Sorry no post in October...it was kinda a rough month.
Over the course of my time at Headquarters, I've received some very positive feedback on this blog. Many deep thanks to all the folks who take the time to read it, and especial thanks to the couple of people who have offered such kind words of support, either in emails or comments. And my sincerest apologies that I'm not better at responding more quickly and individually.
One reader said, "As a WG-10 from Maine who has spent more time visiting headquarters than I ever want to again, banging my head against the Head of the "Puzzle Palace," your writing reminds me that "The Agency" is heavily populated by incredibly intelligent, dedicated, well meaning and motivated people...Sometimes while trying to swim up river from the swamp I reside in, I forget that. Thank you for the needed reminder."
And another said, "I don't know what kind of problems you're working on at HQ. And I have no if I would agree with whatever you're fighting for...But from your blog posts, it seems like you really think things through and you actually give a shit. As a deck plate sailor, I don't always see that."
Couple these comments with some of the elitist whining that goes on in my office, and I have to wonder why Headquarters gets such a bad rep. I mean, even I have said that I want this to be my one and only Headquarters tour, and even though part of that is because the real fun is out in the field, part of it because Headquarters is frustrating. Decisions are tough to get, and even when they do get made, there can be so many compromises that the original intent of the initiative, whatever it was, is lost.
But why is this? Coasties, as a whole, are a dang good bunch of people -- hard working, smart, motivated, generous, and concerned about the outcome. Why then, when you put them in Headquarters, does it appear that we founder?
I asked this of one of my peeps from CG-12A. I love having this kind of talk with the -12A (pronounced, "twelve alfa") folks because they so totally get it. CG-12A is the Office of Workforce Forecasting and Analysis -- they're the ones who figure out accession numbers (how many people should go through boot camp, the Academy or OCS), provide end strength forecasts (how many people will there be in the CG in, say, 12 months), determine the advancement/promotion numbers (what the SWE cut-offs are for enlisted, or what the zones and opportunities of selection (OOS) are for officers), and generally make sure that policies under development don't irreparably harm workforce pyramids so that we continue to have a healthy "home-grown" workforce.
They are such a pleasure to work with, understanding the need to look big picture, thinking outside the box, and bringing recommendations or even solutions when they highlight problems or concerns with an initiative. What's not to love?! In some ways, it's part of their job to think big thoughts about the workforce, and they do it with flair and dedication.
So one quiet morning, I met for coffee with my trusted -12A agent (I'm not mentioning names only because I haven't asked permission). T12A2's (Trusted -12A Agent) initial response was that it's part of the bureaucracy (still can't spell that damn word). It's designed that way, similar to how the Constitution was written specifically to slow things down and generate debate within the three segments of government. And having read most of James Q Wilson's Bureaucracy, I can absolutely see the sense of that. The system needs a built in set of checks and balances to make sure that the whole system functions evenly. Without these checks and balances, for a very simplified example, we spend too much time and attention on operations, and maintenance would suffer, eventually negatively impacting operations. Systems of accountability also add to the bureaucracy. Assigning and tracking resources, documenting decisions and execution of decisions, and reporting out on all that, adds people and decision points and (sometimes deeply opaque) processes.
Somehow all this is supposed to make the system work better. I think to a large extent, the concept of bureaucracy does what it is supposed to do...in moderation. But I also think there has been an accretion of bureaucracy, and it's gotten to the point where we're sagging under our own weight. Processes have been added to processes, instead of going back to the original intent and figuring out how to make the whole thing work better. The problem with the wholesale overhaul is that the entire structure (I'm talking CG organizational structure here) would have to be overhauled all at once; doing it piecemeal is a recipe for failure due to the inter-relatedness/-connectedness of everything. And that kind of change is not easy. Or cheap. Or fast. Or simple.
T12A2 and I also talked about the external pressures to which Headquarters is exposed. I think we'd all like to think that our CG leadership knows absolutely what is best for our organization. But our system of government doesn't operate that way. We work for a Department who works for an Administration, but is funded and governed by a legislature. All of whom have, at times, opposing agendas. I'm treading on very treacherous ground here, suggesting that priorities among the different levels of the Administration are not completely aligned, because at the end of the day, we Coasties all serve at the pleasure of the President. However, there should be intense debates and discussions about how the Coast Guard fits into the national security portfolio -- I have to believe that these debates and discussions make us stronger because we subject our organization to serious introspection. Suffice it to say, sometimes we just have to salute our leaders, say, "aye, aye!" with conviction and step out on tasking whether we agree with it or not.
Maybe this next part is related to the internal bureaucracy bit I first mentioned, but I think there's also something to how strictly focused an office is on their own mission that contributes to the Headquarters Effect (T12A2 heard me out on this one, but I'm not sure I completely swayed him). There are some offices that have a requirement to look at the entire organization, like CG-82 or CG-12A, or CG-092 (External Affairs), or CG-095 (Strategic Planning). Other parts of the organization are very focused on whatever their office mission is, like CG-731 (Shore Forces) or CG-45 (Naval Engineering). This second type is the majority of Headquarters, I think in part because we have such a diverse mission set. We have to have specialized policy types to answer all the questions that are inevitably asked about the specifics of that particular mission set.
The difficulty with this organizational specialization is that the individuals involved can get such tunnel vision about their own issue, that they forget they are part of a larger organization with many such issues, and limited resources. I do see a lot of provincial-ism or overly narrow focus at the staff level, but that may be by design. Where we fail is when, at the staff level, we can't get offices to acknowledge that the Coast Guard will not wholesale fail if they don't get every concession they want for a project or initiative.
I think this is part of a larger issue, though. I think those office staff members are motivated by one primary thing that has underlying motivators/factors. They want to get done what their bosses want done (primary thing), so they meet or exceed expectations and get a good OER, civilian eval, or EER (underlying motivator); they assume their bosses are looking out for the overall good of the Coast Guard (underlying factor), because I think at heart, we all want what we do to help, not hurt the Coast Guard. This scenario (if correct) has the potential to allow inconsistencies and falsities to creep in in a couple of different places. The translation of what the staffs think their bosses want done is kind of like the old game "telephone." What gets said on one end can be unrecognizably mangled by the time it comes out the other end. Their boss's perception of what is good for the Coast Guard may be slightly off from senior leadership's, or more likely, still tightly focused on their world of work, ignoring the greater overall needs of the service. And maybe, in the rare case, the individual isn't motivated by their evaluation report because they simply don't care any more -- I think this is the exception rather than the rule.
I hope all this makes some sense. After reading through this, I sort of feel like I'm talking in code, and it makes sense to me because I understand what I'm trying to say, but it might be impenetrable to someone who hasn't ever experienced Headquarters. I would encourage any and all Coasties to accept a tour at Headquarters, if only to understand how it works.
I also encourage Every.Single.Coastie to read the message board. All of it. There is lots of information put out in ALCOASTS, and other message types that explains what is going on at Headquarters. Each of these messages goes through a pretty hardy review process, from various offices that have interests/stakes in the message. The words are important in many cases, specifically chosen to convey what leadership wants members to hear. I heard a statistic that only 10 percent of the Service is actually exposed to the information in these messages, and that *absolutely* is the fault of each and every one of us for not seeking out explanations that may be available. Ignorance is a piss-poor basis for bitching; a much stronger foundation for complaint is knowledge of the facts.
I'm curious about how the insights I've gained while at Headquarters will affect me once I get back to the fleet; will it make me more patient with the messaging and tasking and requirements? Or more frustrated that the pointy end of the spear is being intentionally dulled by shortsighted decisions from an air-conditioned office building? I hope it's the first, but I can't wait to find out. Max of eight months and counting!
Happy Veterans' Day, y'all!! Many thanks to all those who have served and who are still serving!
Monday, November 11, 2013
Sunday, September 15, 2013
The New Digs
One of these days I'm going to write a post that is timely and not have to say, this happened weeks ago and I procrastinated so long that now what I'm saying just isn't as relevant as it once was. But that's not today.
We moved to the new St Elizabeths campus, Douglas A. Munro Coast Guard Headquarters Building last month. Our first day in the new space was 11 Aug 13, after months, no *years* of hearing and talking about the first new Coast Guard-specific Headquarters building we've ever had, built just for us.
The move itself was fairly uneventful -- though I do remember a certain amount of elitist whining about the movers being in our way during the week that preceded our move date. In our defense, though, we were trying to actually build the FY 2015 OMB-stage budget for submission to DHS on the 14th of August. Like get the verbiage and formatting and numbers and tables right for like a dozen different appropriations (I'm somewhere close in that number). So things were already a little tense for CG-82. We joked about it, and went frantically back to work.
