fun raising your son,” she said.

That wasn’t what I expected to hear. People normally look at a little kid and say, “Oh, how cute.” Or ask how old he is. But she was predicting the future. It was a blanket pronouncement from somebody who’d been there once with her own kids, I guessed—and had a ball.

Fun.

I confess I don’t often see life through that grid. Even when it comes to raising my kids. Oh sure, there are fun moments. But most of the time having kids mean installing car seats, and watch out for strangers, and eat your carrots! That kind of …uh … fun.

How easy it is as leaders to place fun on the bottom rung of priorities. We’re more prone to busy ourselves with the importance of whatever needs doing. Work isn’t about fun, we’ve long since told ourselves. We need to complete a project, meet a deadline, or sell a product. And home life isn’t about fun either. Not if we’re honest. The mortgage swirls through our mind. We’ve got a car to maintain, a spouse to schedule a date with, a child to take to soccer practice.

But fun?

Last night I needed to discipline Zach. He was being zany, pushing his sister, yelling like a cutthroat pirate. I don’t remember the specifics. He’s at that wacky age where we don’t keep track of his nuttiness for long.

After I growled at him, and we got that over with, I put him in the bathtub and let him putter around with boats for awhile. Then I got him out and put jammies on him, and we sat in the old brown overstuffed chair in his room. Normally we have the same nighttime agenda: book, prayers, bed. But last night Zach was quieter than usual. He didn’t clamor for a book. Not even The Sneetches—his favorite. He simply sat on my lap and leaned close into me.

And I simply let him. I turned off the lamp and wrapped my arms around him, and we didn’t do anything except sit in quietness. Maybe twenty minutes passed. Zach’s breathing grew deeper and regular, and I knew he’d fallen asleep. When I carried him to bed, I noticed how long and angular he felt. How quickly the days with him are already passing.

You’re going to have so much fun raising your kids.

As a family leader, or any kind of a leader, will I remember that basic truth—that much of life is indeed fun, if we see it as so. And will I allow that blessed grid to become the filter for the moments of my daily life?

I tucked the blankets around my son’s chin, and crept softly out of the room.

Question: Do you tend to see life as a problem to be solved, or a journey to be experienced. Explain.

How an Ancient Drunk King Teaches Us to Keep What We Value

2011-10-11T09:56:00.000-07:00

Once in a while on this blog I’m going to go big or go home. I’m going to draw leadership lessons from a place some of you avoid whenever possible: that highly controversial spiritual cookbook known as the Bible.

I mention this up front, because I realize some of you are blatant liberal atheists, and anytime someone mentions “Bible,” you immediately picture hollowed-eyed skinny dudes holding sheep in their arms.

Stay with me. There’ll be none of that here.

The illustrations I’ll draw from will be historical lessons in masculinity. The kind of leadership that hates evil and fights for what’s good. Or warnings from the opposite. In today’s story, blood, guts, and sex abounds. I promise it won’t be boring.

Note to self: avoid similar situations. [photo courtesy Crush Cradds]

King Herod was his name, and he did plenty of things wrong. That’s why I like this story. Herod acted just like any other guy is prone to act, including me.

On his birthday, maybe about 30 A.D., King Herod threw a big bash for his high officials and military commanders, all the leading men of his region. Picture a huge stone hall filled with the smell of steaks and beer. The music was loud. The jokes were thick. The one about the farmer’s daughter from Nantucket kept getting told. You get the drift.

In the middle of the party, Herod called for dancing girls. It was the ancient Mediterranean equivalent of a girl popping out of a cake. Salome was Herod’s niece, and she had all the stuff drunken men like to see. Salome danced for the guys, and this was the type of steamy Eastern dancing that held nothing back.

“You can have anything!” Herod bawled to the girl. “I’ll give it to you! Whatever you want, up to half my kingdom!”

Salome hesitated. Wow. Anything.

She went out and asked her mother for advice, and here’s where the story takes a twist. Salome’s mother, Herodias, nursed a grudge against a wilderness preacher named John. Outback John had been saying some things Herodias didn’t like, so Herodias saw this as her big chance to get even. “Tell the king to bring you the head of John on a serving dish,” she said.

Herod was in a real jam. He, by contrast, liked John and wanted to protect him. But because of the oaths Herod had made, and his need to look good for the drunken boys’ club, he granted the request.

Out went the executioner, and in came John’s head on a plate, oozing blood, attracting flies, and starting to stink. Party over.

Here’s what a man needs to know:

1. Herod’s downfall that night began harmlessly enough. He simply made a few compromises. Not big ones. He just threw a party with his buddies and got plastered. Hey, it happens.

