What a Jeep Crash Taught Me about Leadership

Recently, I came across Michael Asner’s article “Unicorns in Public Procurement—Empowering Procurement to Say “No!” (Full disclosure: I have it in printed form; I don’t know where to find it again.) In his article, Asner argues that Procurement should be “put in charge.” Placed in context, Procurement should be put in charge of orchestrating a good RFP. No other entity in the public sector is better qualified to perform this function.

He makes one very big point: Procurement is “the conduit and interface between the user group and contracting.” As simple as that—conduit and interface. Communication, transactions and, in fact, all activities required for the final award go through Procurement. Or they should. I agree that Procurement is best-suited for this because they specialize in cutting deals. And, as he notes, “they are often held responsible anyway if things go sideways, even when they don’t have the authority to force compliance.” In my experience, once things go bad, Procurement is always called to fix things up. We become the Cleanup Crew.

Asner goes on to say that there are “three critical success factors to ‘getting it right.’ You have to start with an accurate and complete statement of work. The RFP process has to be fair and the resulting contract has to be properly managed to protect the Agency.”

Put into my words, the success factors become:

1. Develop an accurate and complete statement of work
2. Solicit assistance from qualified resources
3. Manage the work to protect the owner

While Asner's article was written from the viewpoint of public procurement, I found that it applies just as much in the private sector.

In 2006, I was enjoying a four wheel drive trip with a group of friends in the Southern California desert. I was driving my 2-year-old Jeep Rubicon and my son-in-law was the passenger. He was deploying to the Middle East shortly, and as a US Marine Infantry Rifleman, would not get much driving time in the war zone. He asked if we could swap positions. I said, “Sure!” What could go wrong? I thought.

Five minutes later, the Jeep was on its side in the middle of the road.

As I climbed out of the heavily-damaged Jeep, I saw a cluster of fellow drivers approaching to help. Within minutes, broken glass was being shoveled into buckets, transmission fluid was being mopped up and winch lines were being attached in multiple places. At this point, my Jeep mentor, Larry, quietly told me that I needed to appoint a “superintendent” to manage the recovery, since it was my vehicle. He suggested Rick, who was watching the commotion from a distance with his hands in his pockets.

I took a deep breath, cupped my hands and spoke loudly to get everyone’s attention. I told them that Rick was going to be in charge of the recovery—that everyone should stop what they are doing and wait for him to issue instructions. Everyone stopped talking and stood still, looking in Rick’s direction. He calmly began to tell each person what he wanted and how it should be done. All of the straps and winch lines came off except one that he designated as appropriate. Another winch line was to be attached to the front of the Jeep. Everyone else was to stay out of the way. As I watched,

Rick was clarifying the statement of work.

Those individuals with nearby vehicles who could help were directed to specific tasks. Others were told to stand by.

Rick was soliciting assistance from qualified resources.

Now that resources were lined up and his work scope was defined, he directed each individual in his or her task.

He did it in a manner that protected my Jeep from further damage.

As the owner, I had spoken—and Rick was in charge.

Within minutes, the Jeep was on all four wheels and I was in the driver’s seat, preparing to steer it off the road for transportation home.

As I reflect on this 14 years later, I fully appreciate Larry’s wisdom in suggesting Rick be the superintendent. Someone had to be in charge—or the Jeep might have sustained further damage by unskilled, but well-intentioned friends. For that day, Rick was my conduit and interface with a group of very capable, but unsupervised four wheelers.