According to the move schedule, we had to be out of our spaces at Transpoint by 1600 on Thursday, and we had Friday off. I teleworked, declining to participate in the chaos that I knew would be the temporary worksite arranged to accommodate CG-82's aggressive worklist.
Showing up at St Es on Monday was some weird combination of the first day at a new school and moving household goods. CG-8 was assigned to the second increment, so we were the second bunch of people in the new building. CG-1 had moved over the week before (which has been *really* nice for me because all my programs were immediately available in the new building and I knew who to ask for all the good gouge about where stuff was and how it worked). I took nearly the most indirect, but most obvious route to get from the parking garage to my new cubicle that first morning (I have since refined by route to one that is completely inobvious, but super convenient -- gotta love the freight elevators!).
The inconveniences I remember from that first week seem like stories from a vague and distant land now. The water from the taps hadn't tested as potable yet, primarily due to the building having been under construction and not occupied yet. Bottled water was provided, but it prevented the little cafe in the building from providing anything but pre-prepared sandwiches and packaged snacks for food. At least there was coffee available the second week -- CG-1 had to suffer through no coffee (ADM Neptun's comment was something about "the perils of pioneering"...tee hee). The sections of hard pasteboard that were put out on the carpets for transporting the moving crates were loud...people walking up and down the passageway was a cacophony. Every single entry point had a different requirement for entry -- or maybe it was every single security guard had their own standard for allowing access. Some glanced at IDs, some wanted to touch them, some made you try the electronic gate system first and then wanted to look at the ID too, and some barely grunted as you passed by.
The building is a maze. There is no other way to describe it; every floor has a different layout; only one elevator goes from the top floor to the bottom; the numbering of the floors starts at the Ground level (G) and goes *down* to Lower Level 9 (LL9), so you have to go down to go up, and up to go down; staircases are nearly impossible to find, and some don't let you back into the building proper, just into mechanical spaces; some of the doors to get outside aren't full access, an alarm goes off if you use them; and that first week, a lot of the access doors to the exterior courtyards were locked, so I walked around the courtyards for twenty minutes looking for an alternate way back to my office, only to have to go back to the same door I came out.
I'm not really sure how that FY15 budget got put together -- I suspect it was due to the very very very hard work and dedication of the Coordinator and one key analyst. By that time, all my stuff was pretty much done, and I was just standing by to help however I could. Regardless, not much got done besides the budget build that week, and even that was done begrudgingly. We were all too busy exploring our new home.
And explore we did. I remember at least two long walks with fellow Reviewers dedicated to wandering most of the levels to check things out (yes, including the Commandant's Office --couldn't help it). We walked out onto one of the grass-topped roofs and found a great spot for a barbeque set up. We cracked jokes about how the metal in the water feature in the LL6 courtyard may have been cropped out steel from a cutter, except it was *****WAAAAAY***** too thick, and not nearly pitted enough. We tramped along the entire length of the LL1 boardwalk that fronts the catchment pond, and wondered when the morale paddleboat races would start. Yeah -- not that much got done that week.
But it was somehow very exhausting anyway. I left the first couple of days by 1730, feeling like I had put in an 18-hour day. I think it was just the newness of everything...even figuring out where to change into uniform wasn't as simple as it used to be anymore. I used to wait until MC stepped out, close the door to my office, and be done with it. The new cubes don't allow nearly that much privacy. Now I have to make sure I've got all the requisite parts and pieces and make my way to the changing room down the hall or the restroom. At least I can multi-task if I change in the restroom :)
Things have settled down quite a bit now, and will continue to normalize as time goes on, programs come over from the other buildings, and amenities start up at the new one. My biggest dilemma right now is dry-cleaning. I'm out of clean uniforms for next week, and just dropped two off at the local dry-cleaners in town yesterday. I didn't have a chance last week (it felt like I bounced from crisis to crisis with not a minute to spare) to look for the temporary dry-cleaner's location in the new building...which really is pathetic on my part, since it's even on the same floor as we are. Once I get back into the dry-cleaning routine, one uniform in, one uniform out, I will have crossed a major hurdle in the move.
I'm still getting used to working in a cube farm. I didn't realize how spoiled we were, with our own offices. Sound is somewhat dampened in the larger space, but I can still hear distinct conversations from at least seven other Reviewers if they're talking in their cubes. And it's much easier to interrupt and distract people. It's just a pop of the head over the cube, instead of walking past their office door. I'm trying to use IM a little more effectively, so they can ignore me for the moment if they want to. The "gopher city" effect is definite cause for hilarity though...you call someone's name from a little ways away, and 9 times out of 10, if they're at their desk, they'll pop their head up above the cube wall, just like a gopher emerging out of their hole. The stand-up desks add to that effect, but I have become quite attached to mine.
I rearranged my cube twice before I feel like I got it right. Within the first five minutes of being in our new cubes, MC and I had taken out one panel of the cube wall between us, so we could sit at our desks and still talk to each other. Definitely a configuration management faux pas, but critical to coordinating work in the Body Shop. I tried putting my computer on the stand-up desk, but that meant my back was to the cube entrance which was a little awkward. Now, my computer is facing MC's cube, and my phone is on the stand-up desk, which I try to use for phone calls and for things that don't require computer work.
And I don't think I've said it yet, but the new building is just plain *nice.* Natural light, lots of views of green plants through the windows, the courtyards...all of it is such a welcome change from those dark, sick buildings we were in. The inconveniences are minor, and will be part of the landscape soon enough as people find ways to deal with them. I have high hopes that the new building, with its communal feel may help to change some of the culture at Headquarters...but that's a post for next time.
We moved to the new St Elizabeths campus, Douglas A. Munro Coast Guard Headquarters Building last month. Our first day in the new space was 11 Aug 13, after months, no *years* of hearing and talking about the first new Coast Guard-specific Headquarters building we've ever had, built just for us.
 |
| The best view on campus -- overlooking the Anacostia River |
According to the move schedule, we had to be out of our spaces at Transpoint by 1600 on Thursday, and we had Friday off. I teleworked, declining to participate in the chaos that I knew would be the temporary worksite arranged to accommodate CG-82's aggressive worklist.
Showing up at St Es on Monday was some weird combination of the first day at a new school and moving household goods. CG-8 was assigned to the second increment, so we were the second bunch of people in the new building. CG-1 had moved over the week before (which has been *really* nice for me because all my programs were immediately available in the new building and I knew who to ask for all the good gouge about where stuff was and how it worked). I took nearly the most indirect, but most obvious route to get from the parking garage to my new cubicle that first morning (I have since refined by route to one that is completely inobvious, but super convenient -- gotta love the freight elevators!).
 |
| The exterior Ceremonial entrance courtyard |
 |
| The cafeteria, still in early stages -- now there's outdoor seating :) |
I'm not really sure how that FY15 budget got put together -- I suspect it was due to the very very very hard work and dedication of the Coordinator and one key analyst. By that time, all my stuff was pretty much done, and I was just standing by to help however I could. Regardless, not much got done besides the budget build that week, and even that was done begrudgingly. We were all too busy exploring our new home.
 |
| View of one of the interior courtyards -- the shade structures are on LL5 |
But it was somehow very exhausting anyway. I left the first couple of days by 1730, feeling like I had put in an 18-hour day. I think it was just the newness of everything...even figuring out where to change into uniform wasn't as simple as it used to be anymore. I used to wait until MC stepped out, close the door to my office, and be done with it. The new cubes don't allow nearly that much privacy. Now I have to make sure I've got all the requisite parts and pieces and make my way to the changing room down the hall or the restroom. At least I can multi-task if I change in the restroom :)
Things have settled down quite a bit now, and will continue to normalize as time goes on, programs come over from the other buildings, and amenities start up at the new one. My biggest dilemma right now is dry-cleaning. I'm out of clean uniforms for next week, and just dropped two off at the local dry-cleaners in town yesterday. I didn't have a chance last week (it felt like I bounced from crisis to crisis with not a minute to spare) to look for the temporary dry-cleaner's location in the new building...which really is pathetic on my part, since it's even on the same floor as we are. Once I get back into the dry-cleaning routine, one uniform in, one uniform out, I will have crossed a major hurdle in the move.
I'm still getting used to working in a cube farm. I didn't realize how spoiled we were, with our own offices. Sound is somewhat dampened in the larger space, but I can still hear distinct conversations from at least seven other Reviewers if they're talking in their cubes. And it's much easier to interrupt and distract people. It's just a pop of the head over the cube, instead of walking past their office door. I'm trying to use IM a little more effectively, so they can ignore me for the moment if they want to. The "gopher city" effect is definite cause for hilarity though...you call someone's name from a little ways away, and 9 times out of 10, if they're at their desk, they'll pop their head up above the cube wall, just like a gopher emerging out of their hole. The stand-up desks add to that effect, but I have become quite attached to mine.
