Learning From My Mistakes

Saturday will be my 59th birthday. I don’t announce that with expectations of birthday greetings, but as a prelude to a story. It was not funny when it happened, but 37 years later I can laugh.

In 1974, I was an Army journalist and sergeant stationed in Panama. I expected to celebrate my birthday and New Year’s Eve at the Noncommissioned Officers Club, but the guy who was supposed to be sergeant of the guard got sick. I was next in line for the duty. What happened taught me a lot about management and gave me skills I use as a journalist.

Guard duty started off normal, with all guards reporting to me on time. Then I discovered the beds they were supposed to use had fleas. I brought the issue to the lieutenant of the guard, who was also unhappy about pulling duty on New Year’s Eve. There was nothing he could do. I argued, which is something a sergeant is not allowed to do with a lieutenant, but did not give up until he promised to write me up for a court martial.

I told the guards they did not have to sleep in the guard room, but could use their own bunks. That left me with the responsibility of tracking each person down in five separate buildings before their shifts. I wasn’t prepared for one of the guards to take advantage of my generosity.

It was nearing midnight and one of my guards could not be found. I knew that if I didn’t find him, he’d be in trouble for shirking his duty and I’d be in trouble for not making him sleep in the guard room.

Remember, this was 1974. Race relations were tense. My missing guard was a young African-American. The other guards told me he had gone to the enlisted men’s club, where other African-Americans were celebrating. My timing proved terrible. I opened the door to the club as they were counting down to the new year. Picture this: A lone white sergeant with a 45-calibre pistol on his hip asking a bunch of very inebriated black guys to produce a fellow solider.

I had been taught that sometimes it was OK to retreat, so I wished them a happy New Year and asked them to tell the private he was due for duty. It was a long night. As I sat on a wall bemoaning that fact, I also realized I was missing the only bullet they gave me. That was a serious offense, but I had to report it to the lieutenant, who took great pleasure in my situation. I would be likely losing my stripes. I returned to the wall, to await the end of my duty, with a couple of hours left to think about the court martial and loss of my rank. The night truly is darker before dawn.

Luckily, the private eventually showed up. Then daylight came, giving me enough light to see that missing bullet on the ground. I somehow survived what at the time was the worst birthday I ever had.

The day taught me some valuable lessons, namely a good manager treats everybody with respect, takes chances and accepts the responsibility when things go wrong. It also taught me it’s sometimes better to be lucky than good.

Ultimately, it helped me get where I am today.