“Never attribute to maliciousness that which is attributable to ignorance.” — LtGen Carl G. O'Berry Some leadership lessons don’t come from textbooks or formal training—they’re etched into our memories, sometimes quite literally. In my memoir, The Accidental...
When I wrote “The Accidental Executive”, my goal was to share a story about discovering purpose and making an impact through public service. While memoirs about civil service may speak to a niche audience, this audience holds deep significance for me. Seeing the book...
“The year was 1974, and the world outside the windows was abuzz with change and upheaval in the Cold War, post–Vietnam War era. The sign above the door read DEFENSE COMMUNICATIONS AGENCY. A white sign with black lettering next to the door read Defense Commercial Communications Office, or DECCO. Crossing the threshold of this drab building, I stepped out of the steam of the Southern Illinois summer and into the soup of US government civil service, where mission met bureaucracy. Walking through the door and down the hall, plodding across the waxed and worn linoleum tile floor, I noticed a faint squeaking noise coming from my recently shined shoes. When I finally found the correct office number, I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and stepped into this strange new world, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead. The squeaking sound of my shoes stopped, replaced by a whisper of uncertainty.”
My father often joked that every inanimate object was home to mischievous gremlins, whose sole mission was to annoy us in any way possible. If an engine bolt fell out of my hands and landed in a clearly visible but very hot and inaccessible location, it was those darn little tricksters at work. When a tool broke, it was just the gremlins having fun. By blaming these annoyances on our invisible foes, he taught me to see setbacks as chances for perspective, not frustration. My father also taught me that these gremlins can always be defeated with patience and perseverance. Just keep trying, and sooner or later, they’ll give up.
Excerpt from “The Accidental Executive: Finding Purpose in Public Service” Chapter 12: A Full Circle of Purpose
Looking back over fifty years to that summer I spent as a GS-1 clerk at Scott Air Force Base, I can now answer the question I asked back then: “Was being ‘good enough for government work’ going to be good enough for me?” It’s a question that has echoed through the decades, a constant reminder of the low bar often assumed by those who misunderstand the true meaning of public service. But it was more than just a question about a career; it was a question about my values.
Here’s what I’ve learned over these years: Public service is not about “good enough.” It’s about doing work that matters, work that has the potential to affect the lives of others in meaningful ways. It’s about working toward a mission greater than yourself. The “good enough” cliché was a misrepresentation of the dedication and perseverance I witnessed throughout my career. The standard I saw was high, because that was the standard our citizens and veterans deserved and the standard I set for myself.
It was never about being perfect or extraordinary. It was about making a difference, even a small difference, where and when it mattered. It was about striving to create positive outcomes, even when the road was difficult. And it was about knowing that my efforts contributed to something beyond myself—a mission that gave my career meaning and my life purpose.
And that, I can say without hesitation, is where I found purpose in public service.