Image by 愚木混株 Cdd20 from Pixabay
Welcome to the first installment of my five-part series on becoming a manager. It seems like the pinnacle of the American worker’s career, a goal that we set out to achieve as a young motivated new member of the workforce. The reality is kind of a mixed bag and it varies from one industry to another. I’m going to share some stories from my own career—spanning different industries and roles—and highlight the lessons I learned (sometimes the hard way). My journey is not exactly a shining example of success. It’s more like a collection of anecdotes and insights to help you navigate your own management ambitions. So, let’s dive in and explore the making of a manager.
For a variety of reasons, I believe that every good employee will eventually have an opportunity to move into a management role. It’s happened to me more times than I can count, sometimes completely by accident. Looking back, I wish I’d had the resources available today—books, classes, the infinite internet—to help me prepare. Take advantage of those opportunities and learn everything you can about your field.
In this series, I’ll break down the differences between management and leadership. I might use the terms interchangeably sometimes, but they do have distinct meanings, which I’ll clear up as we go. I believe becoming a good manager is a natural step for any solid employee. So, if you want to lead, start by being a top-notch worker in your current occupation.
Now, what makes a good employee? Two things: show up on time and do what you’re told. Seriously, few things get under my skin like tardiness. My military background drilled punctuality into me—15 minutes early was the standard. Rushing is stressful, and having to rehash information for those who can’t be bothered to be on time is even more stressful.
Job descriptions might look simple on paper, but real success often means going beyond just following instructions. Performing a task well entails more than just blindly following directions and doing the bare minimum. The big earners are those who can make tough decisions in uncertain situations, especially when those decisions lead to positive outcomes.
But before you can reach that level, you’ll probably have to pay your dues with some good ol’ fashioned “grunt work.” Even when doing those seemingly boring tasks, try to go above and beyond to get noticed. It shows you’re a hard worker and dedicated, which can open doors for you down the line.
Speaking of grunt work, let me tell you about my summer job in high school at the University of Maine bookstore. My main task was organizing textbooks for the incoming students. Unlike a library, where you shelve books one by one, college textbooks arrived in massive quantities.
One morning, I walked in to find a mountain of books dumped in the lobby. The manager, looking annoyed, just told me to “find a place for them” before taking off for the day. He probably wanted me to stash the boxes in the back, but I saw a chance to get creative. Thanks to my experience stacking firewood and hay bales, I built these intricate towers of books in octagonal and hexagonal patterns. They were almost as tall as me and lined the ends of the bookshelves.
The next day, I was called into the office, expecting to get chewed out. Instead, the manager praised my creativity and asked me to teach the other workers how to build those book towers. Sure, I could have just moved the boxes and been done hours earlier, but my initiative made an impression.
That bookstore experience helped me land a job in the zoology department the following year. One task involved data analysis, which sounded cool but was mind-numbingly boring. I spent hours staring at a computer screen, identifying and saving specific curves from data related to horseshoe crabs and human eyesight.
Later, I was asked to analyze data on a computer in the basement. Back then, before networked computers were everywhere, we used those ancient 5 ¼ inch floppy disks, so it was just easier to do the task where all the data was stored and then walk back up the stairs with the results. Walking down those dark stairs to the basement was a bit creepy, but the work was easy, and I zoned out to pass the time. The professor who gave me the task said he’d check on me after two hours, but he must have forgotten. I worked until I finished all the data, finally heading back upstairs almost eight hours later. The professor was still there and couldn’t believe I was still working.
Even though I was only a temp, the professor was impressed with my dedication and found more work for me. I even got to tag along with the zoology team on trips to Acadia National Park, where I discovered Cadillac Mountain, Jordan Pond House, and the amazing lobster bisque with popovers experience. It taught me a valuable lesson: exceeding expectations can lead to some sweet perks.
I eventually left the university for the military, but I’m pretty sure that professor would have written me a glowing recommendation if I’d asked.
