Getting an office is a big deal in the Air Force. You’re not hunting down an available computer, nor sharing with three other office mates. It’s your space to reflect, plan, and get after whatever the needs are at the time. You can change into your PT gear in there and store the three different uniforms you have. Most importantly, it’s a space where you can shut the door and have those deep conversations that every leader needs to engage in.
How it’s decorated is highly individual. Most times, it’s a homage to the career of whoever is holding the position. Coins, awards, name patches, pictures, and going away gifts line the walls and shelves. Other times, it is simple, maybe a picture or two; other than that, it’s open.
I fall into the category of minimal decoration and maximum openness. It makes breathing easier, and for a dude like me who gets distracted way too easily, it helps keep me on track. I’m not one for closed spaces so my office door remains open, even when I’m not there. I also have no issue with others using it if they need to. Anything sensitive is locked up, and quite frankly, there isn’t anything to steal.
I’m in transition right now, ready to retire after 23 years of service to this country. That office that could be called mine has been handed over to the next guy taking charge. It was a simple, clean-out for me, just a box and a few other things. But the guy who moved in, well, he had quite a bit of stuff. I thought it was an oversized office, but I was wrong. Every possible horizontal space has a tenant there now. And there was still more to be unboxed. And then I saw something one day when I came in to get my computer, the door was shut and no one was in the office. What….the….hell. Wait, I’m not leading the flight anymore, and I’m not occupying the office either.
A funny thing happens when you hand over the keys to an organization. While the relief of responsibility is apparent, a part of you doesn’t want the direction you took it to change. You start comparing yourself to whoever is taking over. It’s weird to hand the baton to the next guy and then slow down. All the while watching them speed up and put distance on you. It hurts the ego for sure. And for some reason, my ego got hurt seeing the door shut, something I would never stand for.
Ego is an ass and acts the part. My ego, which is really just me, jumped to the conclusion that this is why I don’t want a lot of stuff, so I don’t have to close my door to keep it from walking away. How much suffering he must endure trying to hold on to these “things”. I’ll admit it; it was a holy than-thou kind of moment. Although a movement would imply that the thought only lasted a moment.
I’ve been fortunate enough to have fallen into routines that help center myself. I’ve also taken to reflection via journalling or just writing in my small pocket notebook. When something hits me, I write it down; if it’s strong enough pull, I expand on it. That shut door had a pretty big pull.
So I wrote about it. No surprise, ego led the charge, but there was something superficial about what I was writing. It felt like bragging and one-sided. I decided to keep going; I started to question. Then the question hit me, “How did I come up with that the door is shut to keep his things safe?” That was all it took to start me down the path I was looking for.
I had assumed a couple of things, one was that he was bragging about his career and wanted to show it to the world. And two, he wanted to ensure his “stuff” wasn’t stolen. These were merely assumptions, and I took them for fact. For all I knew, he shared the same sentiment as me, keep work at work as much as possible. Not having that stuff in his house would align with that mantra. Maybe it brings joy and value into his life. Maybe being surrounded by his accomplishments helps him keep a positive self image. Then the big one hit: what if he shuts the door out of respect for others? What if his mentors did that to establish boundaries with those they were charged to lead, and he believes in it? It could be a million different reasons but it boils down to this, there was no need for me to jump to conclusions. Really, there was no need for me to even pass judgment.
We want the next generation to be better; that’s called progress. Wanting to be the all time best for the rest of time is selfish and only brings down those around them. Just because I was insecure about how I executed the job doesn’t mean I need to find useless reasons why I should believe I’m better than him.
The door is shut when he’s not around. It’s as simple as that, no need to add assumptions to make up a story. I’m almost afraid to find where else in life I’m doing the same thing. It’s a core characteristic so I’m sure it isn’t isolated to work, and just to that office door.
What I am grateful for is that I could keep my mouth shut for the most part. And that I had enough awareness that something wasn’t sitting right with it and then to actually reflect on it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, it’s amazing what you can hear when you shut your damn mouth and open your ears.