I rearranged my cube twice before I feel like I got it right. Within the first five minutes of being in our new cubes, MC and I had taken out one panel of the cube wall between us, so we could sit at our desks and still talk to each other. Definitely a configuration management faux pas, but critical to coordinating work in the Body Shop. I tried putting my computer on the stand-up desk, but that meant my back was to the cube entrance which was a little awkward. Now, my computer is facing MC's cube, and my phone is on the stand-up desk, which I try to use for phone calls and for things that don't require computer work.
And I don't think I've said it yet, but the new building is just plain *nice.* Natural light, lots of views of green plants through the windows, the courtyards...all of it is such a welcome change from those dark, sick buildings we were in. The inconveniences are minor, and will be part of the landscape soon enough as people find ways to deal with them. I have high hopes that the new building, with its communal feel may help to change some of the culture at Headquarters...but that's a post for next time.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Roller Coaster
I *wish* I was talking about the amusement park kind of roller coaster. It's been a while since I've been to an amusement park, and heaven knows there are a couple of good ones around, and I totally want to go, but I've been lazy about rallying somebody to go with me. Any takers?
No, I'm talking about the emotional roller coaster that was this past week at work. Monday started off reasonably enough, but by noon I had received some stupendously unfortunate news. News that unnecessarily complicated my work-related responsibilities, was based on (IMHO) a supremely poor decision, and for which there is no readily identifiable solution, for a number of reasons. It's an issue that has been brewing for about eight months (that's being generous...in its entirety, it's probably been an issue since this time last year). I had written panel sheets, digests, memos, slide decks and emails describing potential courses of action (COAs); and apparently I failed to communicate my position adequately, because such a crappy non-solution was the end result. The best I could say about the whole thing was that at least now I had an answer. I shut my office door to vent to fellow reviewers, stewing about it for a while, then tried to shake it off because I had other work to do.
In the afternoon, I was working on a panel sheet to brief my bosses about a meeting the next day, so they'd be prepared to discuss the issue with knowledge of some critical background information. I reached out to the brief's drafter because I had some questions of my own. And proceeded to get into a 20 minute conversation, bordering on argument, about the importance of spend-down and closing out accounts as close to zero as possible at the end of the fiscal year, and how OMB treats vacancy rates for planning purposes. As cogent and rational, based in fact, as I thought my premises were, I was unable to sway the other party from hir fears about having to brief the Admiral (theoretical Admiral, in this case) about the potential for going ADA (violating the Anti-Deficiency Act -- spending more money than appropriated) in the account. I failed to communicate my position adequately. I shut my office door because I had to pace the length of the office a dozen times to regain some composure, then tried to shake it off because I had other work to do.
'Long about 1900 (yes, I was still in the office...we're trying to build an FY15 budget, people), I subjected myself to another confrontation because of my strongly held beliefs and lack of ability to do anything other than speak my mind. Even to an O-6. Heated words were exchanged. I ended up saying, "Aye, sir" a lot. And even though had back-up from another Reviewer this time, I felt like I failed to communicate my position adequately. I shut my office door to change so I could go home. I was done being beat for the day; the other work I had to do would still be there tomorrow.
On the ride home (thank goodness I had ridden my bike that day -- the National's game traffic would have been the Last Straw if I had been in my car), I reviewed the day, wallowing in the crappiness of the whole thing. And I realized, while the decisions related to each of these issues are very important, no one was going to directly die because of them. No boat crewman was going to be pitched into the water from the small boat, to be run over by the ship's screws; no person in the water was not not going to be spotted by the lookout and rescued after 11 hours in the ocean; no flight deck crew was going to be sliced in two by the spinning blades of a hovering helo; no engineer was going to be sprayed with fuel oil and engulfed in flames in an engine room fire. It's good to put things into perspective.
Tuesday started with a better attitude and I jumped right in. Until the first meeting of the day, at which point, a little bit of office logistical news was inadvertently leaked before its proper time. I got spun up about the rationale behind the decision, feeding off the righteous indignation of the other Reviewers and shutting the office door numerous times to rail against life being so damn unfair. Not much work got done that day -- and I don't think it was just because the movers were packing up our spaces for the pending move to St E's, trying their very best not to get too much in our way.
But there was 1700 meeting to plan high level strategy about a Very Important Decision, to which I was invited. I don't always get invited to these kinds of meetings -- I have niche role, specialized in personnel, and while people are everywhere, these strategy meetings are typically about politics, which is definitely *not* my specialty. And when I have attended these type meetings in the past, I haven't ever said much. This time was different though, for some reason. I had input which the other attendees valued and incorporated into the plan. It was very satisfying...the small victories count.
Wednesday started with the chaos surrounding the move to St E's slowing expanding; yellow bins were everywhere in the office, next to the shred bins, next to the disposal bins. I don't like that moving day feeling, knowing there are a thousand little tasks left to do but not wanting to start on them too soon because you might need something you've already packed. Haha!! I tried to be proactive with my packing, and put the binders from my shelves into crates on Monday -- fifteen minutes later I was digging through the crates in search of my FY13 and FY14 CJs (Congressional Justifications) because I needed to look something up. I brought the CJs home with me on Thursday, in case I needed to reference them while working from home on Friday.
So while the moving day chaos was building momentum and rage, we were still trying to help the FY15 Coordinator get the budget built for submission to the Department next week. Tables and displays and write-ups and object class spreads and personnel counts...for every single appropriation. It is a huge task that takes a lot of time and attention. Each Reviewer is tasked with making sure their program's stuff is done and compiled. I remember the process from last year, and was able to bang through my stuff pretty easily, after a few fits and starts of trying to recall approximately what the end product was supposed to look like. Unfortunately, new Reviewers don't have the benefit of that experience and usually end up frustrated because they don't know exactly what to do. They're usually smart enough to ask one of the seasoned Reviewers what the hell is going on.
Earlier in the week, a new Reviewer asked for my help with trying to wrangle hir program stuff into what the Coordinator needed. I gave hir some general guidance, completely forgetting that this was entirely new to hir. On Wednesday, I asked the Coordinator what s/he needed help with to keep things moving along. S/he asked me to work with the new Reviewer to make sure hir stuff was in the proper format, with the required information. I probably could have avoided the whole situation if I had given better information the first time around. Needless to say, s/he was annoyed at having to go back and redo some work because the expectations weren't clearly stated at the beginning. The whole process is not intuitive, requires detective work, and you've got to know where to look for stuff...heck, you've got to know what you're looking for in the first place. Yet another communication fail on my part. At least I didn't have to close my office door afterwards this time.
At some point during the week, I realized if I didn't just *make* the time to submit my e-resume, the 1 Sep deadline would creep up on me unawares like some little sneaky-sneak, and then I'd be scrambling to get it submitted. So I took a few moments to prioritize the boats one last time. I only put seven ships on my list -- I figure if I can't get one of those seven, I'd like a call from the Detailer to talk about why, and have a conversation about alternatives. I hesitated, hemmed and hawed, wished and washed, and in general procrastinated hitting "submit" for as long as possible on the dang thing. But I finally amassed the gumption to press go, and away it went. Now I wait.
One last piece of major business got taken care of on Wednesday. CG-8 signed a memo I've been working on for a while, with major personnel implications including a direct relation to individuals' lives, political and financial impacts, and kind of the whole future of the Coast Guard-thing going for it. I was very glad to get the project moving. It's not done, not by a long-shot, but it's started. And that's better than when the week started.
Thursday was a blur of packing the last of my stuff, cleaning up common spaces, trekking stuff to the car, with small bursts of actual work getting done at the peripheries. I left at 1550, as the movers were invading to make this move a reality. I wasn't sure what to do with myself, getting home before 1700. I think I actually made dinner that night, instead of just grazing from the fridge.
Next Monday I'll start work in our new St E's offices. I'm excited about it...and more than anything, glad the turmoil of last week is over.
No, I'm talking about the emotional roller coaster that was this past week at work. Monday started off reasonably enough, but by noon I had received some stupendously unfortunate news. News that unnecessarily complicated my work-related responsibilities, was based on (IMHO) a supremely poor decision, and for which there is no readily identifiable solution, for a number of reasons. It's an issue that has been brewing for about eight months (that's being generous...in its entirety, it's probably been an issue since this time last year). I had written panel sheets, digests, memos, slide decks and emails describing potential courses of action (COAs); and apparently I failed to communicate my position adequately, because such a crappy non-solution was the end result. The best I could say about the whole thing was that at least now I had an answer. I shut my office door to vent to fellow reviewers, stewing about it for a while, then tried to shake it off because I had other work to do.