2. Drinking too much and looking at nude girls made Herod stop thinking logically. In the heat of the moment, with his brain turned off, he was willing to toss away what he valued. Ever known a man to do that?

3. When the high was over and Herod came to his senses, he experienced profound regret. Not to mention that his actions irreparably harmed others.

The bottom line?

Safeguard your life against moments when logic turns off.

Okay, that’s it.

What efforts have you made to keep what you value? Say anything you want in the comments below.

The Importance of Hanging Out

2011-10-04T09:28:00.000-07:00

I’ve been fortunate to spend a lot of scheduled time with Lt. Buck Compton, one of the original Band of Brothers. Besides writing a book together, we’ve travelled to various shows, book signings, photo shoots, and speaking engagements. I feel fortunate to call him a friend. I hope he considers me that, too.

Some of the best times I’ve ever had with Buck, however, have come when nothing was on the agenda. We were simply hanging out.

Buck Compton and the back of my head. Photo courtesy Josh Durias.

This happened in a hotel room in Pennsylvania. Buck and I were waiting for the next event at an air show. I turned on the TV and flipped to ESPN, thinking Buck would like to watch whatever game was on. He did. He watched for a while. Then he snoozed. Then he woke up, and kind of drowsily said, “Did I ever tell ya I know that guy?”

It was right after John Wooden’s death, and ESPN was showing a documentary of his life.

“Yeah,” Buck said. “When they first hired John Wooden at UCLA in 1948, the baseball coach invited him over to dinner at his house. The baseball coach was an old fraternity brother of mine, so he invited my wife and me along, just to help welcome John Wooden to the school.” Buck laughed a kindly, insider’s laugh. “Coach Wooden was a great man, he really was.”

One legend talking up another legend. You can’t buy that sort of experience.

As leaders, a pressure often exists to make things happen relationally. We feel a necessity to schedule time with key people and invest in their lives, or seal a deal, or learn from them, or work through an agenda.

Scheduling relational connections, in itself, is not wrong. It’s good to plan meetings, and spend one-on-one time with mentors, and go on date nights with our spouses, and regularly pencil in and block out quality time with our kids.

But often the best things happen relationally when nothing’s planned. These golden moments come when we’re simply watching TV with those we care about. Or we’re in a car together on the way back from McDonalds. Or we’re sitting around the breakfast table eating Grape Nuts. Call it an invitation to simply be there. Call it the strategy of time-spent-with.

Do you ever think that way? How incredibly important it is to simply hang out—agenda-free—with the people you care about?

A while back I took my young daughter and son over to Buck’s apartment to wish him well. There was a schedule of sorts to the trip. It was Memorial Day, and we were going to see “a real veteran.” My daughter had drawn a picture for him, and she carefully rehearsed what she was going to say: “Thank you for your service to our country.”

Buck played along good naturedly. He thanked my daughter for her picture, shook hands with my then 2-year-old son, and that was pretty much it. There wasn’t a lot more to say. Buck’s a little hard of hearing, and my kids aren’t into hearing war stories yet. Buck and I talked about books for a while. Then there was a lull in the conversation.

The TV was on. And that’s when I think everyone relaxed and started being themselves. My daughter told a knock-knock joke. My son hopped around the room like a kangaroo. And Buck started to laugh. I mean, really laugh.

Just hanging out together. It was the best part of the visit.

Question: What good things have come to you when you’ve simply hung around with people close to you?

Getting Tough with Yourself

2011-09-27T12:21:00.000-07:00

One harmful mindset that can keep a leader from fulfilling his calling and potential is self-coddling. This is when he convinces himself he deserves a break, and runs to something that ultimately harms himself.

The WWII Marines of K/3/5 had been fighting on Guadalcanal for weeks. C-rations had run out, and the men ate twice daily portions of coconuts and wormy rice they’d confiscated from the Japanese.

Actor Ashton Holmes (l) portrayed a young Sid Phillips (r) in The Pacific. Photo courtesy Valor Studios.

PFC Sid Phillips (featured in HBO’s The Pacific) grew increasingly concerned for his hometown friend, W.O. Brown, racked with severe dysentery. Everything W.O. tried to eat ran straight through him. There was no medicine. No cots to lie on. The sick were simply stretched out on the ground. W.O. grew so emaciated he was too weak even to sit up. Flies covered him as he lay in his own diarrhea.

“It was bad,” Phillips reported in an interview with me. “I didn’t think W.O. was going to survive.”

Each day, Phillips carried W.O. to the ocean and helped him get clean. I asked Phillips if he remembered any specific conversations he had with W.O. during these times of carrying him. Here, I was expecting a poignant story. I pictured this young battle-hardened Marine carrying his nearly-dead buddy to the water. “Keep holding on,” Phillips would whisper. “Have courage. Just think of mom and apple pie.” Something like that.

