I'll see you now, Mr. Dow

“I'll see you now, Mr. Dow”

I was pissed.

I don't mean the kind of mad when the Sox lost to the Yankees in 2003, I mean pissed, the real kind; the kind of pissed that has consequences.

That morning aboard LAUREL was slow.  I had a few items to take care of before turning over the inport watch.  At this point in my career meetings were nonexistent...it was glorious.  So the XO calling the wardroom together was a bit unusual.  It was benign, a run down of the week’s inport schedule; the three other ensigns and the two warrant officers present

The XO, Fred White was finest officer I served with in my career and still a mentor.  That morning however I would be hard pressed to believe it.

I have no idea what set it off, but Fred asked me about some knit-noid task that I hadn't started.  He may, or may not, have made a mildly snarky comment--I don't know.  Regardless, Mt Jeff-suvious was uncalled for.

To reiterate...I was pissed.

I moved, with purpose, down the main passageway toward the ship's office.  This was 1991; no computer in my stateroom, no phone in my stateroom, cell phones still came in a bag or in a limo.  I was the Admin Officer so the ship's office was as close to a workspace that I had.  The storekeeper (SK2) and yeoman (YN2) worked for me and were always a good resource. 

My plan was to check with them on the now mythical tasking from XO and start making my phone calls.  I think it had to do something with SIMA, but it truly escapes me.  What does not escape my memory was my temper.  It had been building since I left the XO, and building.  By the time I turned the knob and made my entrance to the ship’s office, I was really good and ticked--for no good reason--but dander--it was up...way up!!

From this point it spiraled out of control quickly and with certainty.

I opened the door and someone must have just emptied the trash because the ubiquitous gunmetal gray trashcan found in offices around the world clearly jumped in my way and I would have none of that.  I tripped on the rouge beast and it embarrassed me in front of my two guys plus the First Class Boatswain Mate (BM1), who was making copies.  Clearly retribution was in order and, oh, it was served.

I pulled back my right leg and my steel-toed boot flew forward and landed a significant body blow on the aggressive trashcan.  F=MA and I had a wee bit of mass and a whole lot of acceleration.  The blow launched the trashcan across the ship's office and into base of the copier.  At this point both the copier and trashcan conspired against me and the can did a 180-degree turn and landed an equally impressive shot on my shin.

Touché, Mr. Trash Can.  I would not allow this aggression to stand; these two inanimate objects would not win this battle. So after the successful Can/Copier counter attack, I launched a second strike, this time with my left foot.  I learned my lesson and topped the can so as not to induce flight and keep it low, close to the deck and out of range of the copier.  The can settled across from the storekeeper just by his swivel chair—and out of the fight.

During my initial strike, much to his credit, the BM1 merely stepped back from the copier about six inches.  This astute and experienced maneuverer removed BM1 from the line of fire.  Once the can was out of action the BM1 rejoined the fray and continued with his task. 

One cool customer, that BM1.

Dow's March to the Phone was not finished.  I had carnage and waste to lay upon this office and I would not be stopped.

I sat down opposite the one free phone.  I pulled my green notebook from front shirt pocket and threw it down on the desk.  Due to the rage building in my soul my aim was a little off and my notebook, with the appropriate contact information I needed, hit the edge of the desk and flopped to the deck settling under my chair.  You are probably thinking that this is not much of an impediment to completing my assigned task.  You could think that--however that would be in error.  I stood up; chair flew back into the file cabinet and back at me right as I was picking up my green notebook.  

I took that for what it was, merely a feint by the Office to throw me off my game and I wasn't taking the bait.  Book in hand I fell straight down into the upstart chair and pulled myself into the desk and locked down my position. 

Now, now you say...now the moon had waned and calm entered my soul.  While that should have been the case, I would have no part of that.  Again, I was on a mission to not only complete my phone call but also reclaim dominance over the Office. 

The black phone was in a vertical cradle on the aft ship's office bulkhead.  I was off my administrative game, when I took the phone out of the cradle, the receiver pulled a ninja move and fell out of my hand.  That would normally warrant nary a second look but I was primed for the conflict.  So I picked it up of the desk and yet again it fell out of my hand.  This time I was forced to impose a penalty upon this imprudent device.  So, obviously, I threw it at the bulkhead to ensure this rebellious piece of office equipment knew its place. 