In the afternoon, I was working on a panel sheet to brief my bosses about a meeting the next day, so they'd be prepared to discuss the issue with knowledge of some critical background information. I reached out to the brief's drafter because I had some questions of my own. And proceeded to get into a 20 minute conversation, bordering on argument, about the importance of spend-down and closing out accounts as close to zero as possible at the end of the fiscal year, and how OMB treats vacancy rates for planning purposes. As cogent and rational, based in fact, as I thought my premises were, I was unable to sway the other party from hir fears about having to brief the Admiral (theoretical Admiral, in this case) about the potential for going ADA (violating the Anti-Deficiency Act -- spending more money than appropriated) in the account. I failed to communicate my position adequately. I shut my office door because I had to pace the length of the office a dozen times to regain some composure, then tried to shake it off because I had other work to do.
'Long about 1900 (yes, I was still in the office...we're trying to build an FY15 budget, people), I subjected myself to another confrontation because of my strongly held beliefs and lack of ability to do anything other than speak my mind. Even to an O-6. Heated words were exchanged. I ended up saying, "Aye, sir" a lot. And even though had back-up from another Reviewer this time, I felt like I failed to communicate my position adequately. I shut my office door to change so I could go home. I was done being beat for the day; the other work I had to do would still be there tomorrow.
On the ride home (thank goodness I had ridden my bike that day -- the National's game traffic would have been the Last Straw if I had been in my car), I reviewed the day, wallowing in the crappiness of the whole thing. And I realized, while the decisions related to each of these issues are very important, no one was going to directly die because of them. No boat crewman was going to be pitched into the water from the small boat, to be run over by the ship's screws; no person in the water was not not going to be spotted by the lookout and rescued after 11 hours in the ocean; no flight deck crew was going to be sliced in two by the spinning blades of a hovering helo; no engineer was going to be sprayed with fuel oil and engulfed in flames in an engine room fire. It's good to put things into perspective.
Tuesday started with a better attitude and I jumped right in. Until the first meeting of the day, at which point, a little bit of office logistical news was inadvertently leaked before its proper time. I got spun up about the rationale behind the decision, feeding off the righteous indignation of the other Reviewers and shutting the office door numerous times to rail against life being so damn unfair. Not much work got done that day -- and I don't think it was just because the movers were packing up our spaces for the pending move to St E's, trying their very best not to get too much in our way.
But there was 1700 meeting to plan high level strategy about a Very Important Decision, to which I was invited. I don't always get invited to these kinds of meetings -- I have niche role, specialized in personnel, and while people are everywhere, these strategy meetings are typically about politics, which is definitely *not* my specialty. And when I have attended these type meetings in the past, I haven't ever said much. This time was different though, for some reason. I had input which the other attendees valued and incorporated into the plan. It was very satisfying...the small victories count.
Wednesday started with the chaos surrounding the move to St E's slowing expanding; yellow bins were everywhere in the office, next to the shred bins, next to the disposal bins. I don't like that moving day feeling, knowing there are a thousand little tasks left to do but not wanting to start on them too soon because you might need something you've already packed. Haha!! I tried to be proactive with my packing, and put the binders from my shelves into crates on Monday -- fifteen minutes later I was digging through the crates in search of my FY13 and FY14 CJs (Congressional Justifications) because I needed to look something up. I brought the CJs home with me on Thursday, in case I needed to reference them while working from home on Friday.
So while the moving day chaos was building momentum and rage, we were still trying to help the FY15 Coordinator get the budget built for submission to the Department next week. Tables and displays and write-ups and object class spreads and personnel counts...for every single appropriation. It is a huge task that takes a lot of time and attention. Each Reviewer is tasked with making sure their program's stuff is done and compiled. I remember the process from last year, and was able to bang through my stuff pretty easily, after a few fits and starts of trying to recall approximately what the end product was supposed to look like. Unfortunately, new Reviewers don't have the benefit of that experience and usually end up frustrated because they don't know exactly what to do. They're usually smart enough to ask one of the seasoned Reviewers what the hell is going on.
Earlier in the week, a new Reviewer asked for my help with trying to wrangle hir program stuff into what the Coordinator needed. I gave hir some general guidance, completely forgetting that this was entirely new to hir. On Wednesday, I asked the Coordinator what s/he needed help with to keep things moving along. S/he asked me to work with the new Reviewer to make sure hir stuff was in the proper format, with the required information. I probably could have avoided the whole situation if I had given better information the first time around. Needless to say, s/he was annoyed at having to go back and redo some work because the expectations weren't clearly stated at the beginning. The whole process is not intuitive, requires detective work, and you've got to know where to look for stuff...heck, you've got to know what you're looking for in the first place. Yet another communication fail on my part. At least I didn't have to close my office door afterwards this time.
At some point during the week, I realized if I didn't just *make* the time to submit my e-resume, the 1 Sep deadline would creep up on me unawares like some little sneaky-sneak, and then I'd be scrambling to get it submitted. So I took a few moments to prioritize the boats one last time. I only put seven ships on my list -- I figure if I can't get one of those seven, I'd like a call from the Detailer to talk about why, and have a conversation about alternatives. I hesitated, hemmed and hawed, wished and washed, and in general procrastinated hitting "submit" for as long as possible on the dang thing. But I finally amassed the gumption to press go, and away it went. Now I wait.
One last piece of major business got taken care of on Wednesday. CG-8 signed a memo I've been working on for a while, with major personnel implications including a direct relation to individuals' lives, political and financial impacts, and kind of the whole future of the Coast Guard-thing going for it. I was very glad to get the project moving. It's not done, not by a long-shot, but it's started. And that's better than when the week started.
Thursday was a blur of packing the last of my stuff, cleaning up common spaces, trekking stuff to the car, with small bursts of actual work getting done at the peripheries. I left at 1550, as the movers were invading to make this move a reality. I wasn't sure what to do with myself, getting home before 1700. I think I actually made dinner that night, instead of just grazing from the fridge.
Next Monday I'll start work in our new St E's offices. I'm excited about it...and more than anything, glad the turmoil of last week is over.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Assignment Year 2014
We've got lots of years in the Coast Guard...calendar years, Assignment Years, fiscal years, promotion years...they all serve their individual purposes, but I'm particularly excited about Assignment Year 2014 (AY 14). Actually, I'm not sure "excited" is really the right word. Nervous, maybe; anticipating, yes; frustrated, maybe a smidge.
An Assignment Year encompasses the whole military personnel assignment timeline, from Personnel Service Command (PSC) kick-off in early summer to actually changing jobs the next summer. The timelines are ever so slightly different when comparing the enlisted and officer corps because of Promotion Year impacts on the officer side -- the enlisted folks tend to get their orders (which means knowing where they're going) two to four months earlier than the officers. And just because I understand from a system perspective *why* that is, doesn't mean I particularly like it very much.
Now, I haven't had an AY like this one in a while...like since 2008, when I was leaving HAMILTON. Even then, I found out super early (Christmas-time!!) where I was going because I had to head to pre-deployment training less than two months later. And the AY before that I didn't take seriously because I didn't expect to receive orders because I would be short-touring from the D14 Command Center. And the AY before that was a no-cost transfer from the WASHINGTON to the D14 CC; figured it was an easy box to check for the Detailer.
Oh, so more scene setting -- Detailers, or Assignment Officers, are the folks at PSC, Officer Personnel Management (OPM) more specifically for me (Enlisted Personnel Management (EPM) for the enlisted side), that actually do the grunt work of figuring out where everybody should go. They have "slates" they have to fill, all the jobs that will be empty the following year that they have to shuffle people into from the list of people available. I've never done it, but it sounds like doing a puzzle, in 3D while underway in a hurricane...in the forward berthing area of a WPB 110 (what we call the "anti-gravity chamber")...with maybe some of the pieces missing...and the picture changing while they're working on it.
The last few transfer seasons for me have been relatively easy. When I left HAMILTON, going to MAUI, I knew I shouldn't have any troubles getting my first choice afterwards. And after KISKA, I knew I had grad school all lined up, deferred so I could take the command opportunity. And after grad school, I knew I'd be somewhere at HQ. Some of the details may have been fuzzy, but not the level of uncertainty I'm facing this go-round.
This AY is different for other reasons too. I'm at the point in my career where I have to start looking at assignment possibilities with some strategic intent. This next job has impacts on the job after it, which will affect the one following...and so on. I haven't really looked at my assignments like that before, instead just kind of bouncing from one thing to the next based on what sounded good right then. Luckily, and probably unwittingly, I made some really good choices. But I guess I realized, or it sunk in, sometime when I was on HAMILTON, that I am a Cutterman. And a Cutterman should be afloat. And for me that means that when my career is over and I'm retiring, it should be from the deck of a ship, not from some land-based office job, no matter how important. So that became my goal -- to retire as CO from a ship. I haven't settled on whether that will be as an O-5, or if I have the where-with-all to shoot for an O-6 command, but at least the concept is sound.
