Every now and again I brave up and get together with people who still work in PR. By that I mean people who still work in PR for a company, in an office. I do enjoy keeping in touch, and I love going downtown for social outings, and I love gossip. But most of all, to be completely honest, what I really love about these get togethers is that they remind me of how dreadful the whole affair is. Not that I need any reminding, but these meetups are like seeing a photograph of myself taken during a really bad stretch. Each time, I cringe a bit.
Friday was gorgeous in Portland. It was sunny, mostly clear, the leaves starting to turn but just barely, cool enough to wear a sweatshirt, warm enough that the jackets and gloves are still on the top shelf in the hall closet. One of my former co-prisoners and I sat in a booth by a window at a restaurant across the street from the library. I like this guy. He’s funny at times, I think he’s read a lot and I think he pays attention. But oh man, when the talk turns to work, as it always does, look out.
We talked about who has been promoted, who has been fired, who is “kicking ass and taking names,” who is now managing whom, and the new tricks devised by the HR people, and who might now be dating whom, maybe, but maybe not. On and on it went.
Then this: the generals always eat last. Holy shit, I thought as I took a large and sloppy bite from my cheeseburger, now we’re at war. This is the manta of one of the super smart strategy guys, apparently: the generals always eat last. That’s how these people talk, I reminded myself. Once the equally offensive sports metaphors have been exhausted, their vernacular transitions, as if by primitive instinct, to the battlefield. We really do get off on destroying others, which concerns me.
For several reasons I received the messages with much more clarity than I ever have before. Perhaps it’s the fact that I’ve had more time to think over the past couple of years. Perhaps it’s that I haven’t attended any leadership workshops in quite a while. Maybe it was just the natural beauty of the day, which only made my impulse to powerwash away the stain of falsehood all the more urgent. “It’s totally applicable to team leadership,” my lunch date explained earnestly. I nodded and put more food in my mouth. “You have to take care of your team first. That’s what being a leader is all about.”
Given what constitutes “leadership” these days I couldn’t disagree more. In my experience, most of the people in today’s workplace aren't “leaders” because of what they contribute or when they eat, or don't, but primarily because they say they are. I cannot imagine having the nerve to declare myself – in writing, no less – a general but that doesn't stop lots of people. Although I think I’ve known it for years, last week it occurred to me in very clear terms that it’s the language that pulls the weight.
Friday was gorgeous in Portland. It was sunny, mostly clear, the leaves starting to turn but just barely, cool enough to wear a sweatshirt, warm enough that the jackets and gloves are still on the top shelf in the hall closet. One of my former co-prisoners and I sat in a booth by a window at a restaurant across the street from the library. I like this guy. He’s funny at times, I think he’s read a lot and I think he pays attention. But oh man, when the talk turns to work, as it always does, look out.
We talked about who has been promoted, who has been fired, who is “kicking ass and taking names,” who is now managing whom, and the new tricks devised by the HR people, and who might now be dating whom, maybe, but maybe not. On and on it went.
Then this: the generals always eat last. Holy shit, I thought as I took a large and sloppy bite from my cheeseburger, now we’re at war. This is the manta of one of the super smart strategy guys, apparently: the generals always eat last. That’s how these people talk, I reminded myself. Once the equally offensive sports metaphors have been exhausted, their vernacular transitions, as if by primitive instinct, to the battlefield. We really do get off on destroying others, which concerns me.
For several reasons I received the messages with much more clarity than I ever have before. Perhaps it’s the fact that I’ve had more time to think over the past couple of years. Perhaps it’s that I haven’t attended any leadership workshops in quite a while. Maybe it was just the natural beauty of the day, which only made my impulse to powerwash away the stain of falsehood all the more urgent. “It’s totally applicable to team leadership,” my lunch date explained earnestly. I nodded and put more food in my mouth. “You have to take care of your team first. That’s what being a leader is all about.”
Given what constitutes “leadership” these days I couldn’t disagree more. In my experience, most of the people in today’s workplace aren't “leaders” because of what they contribute or when they eat, or don't, but primarily because they say they are. I cannot imagine having the nerve to declare myself – in writing, no less – a general but that doesn't stop lots of people. Although I think I’ve known it for years, last week it occurred to me in very clear terms that it’s the language that pulls the weight.
If you want to be a leader – whatever that means – just start talking like one. Interrupt people to sing the praises of others. Highlight things other people have done in e-mails sent as broadly as possible. Tell your current authority figure that what really keeps you up at night is worrying about how you can help everyone on the team be successful. Give it a whirl and see what happens. Once you’re comfortable with it – and it won’t take nearly as long as you may think – dump the amateurish sports metaphors and make your grand entrance onto the battlefield. Talk your way above and beyond others, and chances are good that someday you actually will be. Refer to yourself as a general long and often enough and it’ll catch on. Hell, someone may salute you someday when you walk into a conference room.
At any rate, perhaps the generals – the real ones, and those who have appointed themselves to the post – really do eat last. Good for them, because even if they do eat last, I’m sure that the grade of their steak and the quality of the china off which they devour the meat makes the wait more than worthwhile.
At any rate, perhaps the generals – the real ones, and those who have appointed themselves to the post – really do eat last. Good for them, because even if they do eat last, I’m sure that the grade of their steak and the quality of the china off which they devour the meat makes the wait more than worthwhile.