The problem...I had pulled myself in tight to the desk and was close to the bulkhead, closer than most normal people would consider comfortable.  The receiver hit the desk at an acute angle, ricocheted off the bulkhead and..wait for it...wait for it...hit me in the head before resting in the middle of the desk.

Blood boiling, I grabbed the phone and was about to pull it out of the wall when....

Wait for it...

Wait for it...

"I'll see you in my stateroom, Mr. Dow."

Oh no.  OH. NO.  You have to be kidding me.  Really...I mean really.

Yes...the XO.  Turns out he followed me down the main ship's passageway and had balcony, front row center seating for the Dow Command Performance.  I was all of 4 months out of the Coast Guard Academy.  I was sure, at this point, I would be heading back home to Plaistow New Hampshire looking to see if Larry's Clam Bar was hiring.  This was bad.  I mean this was Top Gun truck driving school scene bad.

I replaced the phone into the cradle and somehow managed to get my green notebook in my shirt pocket.  I wasn't sure, however, if I my legs would hold me.  I put my hands about shoulder width apart on the desk and pushed myself up.  The whole time I am staring at the phone and can't bear the thought looking at the YN2, the SK2, and the BM1.   Talking to them would be even more difficult.  I turned slowly and in a bit of a haze carefully walked across the small ship's office.  The BM1 never stopped making copies.  I sidled passed him and before I could leave the office he put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"Jeezuz Mr. Dow...I love the passion but JEEZ-UZ.  You were a good JO, sir."  Imagine that with Jack Nicholson's voice.  That is about how the BM1 talked.

So not a reassuring hand...and what did he mean "WERE a good JO"???? 

OH. DEAR. GOD.

This was bad.

Did you see "The Green Mile" or maybe "Dead Man Walking"...yeah, it was like that.

The passageway is not that long but it was closing in on me. 

Shit...what was I thinking...seriously...what was I thinking.

XO saw all that and it wouldn't be a stretch to know that I had gone Godzilla.  I had always been told it was not a good idea to piss off the XO, let along have the XO see you pissed off because you blamed him. 

Yeah, this was bad.

I stopped in front of the XO's stateroom, head down, crestfallen, and resigned to my fate.  I knocked, softly.

"Come in."

"XO."

I really didn't know what to say. 

"Close the door Mr. Dow."

Well, at least this would be a private execution.

"Yes, sir."

"So, what happened.”  It wasn’t a question.

"I...I...really lost my cool, sir.  I was mad you, what you said in the passageway."

"I figured that.  So what did you do?"

"Kinda went apeshit on the ship's office about sums it up."

"Indeed you did."

Silence.  He was GOOD...he was dragging it out...the wait was always the worst.

"So, you were mad at me but took it out on the office.  Does that make sense to you?"

"Not really sir."

"No, not really. Look, I love the passion.  I admire the fire you bring to the job.  I see it, the crew sees you care about them and the cutter.  But..."

He let that hang out there for a second and he continued.

"What went wrong with this?"

For just a moment, a brief flicker, I thought, ‘this conversation is NOT going the way I expected.’

"I really lost it sir."

"And?"

"Aaaaand...lost it in front of the crew?"

"You did.  Nothing wrong with having that fire.  I did when I was your age.  Use it.  You sure as shit need to control it...but don't lose that passion.  If you get steamed again at me...come talk to me.  Hell, we can go around the CONEX boxes and you can really let loose.  But only do it with me.  Not in front of the crew."

"I can do that sir.  I'm sorry, XO.  I just get so mad sometimes..."

"It's all right…we all do.  Just yell at me, with me, all you want.  Just not the crew. OK?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You still got to make that call?"

"I do sir."

I opened the door and made it half out and turned:

"Thanks, sir"

"Anytime, Jeff."

When I tell you that from that point on, Fred White supported me every step of my career.  We were never stationed together again but he was, without doubt, the person I tried to model my leadership style after.  He was, and is, the best.

This was one of the best leadership lessons I ever had.

Post Script:

The YN and SK were happy to see that I was not dismissed from the service.

The BM1 was still making copies when I got back to the office...what the hell was he copying?