But that means that this next job, coming off a staff tour, has to be operational. I would want it to be anyway. I've been away from the sea for three years already, which is too long. I want to go back afloat -- so for me right now that means an XO on a WMEC, either a 210 or a 270, or OPS on a WMSL (the newest ships in the fleet -- the National Security Cutters). The last conversation I had with the afloat detailer was all about how the O-4 XO slate was one of the most competitive in his portfolio. Lots of highly qualified and dedicated people all jockeying for a limited number of positions...no pressure there. And if I get a 210, does that limit my ability to get a 270 CO ride as an O-5? And if I don't get a 270 CO ride, how does that affect my chances of getting an O-6 command? I know what the conventional wisdom is, but I've seen some instances where conventional wisdom didn't explain the whole story.
So I've narrowed it down that far. There are still more choices, though. How do I prioritize the list of probably 15 boats that are open next year? 210s have better homeport locations, 270s have better operational capabilities. I don't have any Atlantic Area experience to speak of, so at least that narrows the field some. And I don't really care for cold weather, so D1 (New England area) will go on the list, but down towards the bottom. I've never done D7 ops, so Florida boats will likely be at the top of the list.
And there are the tours in between. Being in the same place for three whole years so far has given me the taste of stability, and I find that I really like it. It would be particularly divine to find a place to call home for the next few tours until I retire. Unfortunately, a premium is placed on operational diversity for senior officers; homesteading can sound a death knell faster than all but a handful of other things. So there are few places that I can ask for this time and expect even one follow-on tour, never mind two or three or four.
In my quest for a rational means of further prioritizing the list, I've researched other important characteristics of my top candidates. What is their maintenance schedule? Most, if not all, of these boats have been through a mid-life extension project (MEP), so I shouldn't have to mess with that. But they still have regularly scheduled drydocks and docksides, and based on previous experience, I really don't want to give up any more days of being operational than I have to sitting high and dry on blocks in a drydock or at the pier with a gaggle of yard-bird contractors infesting the ship.
And I've looked at who is CO, or slated to be CO. A few of the boats are on a rotational cycle where both the CO and XO change out the same year. What is more distressing: going into the unknown, or knowingly walking into a tough leadership situation? I don't think I know the answer to that one.
That's about the extent of what I care about when it comes to picking where to go. But again, this year is not like other years. All I get from the Rocket Scientist is that he likes Florida. Which is helpful, but definitely places the necessity to make a decision squarely back on my lap...or rather the Detailer's lap.
It's kind of funny in a really frustrating sort of way. For all the worrying and fretting and fake planning and stressing and analyzing and loss of sleep and..., you get the idea, it really doesn't matter where I get assigned. I just want to know where it is so all the rest of things can start falling into place. Looking for a place to live, narrowing the Rocket Scientist's job search to a general locality, and finally, when it gets a little closer, settling on a departure date and report date. All that stuff is still so far off in the future. And in the meantime, I'm stuck on the endless loop of prioritizing and reprioritizing my top five boats...move one to three and two up to one and three to four and five to six.
The shopping list comes out 1 Aug; e-resumes are due 1 Sep. Until then, I can't do anything *but* ponder and plan. And then...wait. Yup, that about sums up AY14.
An Assignment Year encompasses the whole military personnel assignment timeline, from Personnel Service Command (PSC) kick-off in early summer to actually changing jobs the next summer. The timelines are ever so slightly different when comparing the enlisted and officer corps because of Promotion Year impacts on the officer side -- the enlisted folks tend to get their orders (which means knowing where they're going) two to four months earlier than the officers. And just because I understand from a system perspective *why* that is, doesn't mean I particularly like it very much.
Now, I haven't had an AY like this one in a while...like since 2008, when I was leaving HAMILTON. Even then, I found out super early (Christmas-time!!) where I was going because I had to head to pre-deployment training less than two months later. And the AY before that I didn't take seriously because I didn't expect to receive orders because I would be short-touring from the D14 Command Center. And the AY before that was a no-cost transfer from the WASHINGTON to the D14 CC; figured it was an easy box to check for the Detailer.
Oh, so more scene setting -- Detailers, or Assignment Officers, are the folks at PSC, Officer Personnel Management (OPM) more specifically for me (Enlisted Personnel Management (EPM) for the enlisted side), that actually do the grunt work of figuring out where everybody should go. They have "slates" they have to fill, all the jobs that will be empty the following year that they have to shuffle people into from the list of people available. I've never done it, but it sounds like doing a puzzle, in 3D while underway in a hurricane...in the forward berthing area of a WPB 110 (what we call the "anti-gravity chamber")...with maybe some of the pieces missing...and the picture changing while they're working on it.
The last few transfer seasons for me have been relatively easy. When I left HAMILTON, going to MAUI, I knew I shouldn't have any troubles getting my first choice afterwards. And after KISKA, I knew I had grad school all lined up, deferred so I could take the command opportunity. And after grad school, I knew I'd be somewhere at HQ. Some of the details may have been fuzzy, but not the level of uncertainty I'm facing this go-round.
This AY is different for other reasons too. I'm at the point in my career where I have to start looking at assignment possibilities with some strategic intent. This next job has impacts on the job after it, which will affect the one following...and so on. I haven't really looked at my assignments like that before, instead just kind of bouncing from one thing to the next based on what sounded good right then. Luckily, and probably unwittingly, I made some really good choices. But I guess I realized, or it sunk in, sometime when I was on HAMILTON, that I am a Cutterman. And a Cutterman should be afloat. And for me that means that when my career is over and I'm retiring, it should be from the deck of a ship, not from some land-based office job, no matter how important. So that became my goal -- to retire as CO from a ship. I haven't settled on whether that will be as an O-5, or if I have the where-with-all to shoot for an O-6 command, but at least the concept is sound.
But that means that this next job, coming off a staff tour, has to be operational. I would want it to be anyway. I've been away from the sea for three years already, which is too long. I want to go back afloat -- so for me right now that means an XO on a WMEC, either a 210 or a 270, or OPS on a WMSL (the newest ships in the fleet -- the National Security Cutters). The last conversation I had with the afloat detailer was all about how the O-4 XO slate was one of the most competitive in his portfolio. Lots of highly qualified and dedicated people all jockeying for a limited number of positions...no pressure there. And if I get a 210, does that limit my ability to get a 270 CO ride as an O-5? And if I don't get a 270 CO ride, how does that affect my chances of getting an O-6 command? I know what the conventional wisdom is, but I've seen some instances where conventional wisdom didn't explain the whole story.
So I've narrowed it down that far. There are still more choices, though. How do I prioritize the list of probably 15 boats that are open next year? 210s have better homeport locations, 270s have better operational capabilities. I don't have any Atlantic Area experience to speak of, so at least that narrows the field some. And I don't really care for cold weather, so D1 (New England area) will go on the list, but down towards the bottom. I've never done D7 ops, so Florida boats will likely be at the top of the list.
And there are the tours in between. Being in the same place for three whole years so far has given me the taste of stability, and I find that I really like it. It would be particularly divine to find a place to call home for the next few tours until I retire. Unfortunately, a premium is placed on operational diversity for senior officers; homesteading can sound a death knell faster than all but a handful of other things. So there are few places that I can ask for this time and expect even one follow-on tour, never mind two or three or four.
And I've looked at who is CO, or slated to be CO. A few of the boats are on a rotational cycle where both the CO and XO change out the same year. What is more distressing: going into the unknown, or knowingly walking into a tough leadership situation? I don't think I know the answer to that one.
That's about the extent of what I care about when it comes to picking where to go. But again, this year is not like other years. All I get from the Rocket Scientist is that he likes Florida. Which is helpful, but definitely places the necessity to make a decision squarely back on my lap...or rather the Detailer's lap.
It's kind of funny in a really frustrating sort of way. For all the worrying and fretting and fake planning and stressing and analyzing and loss of sleep and..., you get the idea, it really doesn't matter where I get assigned. I just want to know where it is so all the rest of things can start falling into place. Looking for a place to live, narrowing the Rocket Scientist's job search to a general locality, and finally, when it gets a little closer, settling on a departure date and report date. All that stuff is still so far off in the future. And in the meantime, I'm stuck on the endless loop of prioritizing and reprioritizing my top five boats...move one to three and two up to one and three to four and five to six.
