Last week, I wrote about the value of seeing life through the lens of our interactions. This week, I’d like to share an example.
It was late 2004 or early 2005. I was a young junior officer in the U.S. Navy serving aboard USS Preble (DDG 88), which at the time was homeported in San Diego, Calif. I was at a crossroads in my Navy career. One path meant staying on active duty for at least a few more years; the other path meant leaving active duty within the next year or so.
I was leaning toward trying my hand at being a civilian. I thoroughly enjoyed many aspects of my Navy service, but I also wanted to pursue some other opportunities particularly as I anticipated starting married life at some point in the near future.
Two Conversations
At some point during this process of trying to figure out what I was going to do, the senior enlisted member of the crew, our ship’s Command Master Chief (CMC), pulled me aside. For those who aren’t well-versed in Navy structure, the CMC is an enlisted sailor who has essentially reached a very high level in his or her leadership journey and functions as a critical part of the organization’s leadership team. It’s not uncommon for the CMC to have had more years of Navy experience than a junior officer has had being alive.
The CMC began by saying, “Sir, I heard you’re thinking about getting out.” I responded in the affirmative, and gave some likely vague reasons behind how I was thinking about my decision.
He nodded understandingly. He then mentioned the fact that he had been around the Navy for quite a while and had worked with many officers of various levels and qualities—some good, some bad. And then he said, “I wouldn’t follow just any junior officer, but I’d follow you, sir.”
It was probably a 90-second conversation. I walked away feeling encouraged yet conflicted about the way I had been thinking about my Navy career. Maybe I should stick around.
Some time passed, and a Navy Reserve recruiter reached out to see if I wanted to discuss staying in the Navy as a part-time member of the reserve. This was something I knew very little about and hadn’t considered, but the information he shared—totally in a calm, not pushy way—seemed to make sense.
You mean I could still be in the Navy and pursue various civilian career opportunities at the same time? It was an attractive offer. So after a conversation over lunch with my wife, we decided I should try it out. I would leave active duty, but I would join the Navy Reserve.
It’s not an exaggeration to say that those two conversations—the confidence-boosting one from the CMC and the opportunity-opening one from the recruiter—changed my life.
I went on to serve for what has now been many more years (and still going) in the Navy Reserve. I’ve worked with amazing people around the country and around the world, gained tremendous friends, and had the chance to do some work that really matters.
And as of a few days ago, I’m officially a rear admiral (lower half) in the Navy.
If those two conversations hadn’t happened or happened differently, my life would most certainly be quite different.
Never Underestimate the Power of Your Words
Those two conversations—because of the influence they had on my life—make me think about two ideas. One is encouraging; the other is a bit terrifying.
First, it’s encouraging to think about how we the little things we say and do can dramatically influence people’s lives for the better. Many of us probably have done this numerous times in our lives, and we likely don’t even know it.
Second, it’s a bit terrifying to think about how we might negatively influence other people through our words and actions. We might fail to say something encouraging, we might be too busy for a conversation, we might say the wrong thing or ignore someone. And even if such actions and omissions are unintentional, the influence they have is real.
So I suppose the big lesson I take away from reflecting upon those two influential conversations is that we never really know how we might influence other people. As such, we should be continually sensitive to the idea that what we say and do really matters, and we should do what we can at all times to do our best.
Our “best” in this realm likely starts with simply recognizing the power of our interactions and of our words. Then, we can perhaps be more intentional about what we say, what we do, and how we interact with each other.
Finally, thanks to those two people for having those conversations with me. My life is better because of those brief discussions—and because of you.