Little Jobs Aren't Bad Jobs

The following is an excerpt from Say Yes: Foundational Lessons from Combat Town, the Quigley, and Taking Invisible Paths. Available on Amazon at https://bit.ly/3Y8fg0U .

People who know me well will say that I’m up for just about anything: New adventures, sports, physical challenges. I’ll try just about anything—once—and give it my best shot. Obviously, they have me pegged. What they may not know, though, is the reason behind that.

One of the more enjoyable roles I had in the Marines was as a flight instructor stationed in North Carolina. After new pilots earn their wings, training continues as they start the process of moving on from a training aircraft and begin to specialize in a specific airframe. That was the CH-53E Super Stallion for me, and that training squadron was in Marine Corps Air Station New River in North Carolina.?

In the fall of 2001, I had recently finished three years in a fleet squadron based out of Southern California; had completed two overseas deployments; and as a senior captain, had established myself as a strong pilot. My next assignment was to return to that first training squadron a few years after having graduated as a young lieutenant, this time not as a student but as the instructor, helping train the next generation of pilots.?

I should note that in every squadron, in addition to flying, pilots are assigned a collateral duty where they lead functional parts of a squadron, like the Maintenance or Operations department. Having been one of the more senior captains in the unit I was leaving, I had earned a coveted role as a future operations officer within the Operations department. Future Ops is responsible for long-range planning, ensuring squadron pilots are prepared for upcoming deployments, and coordinating with other units. It was a sought-after role, and I enjoyed that level of responsibility and authority.

Upon returning to my old unit in New River, though in a new capacity as an instructor and not a student, one of the first stops was to meet with the commanding officer. It was great to meet the CO and learn about his vision for leading the squadron and training new pilots and aircrew. Since he was a busy officer, that conversation was brief. I continued down the hall.

The next stop was to meet the executive officer, or XO. If the CO is equivalent to the CEO of a civilian business, the XO would be the COO. They run the day-to-day operations of the squadron, supervise the different department heads, and the good ones are generally known to be tough SOBs. In fact, one of the best XOs I ever worked with had the callsign Hatchetman, if that gives you a sense of the personality of a good XO.

After some pleasantries with the XO about my trip East and ensuring I had my housing and personal matters taken care of, we started speaking about my flying experience.

“I can see you are an accomplished pilot, Captain Michaels. Night systems instructor, flight leader, aerial refueling instructor, a couple of deployments overseas. Impressive. We can certainly use your experience. You’ll be a great addition to the squadron and corps of instructors.”

Okay. Off to a good start with the XO.?

“We’ve got some big plans for the coming months. The CO is talking about deploying nearly the entire squadron to Naval Air Station Key West for a few weeks as a training exercise, and that will be a heavy lift for the entire squadron, especially the Operations and Maintenance departments.”

I could see where the conversation was going. He needed to assign my collateral duty and was setting the stage for what was surely a plum assignment by referencing the Ops and the Maintenance departments.

There is a pecking order when it comes to these assignments. Working in the Maintenance and Operations departments is considered the most converted. Maintenance officers get to spend time with Marines on the flight line and lead larger groups. Operations work entails devel- oping training plans for the squadron and ultimately deciding who flies on what missions. Those are the places you want to be.

There are other roles, like leading the Logistics function, and even further down the line is being an administrative officer. Perhaps the lowest rung on the ladder? The S-5 officer. It’s hard to succinctly say exactly what the S-5 officer is responsible for; it doesn’t even have a catchy name, just an odd-sounding alpha-numeric combination.?

“So, Captain Michaels, you are going to be our S-5 officer. There is another officer rotating out of that duty, and he’s leaving for a new unit in a few days, so be sure to debrief with him ASAP. Otherwise, it’s good to have you aboard. Carry on.”

?What just happened??

The easiest way to put it is that the S-5 officer is responsible for all the stuff no one else wants to do. That’s why they give it to the new guy. Me.

One of the more visible functions of the S-5 is running the gee- dunk. Geedunk is a World War II-era term used to refer to a small snack bar. It’s often a tiny, nondescript room where a Marine can take a short break and quickly grab a soda or candy bar before getting back to work fixing helicopters on the flight line.

When you run the geedunk, you get to go into town and buy cases of drinks and boxes of snacks from the local warehouse store, then oversee selling them in that small room near the squadron flightline so they can be available to Marines who are looking for a quick snack and a cool drink. This is the exact opposite of what senior captains want to do. Managing the selling of sodas and chips is neither adventurous nor cool, nor the kind of thing you want to write home about.?

As I continued checking in and making the rounds of the squadron, one of my final stops of the day was Flight Equipment, the department that manages flight vests, helmets, and other aviation safety equipment. The staff sergeant in charge greeted me and inquired about where I’d be working when I wasn’t flying. I answered that my collateral duty was the S-5. I suspect he could see a lack of bounce in my step.

“Can I tell you something, Captain? I’m coming up on twenty years as a Marine. It’s inevitable that we all will eventually get an assignment we didn’t ask for. If there is anything I’ve learned, it’s that if you are going to do anything, then do it right. Run the best damn geedunk you can. The Marines will appreciate it.” And there it was. “Run the best damn geedunk you can.”?

Soon after, my responsibilities increased, though not necessarily in the way I desired. The S-5 is responsible for more than just the geedunk. I found that out in a subsequent conversation with the XO.

?“Captain Michaels. Congratulations. You are in charge of the squadron birthday ball this year. The general will be there. Make sure it’s great. Don’t screw it up.”

?“Yes, Sir.” Not much more to say than that.

?Once again, we are not talking about the glamorous role of leading Marines down on the flight line or determining flight schedules and who is going to get coveted night vision goggle flight hours.

Marines take the birthday of the Corps very seriously. On November 10 every year, we say “Happy Birthday” to one another as if it was our own birthday. We sing about the birthday while running in formation . . . “Back in 1775, my Marine Corps came alive!” is a popular ditty. The birthday ball is a significant event. Planning for it entails picking a menu, organizing music and decorations, coordinating a guest of honor, and being responsible for the ceremonial aspect of the celebration; it’s not unlike planning a wedding. It needs to be done, and the new guy on the block gets to do it.

Marines often use the colloquial phrase “Embrace the suck” when talking about how to make the best of any (usually bad) situation. You need to deal with it and take it in stride. Embrace the suck.

Throughout the rest of my career, both in the Marines and as a civilian, I was asked to run a lot of geedunks. There was mail to open, plants to water, floors to clean, and there were times when I needed to do those tasks. With every menial task, every job that I felt was below my title or job level, I looked back on my time running the S-5, buying candy bars and sodas for the geedunk and choosing music for the birthday ball. Much like Admiral McRaven observes in The Wisdom of the Bullfrog, I’ve found that if you take pride in your work and the results achieved in doing those little jobs, people would think you are worthy of bigger jobs.

?We all run a geedunk at some point, so if you want to be the best version of yourself you can, run the best damn geedunk you can.