The shopping list comes out 1 Aug; e-resumes are due 1 Sep. Until then, I can't do anything *but* ponder and plan. And then...wait. Yup, that about sums up AY14.
Sunday, June 9, 2013
Help
I can't figure out why it's so hard to accept freely offered help. And why do I have lingering feelings of guilt and inadequacy for having outsourced three major household chores?
This line of self-examination is the culmination of a series of events and decisions from the last few months. In some ways it all started when I hired Upper Crust Maids to clean my house every other Friday. That was a year ago, and coming home those Fridays after Marta and her helper have been here is *awesome!* But while I pay the company a fairly decent sum for unskilled labor (I have no idea what they get paid), I still try to make sure the house is not a disaster, the dishes are not piled up in the sink from the last four days (like they are now), dirty clothes are actually *in* the laundry basket (instead of tossed towards the general end of the room where the laundry basket sits), and all the junk mail is off various horizontal surfaces and in the recycling bin.
And then there was the debacle with getting my motorcycle license in time for a road trip to Florida for vacation. Now, I fully admit I approached this whole thing with a fundamental flaw to my overall plan: yes, I tried to subvert the system...lie, as it were, because I thought the rules were stupid (side note: this experience did reinforce to me the problems as a leader with picking and choosing which rules to follow -- but that's a topic for another post). I went out to Hawaii in February to take the state's motorcycle safety test (again), so I wouldn't have to play by Maryland's stupid rules. Had a great trip, but forgot to take all the required documentation to prove that I am a US citizen and Hawaii resident. Foiled. So I came back and got my Maryland's learner permit. Now, the only restrictions on a Hawaii's learner's permit are that you can't carry a passenger or ride after dark, which is how I was able to ride across country without a full license. Maryland, however, requires that any rider riding with a learner's permit must ride with a fully licensed rider at all times. You mean...sputter, sputter, huff, huff, that I made it safely across 4,500 miles through this great nation, but now I have to have a *babysitter!?!* Whatevs...
That attitude served all well and good until I went to try taking my road test for the full license. First question they asked was, where is your licensed rider? I fibbed and said, he dropped me off and then left to go do other stuff. I was summarily and unabashedly shot down, told I was disqualified from taking the road test without my licensed rider present. Oh, and I had to have an appointment. Oh. My. Goodness. Absurd.
But reality. I left, frustrated and uncertain how to proceed. I didn't want to make an appointment without having a babysitter lined up, but how could I line up a sitter without being able to tell him/her when I'd need them? Thankfully, I have the *best* officemate in the world, and as I explained my self-imposed quandary to MC Hooligan, he came up with a plan to solve the whole mess. He suggested I make the appointment for the next available slot that didn't conflict with any scheduled meetings at work; he would ride his bike to work that day, and we'd leave from the office to head to the DMV. It worked perfectly...just like clockwork. Though both of us were completely astounded by the depth of requirement for having the licensed rider there...I could either push my bike (not even walk, straddling it) the 50 yards from where it was parked to the start of the test line, or MC could ride it there (visualize 6' 4" MC riding my Nightster..."monkey riding a football" was the phrase he used to describe it). Even after the test, he had to *walk alongside* me from the end of the test area back to a parking space so I could park the bike before going inside to get the actual license. We still shake our heads about it when the subject comes us. But mad, huge, crazy thanks to MC for ...hell, just being himself!
Next was a little situation after a morning workout. I usually ride my bicycle to work three days a week. I try to get to the morning "Phit" class at least once a week, preferably two...which means at least one day of a two-a-day, where I'm riding my bike and going to class on the same day. Nothing too unusual about it. But this one day, we did 100s...100 push-ups, 100 sit ups, 100 squats, burpees, body rows, and I think there may have been one more, but I can't remember. I did ok through the workout. Had to push it kind of hard on the last set of 20 each...probably held my breath more than I should have. I felt a little wobbly on the way out of the gym, but who doesn't after that kind of exertion? Once I was in the shower, though, things started going downhill...nauseous, shaky, sight graying out on the edges of my vision. I managed to finish, but had to go straight to the locker room bench and sit down as soon as I got out. Thankfully there were a couple of other girls in the locker room with me, and I guess I looked horrible enough they knew I was in trouble. One of them asked I wanted her to go get some help. If she hadn't asked that question, I don't think I would have volunteered that I needed help. But because she offered, it was so much easier to say, yes, please. She went running off to medical. Laying down was easier than sitting down, which was easier than standing up. So there I was, laid out on the locker room bench.
The cavalry arrived in the form of a very capable and efficient HS2, armed with a bp cuff and a bottle of oxygen. The other girl was so sweet about getting all my gym gear stowed away in my locker, and handing me clothes so I could make my way down the hall to medical with some shred of dignity. Side note: one of my most *mortifying* moments in Headquarters (so far) -- being wheeled down main pass in a wheel chair because they weren't sure I could walk that far without passing out. I made it safe and sound to medical, where Doc checked me out.
Turns out my blood pressure was super low. Not sure why...they said dehydration, but I usually drink at least 4 20 ounce bottles of water a day, so I have my doubts about that (I was really nervous about it until I talked to my sister who said she started experiencing the same thing at about my age (gotta love getting older). I'm keeping an eye on it, trying to make sure I breathe even in the middle of sit ups and push ups. I ran a really hilly 10k this morning, and felt fine...well, felt great actually.).
Some time while all this other drama was going on, I decided I didn't want to have to find the time on the weekends or in the evenings after work to mow the lawn, a chore I really don't like. I never do a very good job, and that damn string on the weed eater makes me crazy as I try to cut along the chain link fence. There's a guy that a couple of the families in the neighborhood use, and at $30 every 10 days to two weeks...I call it a dag-gone good bargain.
And it took me an entire weekend, like two days of 6 hours a day, sitting out in my front yard weeding the blueberry beds along the front walk, to admit that I needed help with my garden too. An entire *weekend,* and I hadn't even touched the red raspberries, the black raspberries, the grapes or the three raised beds...those critical spring planting hours were dribbling away, lost through my fingers.
Love and Carrots to the rescue! Meredith came out for a garden evaluation, and told me it would be one of the easiest garden set-ups they had, especially since the automatic irrigation was already installed. I signed up for a visit every two weeks, and the garden looks fantastic! One of my particularly pragmatic relatives pointed out that by the end of it, my tomatoes would probably cost $10 each, but heck, I've got a brown thumb, and I still want to call myself a gardener! Oh, vanity! Meredith did jokingly call me "borgie" when I started naming off all the projects I would probably have to hire help for around the house. I took it with the best grace I could...I'm a yuppie. I know it. (hang head)
In the middle of all these manifestations of neediness, the Rocket Scientist and I had a conversation about asking for help (I wish I had written this post when I meant to, two months ago, so that I could have quoted the conversation exactly...Google Hangouts' history doesn't go back that far). The basics of it were that I was frustrated with feeling like I had to ask for help for so much stuff, and it made me feel weak and needy. His response was that asking for help was not about being weak, it was just about not being able to do something by yourself. And if that's how I thought about asking for help, I must think he's the weakest person around (AS IF!!), because he had asked for help with so much stuff lately too (this was right around the time I went down to AL to help him with a yard sale -- lots of junk *gone* traded for $350 cash-- *SCORE!!*). I said I *offered* to help him out with the yard sale. And that offering help is some people's way of showing love and support, not judgement on weakness.
Now, I'm just not sure why that's how I look at *offering* help, but I look at *asking* for help as admitting weakness...seems like a particularly unfair and schizophrenic bifurcation of the help coin. Writing it all out like this has definitely helped me see the flaw in my perceptions. I think I'll always be a little uncomfortable about asking for help, which is probably for the best. It helps me find that right balance between being independent and capable, and being a contributing part of a community, able to both give and receive.
This line of self-examination is the culmination of a series of events and decisions from the last few months. In some ways it all started when I hired Upper Crust Maids to clean my house every other Friday. That was a year ago, and coming home those Fridays after Marta and her helper have been here is *awesome!* But while I pay the company a fairly decent sum for unskilled labor (I have no idea what they get paid), I still try to make sure the house is not a disaster, the dishes are not piled up in the sink from the last four days (like they are now), dirty clothes are actually *in* the laundry basket (instead of tossed towards the general end of the room where the laundry basket sits), and all the junk mail is off various horizontal surfaces and in the recycling bin.
