Your First Job in the US Air Force; A Trial of Character.

Google the US Air Force and you will undoubtedly see images of aircraft and women and men accomplishing feats with cutting-edge technology. Pull back the curtain on stereotypes and you might be surprised with the first job a new officer assigned to an operational US Air Force squadron is likely to receive. You, young upstart talent, are the proud recipient of the prestigious title, “Snack-O.” That’s the acronym. The actual title is even worse: “Snack Officer.” You are in charge of, responsible for, and leading a snack bar. Wait, whaaaaat? Yup. Regardless of your pedigree undergraduate education, experience as a leader on the athletic field, accomplishments in academic circles, or even your previous workplace experience as an intern at (insert impressive Fortune 100 Company here) this is your job. More specifically, this is your additional duty. You have a primary role as a pilot, operator, etc., but your leaders are asking you to take on this job as well. You are the proud new owner of a physical space stocked with food and drink. By food I mean candy bars to jalape?o popcorn and everything in-between; and by drink I mean bottled water from a Norwegian Fjord to craft beer to single malt scotch. Perhaps I’m exaggerating about the water from a Norwegian Fjord, perhaps not… At times the space is just a bookshelf. Other times it’s an area that would make your neighborhood pub jealous. Air Force squadrons can operate throughout the day at all hours and the snack bar represents an efficient way for team members to get food and drink and, at appropriate times, a gathering place for Friday afternoon happy hour events. The proceeds of which go right back into the organization, funding gifts for people departing the unit, organizational events, and financial help for unexpected life events. However, this isn’t about the snack bar. This is about the person that ran it and more specifically, how they ran it.  

The reaction of the officer receiving the Snack-O additional duty was somewhere between “resting murder face” (which btw, is the combination of a scowl and the half-interested look lions at the zoo get when watching pigeons) to resigned. A quick digression. I enjoy Chinese proverbs. Partly because who can argue a proverb? When was the last time you asked, “Was there really a Chinese philosopher in antiquity who said, “Chase two rabbits, catch none”? Never. Back to the article. One of my all-time favorites is by Lao Tzu who said, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” I enjoy people who state the obvious yet it comes across as mind-blowing philosophy. The journey begins with….A. Single. Step. Thing is, not only is the first step not glamourous, at times it can be difficult to accept. It can even be, in your mind, beneath you. Not in terms of status, but just in terms of what you are able to do, what you can contribute. After all, you want to make a difference. You want to live your purpose. You want to contribute to society in a way that makes everyone better. You want to help put the world in order and balance and make it a better place…cue a picture of stacked rocks on a beach, a path in a dense forest, or an eagle soaring majestically. How can managing Funyuns be the path to fulfillment and meaning and contribution? I ask this question because this is the question I asked when I got the job of Snack-O. 

Sometimes purpose comes disguised as work. And work can come disguised as a tool with a handle on it, and ditch needing to be dug. Welcome to your first step. I know, it sounded so much more romantic with Lao Tso said it. You have a bachelor’s degree in “fluid mechanical dynamic planetary astronomical physics” from that expensive and exclusive university. And yet here is your plot in life. Running this *#$^@ snack bar. And the beauty of the human condition is, simply, choice. Some Snack-O’s took the job literally. Ego’s bruised, they went to their local warehouse store and purchased supplies at bulk and restocked when necessary and made sure the operation ran as it had before. Some did less. And some saw potential. The ones that saw potential? They ran it with passion. It was always stocked, expanded, and inventory and specials advertised. They ran surveys to team members, asking what products they wanted. Single Malt Scotch? Check. Organic baby carrots? Um, okay. Sugar Free Red Bull? Got it. In short, they never saw a snack bar. They saw an opportunity to serve another. And here’s the thing, leadership was never looking at the snack bar, they were looking at character. It was about taking a concept and making it better. Did you, with all the enthusiasm of Giada De Laurentiis, connection of Voltron and power of Optimus Prime, did you step in and rattle the planet with your passion?

From being a Snack-O to being the Squadron Commander who assigned Snack-O’s duties, the job was always about how you reacted and how you left it better; how you served. As you take on that first job (or that first job in a new organization) this is what leadership is looking for:

1. Hustle (will you put in the effort to do what is necessary?)
2. Initiative (will you do it without being asked?)
3. Thought (will you make decisions based on analysis?)
4. Service (will take the opportunity to make it about someone else?)

You may get jobs that suck. At times these roles can be the playgrounds of improvement and the gyms of future purpose. Improve the now to put yourself in the position to improve tomorrow. If you want to get noticed, if you want more responsibility, perhaps it’s not about finding your voice or staking a claim or communicating your needs and desires, it’s about grabbing the current job with all your intellectual might and desire to make a difference and doing so. Hustle. Take the initiative to tear it apart. Make it better. Leave your mark.  Serve others. Even if it is just a snack bar. And if don’t believe me, listen to Lao Tzu.