But Phillips just chuckled. “Oh yeah, I remember. I told W.O. to stop being such a faker and take a salt tablet.”

The response threw me. I asked Phillips (who eventually became a medical doctor) what his strategy was.

“Well, it didn’t help a man to overly commiserate with him,” Phillips said. “If you did, it just depressed him. But if you kidded him, it made him smile. The ribbing was all good natured. He’d fire back some wisecrack at you, and soon he’d get to fighting again.”

How does this apply to leadership today?

Phillips respected W.O. Brown as someone who had the capacity to get up and go on. So let’s believe the same about ourselves.

Anytime a man is in a downed place—i.e. he’s annoyed, angry, tired, hurt, lonely, stressed, or frustrated—he is tempted to become overly sympathetic with himself. He gets that insidious, creepy, pampering mindset that tells him he deserves a break—just this once.

I’m not talking about kicking back on the couch with a bag of Doritos. Not that kind of a break.

I’m talking about blowing it: the lie that it’s okay to run to a favorite vice. We’ve all got them. We run to whatever ultimately harms us, because we’ve convinced ourselves it helps. It’s the worst form of coddling.

What’s the solution?

Get tough with yourself. Knock it off, ya faker. Take a salt tablet, and get back to the battle. Sure, frustrations exist. But you don’t need that bottle. You don’t need that porn. You don’t need to give in to that moment of rage on the freeway. You’ve only convinced yourself you do.

By the way, the strategy works. W.O. Brown survived the dysentery—and the war.

Question: How have you seen entitlement thinking creep into people’s lives today? In addition to adopting a no-coddling mindset, what’s the solution?

The Precise Moment You Train For

2011-09-20T11:49:00.000-07:00

Ever feel like you want to go live in a van down by the river? You want to quit your calling, drop out, or choose a less challenging path?

Wayne Cordeiro, an author I’ve worked with, has felt this way, but pressed forward anyway. For the past 35 years, Wayne has worked as a pioneering preacher. He’s entered some of the roughest areas of Hawaii’s cities and helped people lead better lives. All people are welcome at his churches, including gang members, prostitutes, drug dealers, and the homeless. The calling is rewarding. But the calling is tough. The 60-year-old, Harley-riding, son of an Army first sergeant says he has got a lot of good years behind him, but he’s not ready to quit any time soon.

So how does he keep going?

A few years back, Wayne signed up for one of the most grueling water races in Hawaii’s oceans. He began an intensive training regime. Each day for eight months, he ran, lifted weights, and paddled for hours. He knew he would need strength and endurance to paddle his canoe the 41-miles across a treacherous channel between Molokai and Oahu. Currents run swift, and waves can exceed 8 feet.

At 6:30 a.m. on race day, Wayne hit the ocean along with 100 other racers. The five-hour race exploded to a start. The first hour, he paddled on pure adrenaline. The second hour, he dug deeper. The third hour, the pace took its toll, and racers began to drop out. By the fourth hour, Wayne was in agony. He wondered why he had ever signed up for the race. He arms and back cramped. He struggled to breathe. His eyes ached in the constant glare of the sun.

Just when he was at the point of giving up, a thought rushed at him. This was exactly what he had been training for. Not for the race, but for this precise moment in the race. Anyone can begin a race—it’s easy to have energy then. And the end isn’t the hard part either—anyone can sprint to the finish.

You train for the middle.

The middle is when no one is around or cheering. It’s when everything in you screams to quit. It’s the point where you’re depleted and long to drop out. That exact moment is what you train to overcome.

“I realized that if I dropped out of the canoe race,” Wayne said, “then it would nullify the hundreds of hours I’d put into preparing for this very moment in the race. Suddenly it was like nitrous oxide was added to my tank. I dug my paddle in deep and pressed forward. It ended up being my best race.”

How about you? What do you do when you want to go live in a van down by the river? How have you prepared for the precise moment you’re tempted to quit your calling, or be unfaithful to your spouse, or stomp out of a board meeting in anger, or give up your race?

Two Words to Never Forget

2011-09-13T13:52:00.000-07:00

Hostilities exist.

President F.D. Roosevelt spoke those two powerful words within his legendary “Day of Infamy” speech to Congress December 8, 1941, one day after Pearl Harbor was attacked by the Empire of Japan. America rallied to arm itself, safeguard its families, and take action against the hostilities that threatened it.

What do you do when you encounter a hostile world? President Roosevelt’s words are as true today as they were 70 years ago. Hostilities exist. They just exist in different forms.

Today, your job might be threatened by a toileted economy.

Or you’ve got little kids, and there’s no way you’d allow them to play at the park alone, like you did as a kid.