And then there was the debacle with getting my motorcycle license in time for a road trip to Florida for vacation. Now, I fully admit I approached this whole thing with a fundamental flaw to my overall plan: yes, I tried to subvert the system...lie, as it were, because I thought the rules were stupid (side note: this experience did reinforce to me the problems as a leader with picking and choosing which rules to follow -- but that's a topic for another post). I went out to Hawaii in February to take the state's motorcycle safety test (again), so I wouldn't have to play by Maryland's stupid rules. Had a great trip, but forgot to take all the required documentation to prove that I am a US citizen and Hawaii resident. Foiled. So I came back and got my Maryland's learner permit. Now, the only restrictions on a Hawaii's learner's permit are that you can't carry a passenger or ride after dark, which is how I was able to ride across country without a full license. Maryland, however, requires that any rider riding with a learner's permit must ride with a fully licensed rider at all times. You mean...sputter, sputter, huff, huff, that I made it safely across 4,500 miles through this great nation, but now I have to have a *babysitter!?!* Whatevs...
That attitude served all well and good until I went to try taking my road test for the full license. First question they asked was, where is your licensed rider? I fibbed and said, he dropped me off and then left to go do other stuff. I was summarily and unabashedly shot down, told I was disqualified from taking the road test without my licensed rider present. Oh, and I had to have an appointment. Oh. My. Goodness. Absurd.
But reality. I left, frustrated and uncertain how to proceed. I didn't want to make an appointment without having a babysitter lined up, but how could I line up a sitter without being able to tell him/her when I'd need them? Thankfully, I have the *best* officemate in the world, and as I explained my self-imposed quandary to MC Hooligan, he came up with a plan to solve the whole mess. He suggested I make the appointment for the next available slot that didn't conflict with any scheduled meetings at work; he would ride his bike to work that day, and we'd leave from the office to head to the DMV. It worked perfectly...just like clockwork. Though both of us were completely astounded by the depth of requirement for having the licensed rider there...I could either push my bike (not even walk, straddling it) the 50 yards from where it was parked to the start of the test line, or MC could ride it there (visualize 6' 4" MC riding my Nightster..."monkey riding a football" was the phrase he used to describe it). Even after the test, he had to *walk alongside* me from the end of the test area back to a parking space so I could park the bike before going inside to get the actual license. We still shake our heads about it when the subject comes us. But mad, huge, crazy thanks to MC for ...hell, just being himself!
Next was a little situation after a morning workout. I usually ride my bicycle to work three days a week. I try to get to the morning "Phit" class at least once a week, preferably two...which means at least one day of a two-a-day, where I'm riding my bike and going to class on the same day. Nothing too unusual about it. But this one day, we did 100s...100 push-ups, 100 sit ups, 100 squats, burpees, body rows, and I think there may have been one more, but I can't remember. I did ok through the workout. Had to push it kind of hard on the last set of 20 each...probably held my breath more than I should have. I felt a little wobbly on the way out of the gym, but who doesn't after that kind of exertion? Once I was in the shower, though, things started going downhill...nauseous, shaky, sight graying out on the edges of my vision. I managed to finish, but had to go straight to the locker room bench and sit down as soon as I got out. Thankfully there were a couple of other girls in the locker room with me, and I guess I looked horrible enough they knew I was in trouble. One of them asked I wanted her to go get some help. If she hadn't asked that question, I don't think I would have volunteered that I needed help. But because she offered, it was so much easier to say, yes, please. She went running off to medical. Laying down was easier than sitting down, which was easier than standing up. So there I was, laid out on the locker room bench.
The cavalry arrived in the form of a very capable and efficient HS2, armed with a bp cuff and a bottle of oxygen. The other girl was so sweet about getting all my gym gear stowed away in my locker, and handing me clothes so I could make my way down the hall to medical with some shred of dignity. Side note: one of my most *mortifying* moments in Headquarters (so far) -- being wheeled down main pass in a wheel chair because they weren't sure I could walk that far without passing out. I made it safe and sound to medical, where Doc checked me out.
Turns out my blood pressure was super low. Not sure why...they said dehydration, but I usually drink at least 4 20 ounce bottles of water a day, so I have my doubts about that (I was really nervous about it until I talked to my sister who said she started experiencing the same thing at about my age (gotta love getting older). I'm keeping an eye on it, trying to make sure I breathe even in the middle of sit ups and push ups. I ran a really hilly 10k this morning, and felt fine...well, felt great actually.).
Some time while all this other drama was going on, I decided I didn't want to have to find the time on the weekends or in the evenings after work to mow the lawn, a chore I really don't like. I never do a very good job, and that damn string on the weed eater makes me crazy as I try to cut along the chain link fence. There's a guy that a couple of the families in the neighborhood use, and at $30 every 10 days to two weeks...I call it a dag-gone good bargain.
And it took me an entire weekend, like two days of 6 hours a day, sitting out in my front yard weeding the blueberry beds along the front walk, to admit that I needed help with my garden too. An entire *weekend,* and I hadn't even touched the red raspberries, the black raspberries, the grapes or the three raised beds...those critical spring planting hours were dribbling away, lost through my fingers.
Love and Carrots to the rescue! Meredith came out for a garden evaluation, and told me it would be one of the easiest garden set-ups they had, especially since the automatic irrigation was already installed. I signed up for a visit every two weeks, and the garden looks fantastic! One of my particularly pragmatic relatives pointed out that by the end of it, my tomatoes would probably cost $10 each, but heck, I've got a brown thumb, and I still want to call myself a gardener! Oh, vanity! Meredith did jokingly call me "borgie" when I started naming off all the projects I would probably have to hire help for around the house. I took it with the best grace I could...I'm a yuppie. I know it. (hang head)
In the middle of all these manifestations of neediness, the Rocket Scientist and I had a conversation about asking for help (I wish I had written this post when I meant to, two months ago, so that I could have quoted the conversation exactly...Google Hangouts' history doesn't go back that far). The basics of it were that I was frustrated with feeling like I had to ask for help for so much stuff, and it made me feel weak and needy. His response was that asking for help was not about being weak, it was just about not being able to do something by yourself. And if that's how I thought about asking for help, I must think he's the weakest person around (AS IF!!), because he had asked for help with so much stuff lately too (this was right around the time I went down to AL to help him with a yard sale -- lots of junk *gone* traded for $350 cash-- *SCORE!!*). I said I *offered* to help him out with the yard sale. And that offering help is some people's way of showing love and support, not judgement on weakness.
Now, I'm just not sure why that's how I look at *offering* help, but I look at *asking* for help as admitting weakness...seems like a particularly unfair and schizophrenic bifurcation of the help coin. Writing it all out like this has definitely helped me see the flaw in my perceptions. I think I'll always be a little uncomfortable about asking for help, which is probably for the best. It helps me find that right balance between being independent and capable, and being a contributing part of a community, able to both give and receive.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Smart
Something I've been pondering lately is what makes someone smart. I say it lots, that I'm working with some of the smartest people I've ever met before, but what does that really mean? Is it being witty? Well-read? Good data recall? Plain ol' hard work? Lots of technical knowledge? A big vocabulary? The ability to think brand new thoughts? Or put old ideas into a new order?
And I guess this is partly me trying to come to grips with being part of the -82 legacy...I don't think I'm particularly smart. I know I don't mind working hard (though two weeks straight of at least 11-hour days is eroding a bit of my enthusiasm...I have *no idea* how the folks back in Aft Steering or some of the other reviewers do it. They're there when I get to the office a few minutes after 0700, and still there when I leave 11-12 hours later.). I know I can multi-task. I know I can process complexities. I know I communicate well (as long as I can use cuss-words liberally)...which really means I know I listen more than I talk -- though I'm pretty sure some Programs would vehemently disagree about my self-proclaimed lack of verbosity. And I can extemporize with a certain amount of skill, as long as I have a decent sense of whatever subject on which I am pontificating.
But I don't think I'm particularly good at developing new ideas or putting together old ones in new ways. I'm not very good at analysis -- knowing what questions to ask to learn more about something...I don't know what I don't know. I tend to accept things at face value, even when there is an obvious question begging to be asked. I like to simplify things, break them down into little pieces, even when that degrades nuances. And I have my biases...too numerous to mention here; but those small-minded little assumptions that are the foundation upon which I build all my thoughts and perceptions.
So all this has led me to the question of what makes smart? Looking at the other people in the office who definitely personify the smartness of the office, I'm gonna boil smart down to three basic qualities: people skills, technical abilities or knowledge, and common sense. In our office at least, people skills manifest as wit: a sharp running commentary, witty repartee, quick comebacks and hilarious quotes that are logged, voted on and memorialized on members' departing plaques. While I think wit is indicative of the ability to quickly process information, make subtle connections from seemingly disparate bits of data, it also shows a keen ability to read people and know what might tickle their funny bone, or touch their hearts, or fire them up.