Image by Nicole Miranda from Pixabay
My first real taste of management came in the Marine Corps. While they call it “leadership,” in peacetime, it’s mostly about managing day-to-day operations. Think paperwork, organization, scheduling, and training—the typical “desk jockey” stuff. I picture “leadership” as rallying troops to charge into battle, something requiring charisma and cunning. Management, on the other hand, relies on a solid work ethic and good time management skills. (I bet a lot of folks get those confused on their resumes!)
After two years in the Marines, I switched specialties and landed in air traffic control school. As an E-3 Lance Corporal, I had seniority over most of the new recruits. Despite the presence of higher-ranking Marines, I was tasked with getting everyone to class on time. You’d think a bunch of adults could manage that themselves, but the military operates differently. Everyone had to form up and march to school in formation. It wasn’t too bad—right face, forward march, a bit of cadence calling, and off we went. However, I quickly learned that if someone was missing from that formation, it was somehow my fault.
Some might call this a leadership lesson in tracking your troops, but I see it as a management issue. My job wasn’t to inspire punctuality; it was to herd cats. This meant daily roll calls and sending runners to fetch missing Marines from their barracks. The real lesson here is accountability. When you’re in charge, you’re responsible for your team’s actions, no excuses.
I thought I might be replaced as platoon leader, but apparently, I was doing better than my predecessors. My lieutenant, let’s call him “Lieutenant Flutter Kicks” for his fondness for that particular exercise, remembered I was a platoon leader and saw I could run fast and so put me in charge of physical training. Lesson learned: doing one task well can lead to more responsibilities.
My good grades also landed me in charge of study groups. Coming from rural America, I had no experience with study groups and found them a waste of time. Most of the Marines and Sailors didn’t know how to take notes or make flashcards—I ended up teaching them basic study skills! It was mind-blowing but explained why so many seemingly intelligent people ended up in the military instead of college. I’m very grateful for my education; I was luckier than many. (Expect some future blog posts on my thoughts about education!)
Promotion in the Marine Corps, at least back in my day, had little to do with actual job performance. Over 20 years ago, it was all about time in service, physical fitness, rifle marksmanship, and staying out of trouble. I often joked that my quick promotions were thanks to my running and shooting skills, which wasn’t far off!
Imagine ten Marines with the same rank and time in service, but only two promotion slots available. We’d calculate scores based on proficiency, conduct, and physical fitness—sit-ups, pull-ups, and running. Maxing out sit-ups and pull-ups was easy with practice, but running tripped most people up. Luckily, I was a distance runner in high school, giving me an edge. Add in expert rifle scores and a clean conduct record, and promotions came relatively quickly.
In Yuma, I snagged more responsibilities by being a bit senior and willing to work. I figured extra duties would boost my chances of getting certified as an air traffic controller—a tough gig with a 50% fail rate at that particular facility. Suddenly, I was in charge of physical training, thanks to my fitness score, and some one on one instruction from Lieutenant Flutterkicks. Then more tasks landed on my plate because others were either underperforming or simply didn’t want the extra work. Within 18 months, I was managing publications, ground control training, and even barracks cleaning and maintenance. Lesson learned: doing good work gets you more work…and a reputation.
Back then, Yuma was considered a career dead-end. Nobody wanted to be there, and getting certified was tough, so Marines who re-enlisted often got stuck. I requested orders to California for my second enlistment, and everyone laughed, thinking I had no chance. Rumors swirled about Camp Pendleton needing good controllers and someone scouting me. True or not, I re-enlisted with orders to California!
At 23, I arrived at Camp Pendleton as a Sergeant, the second most senior Marine in the tower. Over the next four years, my responsibilities kept growing. The Marine Corps supposedly had leadership and management courses, but I never got to attend. There was always a staffing shortage or some mission keeping me busy. By the time I could schedule myself, I was outranking the courses and busy sending my junior Marines instead.
I wish I’d had that formal training. “Trial by fire” meant a lot of mistakes. I’d love to say I had a natural talent for leadership, effortlessly fixing every situation. But the truth is, I struggled and made every classic mistake in the book. Having that much authority at a young age was a trip. My ego got the best of me. I said hurtful things, humiliated people publicly, procrastinated on tasks I disliked, and delegated the crappy jobs. In the heat of the moment, you face moral dilemmas and define who you are as a leader. It’s easy to resort to sarcasm or trash-talk, but when you’re in charge, everyone listens and remembers. This might be the norm in the military, but I wanted to be better. That’s when I started studying management, devouring every book I could find.