Or a driver on your commute home swerves all over the freeway like a crack-addled madman.

Or 105-mph winds menace your home in a late-summer horror-storm.

What’s a leader to do?

Early this morning before I stepped out the door for a run, I stopped by the hall closet and palmed a device that helps answer this reality: bear spray—a powerful type of mace. The area I run in is a heavily-wooded nature preserve where wild animals roam. Just two weeks ago, a jogger spotted a cougar crouched on the trail.

Nature can be savage. A cougar will lie in wait for a victim, spring down from a tree, and rip out his jugular before he knows it. Usually a cougar is hungry for deer or rabbit. But cougar attacks on humans do occur. I don’t know if mace would save a life in a cougar attack. But at least when I carry it, I feel some reassurance. At least I’ve got a fighting chance.

Here’s what I think. When faced with hostilities, the wise leader takes two actions:

1) He safeguards his life and family. This means he chooses best practices up front. He evaluates situations and circumstances for prudent living. Some situations he avoids. He changes plans, inconveniences himself, delays gratification, or says no for the sake of protecting what he holds most important. He asks, “Maybe I shouldn’t be running on this trail in the first place. Maybe I should be running somewhere else.”

2) He keeps living anyway. Even though hostilities exist, there is no reason to shrink back from life. Potential for danger lurks around every turn, yet the wise leader lives courageously. He doesn’t succumb to unnecessary risks, but he presses forward in a good and sensible direction, understanding that challenges will inevitably arise. Sometimes he chooses to run in nature preserves, knowing full well that cougars might be on the same trail.

President Roosevelt was right. Hostilities exist, and those are two words a wise leader never forgets. It’s not that we need to view life as a continual problem to be solved. Life is an adventure to be experienced. Still, we need to remember it’s not always a safe world out there.

Your turn to talk. How have you experienced the existence of hostility, and what have you done to safeguard your life, and to press forward with courage, or both?

Welcome! This Blog's For You

2011-09-06T15:52:00.000-07:00

I am the last writer in America to start a blog. I’ve resisted for a variety of reasons. Mainly, because blogs take work. At least good blogs do. And … well, I’ve been working. You know, writing books, the other day job.

I’m also about as low-tech as they come. You should see my cell phone: all you can do with it is phone people. What do I know about blogs?

But a few things began to break down my resistance.

To begin with, I started actually meeting you—the good folks who read my books—and I like you. This startling revelation comes from an introvert who doesn’t normally like people very much. But you, you’re different. You’re smart. You’re funny. You’ve got a sly sense of humor. And, mostly, you care about this world. You ask big questions. You care about your family and friends, and you know there’s got to be something more to life besides the bowl of bran flakes you had this morning.

So I wanted to start a blog where we could talk. I envisioned us hanging out in a rec room together watching TV. We’d talk about deep subjects, about what we don’t know, as much as what we do. We’d talk when the commercials came on. Sheesh, I hate it when people talk when I’m trying to watch TV.

Another big reason for this blog was that the good folks over at Heritage Builders made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.

“Come syndicate with us,” they said. “We won’t pay you anything, but we’ll give you exposure.”

Exposure—you had me at exposure. An author who has exposure is an author who has everything.

“Uh, how much exposure?” I asked.

“Dozens of hits,” they promised. “Our blog page is just getting started. But stick with us, we’re going to be huge.”

Dozens of hits. Well, Rupert Murdock, look out.

I had one more question.

“You’re sort of a conservative, faith-based organization, aren’t you?” I said. “Nothing against anybody who thinks this way, but a lot of my readers are blatant liberal atheists. And I like them, too. How can I write a blog for you guys and them, as well as everybody in the middle?”

“Find the common ground,” they said.

So, I liked that approach. No matter who you are, no matter what you believe, you’re welcome to read this blog.

We hemmed and hawed about a subject and a title for a blog, and finally some intelligent statistician noted that 58 percent of my current readers are male. This made everyone’s ears perk, because men don’t normally read books, and to have this many men reading mine is a huge marker in today’s publishing arena. Basically, it means I’m an anomaly when it comes to authors. For some reason, the men who care about the same things I write about would rather turn off their video games and open a book for fun. So thank you very much.

I had one last question.

“What about women?”

“What about them?” they asked.

“How can I write a blog titled ‘Men Who Lead Well,’ and not alienate the other important 42 percent of my readership?”

“Figure it out,” they said.

So, there you have it. If you’re a man, this blogs for you. If you’re a woman, your input is also valued. Come here to learn how men think. Or, come here to help set us straight.

The last one’s probably more accurate.

Stay tuned. I’ll be blogging once a week on Wednesdays. There might be more than that, but that’s the agenda from the get go.

Comments? Questions? It’s your turn to say anything below.