Influence is not a simple idea. Its impact on people is complex. I’ve often thought my influence was the outcome of my actions; however, I’ve recently learned that the power of personal influence equates to much more. Maya Angelou said, “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” The lasting impact of influence is a feeling that echoes in time. It doesn’t propagate through the air like sound. Influence lives in a person’s memory and resonates as emotion. Personal influences seems to have the greatest impact on subordinates. At first glance, this type of influence isn’t flashy. In fact, it feels commonplace. Yet, our personal influence is one of the most powerful tools at our disposal.
Influence is easy to miss. It could be a smile given at the end of a tough day or a kind word in the midst of struggle. Unfortunately, influence is not always positive. It can also be a harsh quip that crushes spirits. I’ve often overlooked the power of my own personal influence. Instead, I’ve focused on trying to influence superiors or organizations. Much to my own frustration, I tried a direct approach. I never thought to use an indirect approach. It had not dawned on me that to change an organization I need to have an influence on people.
While influence is important in all of our relationships, it’s critical in bonds of formal authority from a superior to a subordinate. The smallest action on the part of a leader can have cascading effects on a subordinate’s life. I know I’ve taken the power of my formal influence for granted over the years. I might not be the only one to have made that mistake.
A Discussion with a Friend
The impact formal leaders have on those they lead became clear to me after listening to some of my peers. It was a particularly cold day at Fort Leavenworth. My small group settled into its daily routine as we prepared for class. As is often the case in school, the discussion we were about to have was far more valuable than the slides prepared for our formal instruction.
The discussion began with a question – “what are some negative experiences we’ve had with previous leaders?” As always, somebody made a joke and the discussion remained jovial. Then Tim raised his hand. What followed was a story that struck me with a sense of disappointment and hope.
When you first meet him you’re struck by what looks like the army’s model “RI” (Ranger instructor). Oddly enough, that’s because he was an RI. Tim is a prior-service medical service officer with a focus in medical logistics. He’s had a broad career working in sustainment units as well as some “special” organizations. He’s the type of person that stands taller than his actual height implies. Despite his low voice and calm demeanor, when he speaks his words tend to project across the room. So when Tim raised his hand, we knew to listen.
Tim’s Story
He began his story as all good storytellers do, with context. Tim had just graduated from his officer basic course and was arriving to his first unit as a second lieutenant. The unit was already deployed to Iraq and he was meeting them in country. He began hearing rumors almost immediately.
This wasn’t Tim’s first rodeo. He wanted to give his new unit and his new life as an officer a chance. He heard whispers about the battalion commander’s ideas on motivation. In response, he would politely smile and tell others he was excited to join his new team. He had seen it all before; sarcastic cynicism played as wisdom was not new. He would make up his own mind.
Soldiers test out the new and upcoming Soldier and Leader Development Tool at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, Oct. 6, 2020. The new tool will help the flow of developmental counseling by allowing the soldier to make a self-assessment, in addition to leadership’s evaluation. (U.S. Army photo by Audrey Chappell)
Arrival
Tim arrived in country with the brimming excitement that comes with reaching that moment for which you’ve long prepared. He certainly wasn’t starry-eyed; Tim knew he was a second lieutenant. He was destined for his fair-share of power points and mid-night shifts on the operations floor. Nonetheless, he felt the anticipation that comes from the idea of applying one’s craft.
When he and his peers reported to their battalion’s operations center things escalated quickly. A field grade officer quickly placed him and his peers at the position of attention outside of the operations floor. Standing in the tent, bags at his side, Tim couldn’t help but think it was an interesting technique. Several officers were gathered facing what seemed to be quite the mess of a connex. Among them were two majors and a lieutenant colonel. They assumed the standard power position–hands on their hips with chest protruding forward.
Within seconds of noticing the line of lieutenants, Tim knew that a problem and solution had met in his new commander’s mind. Without saying anything to the young officers, he whispered to one of the field grades and left the room. Seconds later Tim found himself unloading the connex.
Tim quickly realized what kind of organization he was joining. Regardless, Tim committed to doing his best as a medical platoon leader. After several months, Tim realized there was a gap in his new battalion’s operations. The support operations (SPO) section was missing a medical logistics planner. He was interested in becoming a medical logistics officer. Perhaps it was something he could address during his next developmental counseling.
The Confrontation
Several months after having broached the idea with his commander, Tim hadn’t heard anything. One day while walking through the battalion headquarters he noticed the SPO in his office and thought he might bring it up. He would quickly realize that was a mistake.
The conversation was less than pleasant and one directional. The SPO began by telling Tim he didn’t need to fill the position and that Tim was needed in his company. The battalion commander was walking by and overheard the conversation. Doors quickly closed and voices soon swelled.
The lieutenant colonel began by telling Tim the position was useless. He proceeded to grill Tim concerning why he thought standard logistics officers couldn’t do the job. Why did the medical branch need its own special logistics? The battalion commander rose to a crescendo, questioning why the army had medical service officers at all. He considered them a waste of a branch. It was a one-sided conversation with the SPO and the battalion commander alternating as they escalated the attack to a decisive point. Tim left the conversation puzzled and insulted.
Years later, after reflection and time, Tim would tell us he was disappointed but determined. He decided to learn from his experience. Three points were clear. First, he decided he would use this experience to provide relief and contrast for his own engagements with soldiers. Second, he decided he would listen more than he talked. Lastly, he told himself he would always lead with dignity and respect.
Influence is Directional
The experience clearly shook Tim. So much so that almost ten years later he was telling us about it. It made an impact. As I listened to Tim, I was struck by a contradiction. As an objective listener, I couldn’t help but think the incident was fairly common-place.
I’ve had plenty of conversations with second lieutenants that were a bit rough around the edges. I thought nothing of them and couldn’t remember most of them to this day. Yet, there was Tim telling us about how a seemingly forgettable engagement with his battalion commander changed his entire view of leadership.
After hearing Tim’s story, I was intrigued by another interesting wrinkle in our discussion that day. All the stories that followed had the same pattern. They were small engagements that likely meant nothing to an authority figure but resonated with a young officer. The result was a group of majors talking about events that happened to them as second lieutenants.
The apparent contradiction bothered me. Using Tim’s example, we have a single engagement that had profoundly different results for each participant. The formal authority figure, the battalion commander, left the conversation noting little if any change. Tim walked away from that discussion with a career altering view of the U.S. Army and leadership. Influence is directional. That is, its effects change depending on position in a formal relationship.
This idea bothers me for several reasons. Tim may still be in the military, but what about all those other lieutenants? What about the other young officers that decided against our profession? I think of the countless discussions I’ve had with young soldiers. How many of those events were forgettable for me but left a mark on them? I realized that I’ve likely squandered a tremendous opportunity.
Echoes and Reflections
It feels like just yesterday I was meeting my platoon for the first time. Here I am, preparing to assume the role of an organizational leader and telling a story from a decade ago. I ask myself if I’ve unknowingly marred a soldier’s experience in the military with a snide comment. I’ve realized I need to reflect. I need to think about the type of leader I’ve been and the type of leader I wish to be. It’s important to understand that every engagement with a soldier is an opportunity for long term influence. I’ll make sure to look soldiers in the eye while giving critical feedback. Perhaps, I’ll try to smile at the end of a tough day. I’ll certainly commit to treating all soldiers with dignity and respect. Most importantly, I’ll remember that the smallest interactions can echo in time.