MC Hooligan has *mad* people skills -- I don't know which came first, the people skills or the 20-some-odd years as a state trooper in the Northeast. But he has an amazing ability to pick up very subtle cues, understand motivations, sense anomalies, and connect with all kinds of people. We talked about the people skills aspect of smart late last week. Our conclusion was that people skills are grounded in a genuine interest in people, concern for their welfare and desire to make connections and understand the human condition. Without that authentic-ness, a person feels...off in some way. But that genuine-ness can go a long way towards compensating for social awkwardness (or, in my case, lack of social grace). It was a great discussion; I'll have more excerpts from it a little further along in this post.
Technical abilities and/or knowledge is the book smarts that some people just seem born with. Book smarts can be learned, I think, with enough effort, dedication and time studying, but I think it just comes naturally to some people. While there is a component of data recall to this aspect, what I'm really talking about is the deep internalizing of that information so that it becomes a basic component of how people think.
And common sense is, well, umm, kinda hard to actually pin down. Maybe, an ability to apply the rules of a generally accepted reality to any situation. Or maybe it's a foundational acceptance of the adage, "don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good." Or when something sounds ridiculous, it usually is. I don't know...how do you explain common sense?
So we've got these three components of smart. In all his wisdom, MC Hooligan made this make sense too: the strongest of any shape is a triangle; and the strongest triangle is an equilateral triangle with all sides equal. Our three smart qualities make the triangle, and the smartest people, or maybe the most successful people have each of the strengths in equal, or nearly equal, abundance. I like the simplicity of it.
And I guess this is partly me trying to come to grips with being part of the -82 legacy...I don't think I'm particularly smart. I know I don't mind working hard (though two weeks straight of at least 11-hour days is eroding a bit of my enthusiasm...I have *no idea* how the folks back in Aft Steering or some of the other reviewers do it. They're there when I get to the office a few minutes after 0700, and still there when I leave 11-12 hours later.). I know I can multi-task. I know I can process complexities. I know I communicate well (as long as I can use cuss-words liberally)...which really means I know I listen more than I talk -- though I'm pretty sure some Programs would vehemently disagree about my self-proclaimed lack of verbosity. And I can extemporize with a certain amount of skill, as long as I have a decent sense of whatever subject on which I am pontificating.
But I don't think I'm particularly good at developing new ideas or putting together old ones in new ways. I'm not very good at analysis -- knowing what questions to ask to learn more about something...I don't know what I don't know. I tend to accept things at face value, even when there is an obvious question begging to be asked. I like to simplify things, break them down into little pieces, even when that degrades nuances. And I have my biases...too numerous to mention here; but those small-minded little assumptions that are the foundation upon which I build all my thoughts and perceptions.
So all this has led me to the question of what makes smart? Looking at the other people in the office who definitely personify the smartness of the office, I'm gonna boil smart down to three basic qualities: people skills, technical abilities or knowledge, and common sense. In our office at least, people skills manifest as wit: a sharp running commentary, witty repartee, quick comebacks and hilarious quotes that are logged, voted on and memorialized on members' departing plaques. While I think wit is indicative of the ability to quickly process information, make subtle connections from seemingly disparate bits of data, it also shows a keen ability to read people and know what might tickle their funny bone, or touch their hearts, or fire them up.
MC Hooligan has *mad* people skills -- I don't know which came first, the people skills or the 20-some-odd years as a state trooper in the Northeast. But he has an amazing ability to pick up very subtle cues, understand motivations, sense anomalies, and connect with all kinds of people. We talked about the people skills aspect of smart late last week. Our conclusion was that people skills are grounded in a genuine interest in people, concern for their welfare and desire to make connections and understand the human condition. Without that authentic-ness, a person feels...off in some way. But that genuine-ness can go a long way towards compensating for social awkwardness (or, in my case, lack of social grace). It was a great discussion; I'll have more excerpts from it a little further along in this post.
Technical abilities and/or knowledge is the book smarts that some people just seem born with. Book smarts can be learned, I think, with enough effort, dedication and time studying, but I think it just comes naturally to some people. While there is a component of data recall to this aspect, what I'm really talking about is the deep internalizing of that information so that it becomes a basic component of how people think.
And common sense is, well, umm, kinda hard to actually pin down. Maybe, an ability to apply the rules of a generally accepted reality to any situation. Or maybe it's a foundational acceptance of the adage, "don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good." Or when something sounds ridiculous, it usually is. I don't know...how do you explain common sense?
So we've got these three components of smart. In all his wisdom, MC Hooligan made this make sense too: the strongest of any shape is a triangle; and the strongest triangle is an equilateral triangle with all sides equal. Our three smart qualities make the triangle, and the smartest people, or maybe the most successful people have each of the strengths in equal, or nearly equal, abundance. I like the simplicity of it.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Catching Up
Here's what's been going on since early March:
-- Sequestration went into effect. There were lots of external Qs (questions) to answer.
-- I finally caved and got my Maryland motorcycle learner's permit on the way to getting a real, legit license. It hurt to give up my Hawaii license, but it was due entirely to my lack of looking at the identification requirements before going to Oahu. `
-- A major workforce management decision memo was signed. Pretty sure that I'll be working on responding to questions about that here within the next few weeks.
-- Congress passed an FY 2013 appropriation for DHS...not just a CR (Continuing Resolution). There are mechanical differences for how accounts are managed between the two.
-- My cousin, her boyfriend and my *sister* came to visit! Yay!! They had planned separate visits, but ended up here on the same weekend which was awesomely cool to get to hang out with all of them. My sister and I walked miles and miles on the Mall. In a stunning oversight of awareness, we ended up on the Mall the day of the International Kite Festival that was part of the Cherry Blossom Festival. It was crowded, but so cool to see all the kites free and easy in the breeze. We were still too early for the cherry blossoms though.
-- The FY 2014 President's Budget was released. The Qs have been coming fast and furious for the last few days, and will likely continue to do so for the near future.
-- I dropped my lawnmower and weed eater off at the appliance repair place for a pre-summer tune up nearly a month ago. I've stopped by a couple of times now to pick it up. The first time it wasn't ready (they were waiting on carburetor kits); the second time they were closed for a medical emergency. I really hope I can get the tools back soon...the weeds are starting to get outta control.
-- We're working on a fast-approaching deadline for submission to DHS for FY 2015. I've got a couple of items for which I am responsible. No pressure...we're just talking $50 million to $70 million. No biggie.
-- One of my immediate family members is going through some health issues. It's scary and there's nothing I can do right now to help. There might not be anything I'm ever able to do to help.
-- The first round of departures have started from our office. JZ headed out late last month. He is missed. New folks won't start showing up until mid-June. We have some gaps in the office. We're managing.
-- I got a bunch new gear for The Old Man, getting ready for a road trip to Florida in May. The Old Man has a new windshield, new saddle bags, a new *seat pad!*, and I got a new helmet. And my friend/neighbor, Molly, got me my Hawaii license plates!! Yay...and thank you, thank you, thank you, Mols!!!
-- The personnel ladder chart was finalized for FY 2014 roll-out. It includes a technical footnote required by some assumptions we made about FY 2013 that were proven wrong by the FY 2013 Enacted Appropriation. Apparently, the footnote made things very confusing. Guess what -- the dang thing is confusing to begin with!! The footnote at least points readers in the right direction to be able to figure out what happened. Harumph.
-- I'm trying to kick processed foods and refined sugars. The refined sugars are kicking my ass. Donuts, Easter candy, *jelly beans* (I love jelly beans), Cadbury creme eggs, cookies, brownies, ice cream...so hard to resist. I had one day last week where I didn't eat any refined sugar. Just one day. I'll keep trying.
-- Spring has sprung...finally! I was getting really tired of riding my bicycle in to work with so many layers on I could barely move, and still feel like my lungs were burning from the cold. So very very nice to ride with shorts and a t-shirt on!
Here's what I haven't done: write. Not one word outside of work. I mean, at work, I write every day...long, obnoxiously explanatory emails, talking points, OERs, awards, edits...all kinds of stuff. But that's not for me. Obviously, it's shown in the fact that I haven't posted for six weeks. But it's Very Difficult to write in this forum about what I'm doing now. The pre-decisional side is only one small piece.
The larger, harder piece is that I don't necessarily always agree with leadership decisions. While I don't have much refined sensitivities about Coast Guard, internal Headquarters politics, I am just barely savvy enough to understand that whining about decisions made by senior leadership will not enhance my career, and depending upon how egregious the whining is, could be detrimental. I like my career. I don't want to end it prematurely in that particular fashion.
Now, on the other hand, there have been a few decisions recently that I think are stupendously inspiring and support whole-heartedly. They are decisions that show vision, and understanding of organizational needs in a changing world. Just the stuff that I think we need much much more of right now.
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