On a side note, I’ve also managed several pizza places. Compared to the complexities of handling Marines or air traffic controllers, pizza joints were pretty chill. Sometimes I was tired of delivering pizzas, my car was out of commission, or I just wanted to stay late after my shift and tackle the paperwork. What can I say? I was a money-hungry workaholic in my younger days.
Pizza places are almost always understaffed, so everyone’s too busy to stir up drama. Like any workplace, you had your go-getters and your bare-minimum folks. Guess who got the better shifts? The paperwork was straightforward: nightly inventory, ordering supplies, tallying the day’s earnings, and reconciling receipts to ensure nothing was missing. I encountered some lazy managers who’d be $200 short at the end of the night and wouldn’t bother tracking down the discrepancy. Daily earnings rarely topped $6,000, so even if I was only $2 off, I’d spend the extra 15 minutes reviewing everything to ensure accuracy. Sure, I was only making $7.25 an hour, but I had my pride!
Despite the low pay, I’d recommend managing a restaurant early in your career for the experience. You gain valuable skills: inventory, payroll, scheduling, quality control, and reconciliation (balancing the till and ensuring those receipts match the daily sales report). These are fundamental skills applicable to managing people in almost any setting. It shows potential employers you have discipline and integrity—someone trusts you with their money. It might not seem like much, but it can be a stepping stone to managing a larger business or even a government operation.
Management in the FAA, at least from my frontline perspective, was nothing like what those management books described. The only real leadership came from the controllers’ union. Forget about strategic planning, meticulous budgeting, or burning the midnight oil to climb the corporate ladder. Our management involved scheduling work and classes, along with rigorous quality assurance procedures to analyze errors and prevent future accidents. Performance management existed, but a controller had to practically commit a crime to face any real consequences.
The FAA sent me to countless management classes that barely helped with my daily work. They focused more on navigating union politics and avoiding trouble. Most instructors were sharp but utterly clueless about the realities of an air traffic facility in the 21st century. We did a lot of touchy-feely team-building exercises, which might be helpful for a brand-new facility, but I already knew my controllers well.
I initially had zero desire to be a manager, but politics, money, and other factors (which I might spill the beans on in other posts) conspired to put me in charge. The tipping point was when three controllers separately urged me to apply for an open management position. They knew I was a known quantity and preferred me over another potential candidate. Flattered and a bit naive, I took the bait. I figured I had no shot, being relatively junior and not exactly the air traffic manager’s favorite.
The application involved answering essay questions about my management experience. Apparently, I did okay because I made the top 20. Then came the interview, which I actually prepared for by researching common questions and practicing my answers. I also picked the brains of other managers about their experiences, so I felt ready. It helped that I was relaxed during the interview, not really caring if I got the job.
A panel of six senior managers grilled me with questions about challenging situations. They wanted to know if I’d encountered specific issues and how I handled them. Turns out, I had experienced them all and had some good stories to tell. I hadn’t always handled things perfectly, but given my relative youth, I think they appreciated my honesty about the consequences and what I learned. I also shared follow-up stories about similar situations and how I improved my approach. The panel kept asking questions, and I must have rambled for over an hour!
The assistant district manager for Southern California called later that week, impressed with my interview. He said I was initially ranked last, but my responses bumped me to the second spot. The top-ranked candidate withdrew after realizing how much their pay cut would be, and I got the job. Lesson learned: be a good storyteller!
So, there you have it – a glimpse into my winding path to management. It wasn’t always glamorous, and I stumbled more than I’d like to admit. But each experience, from stacking textbooks to herding Marines, taught me valuable lessons about initiative, accountability, and the importance of exceeding expectations. Remember, there’s no one-size-fits-all route to management. Explore different industries, embrace new challenges, and never underestimate the power of a well-told story. And most importantly, don’t burn bridges – you never know when you might need a reference or a favor down the road. So, keep learning, keep hustling, and who knows? You might just find yourself in the manager’s chair sooner than you think.
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