The Old Blog in the Desert

There’s a fellow I once knew named Jerry who swore he was born to lead. From the time he could tie his shoes, he was in charge of something.

Kickball teams, Cub Scout hikes, and even, on one bold occasion, the neighborhood’s unofficial “Safety Patrol,” which mostly involved telling other kids to stop running near the mailbox.

Jerry wasn’t bossy, exactly, just convinced the world ran smoother when he was giving directions. He was confident, organized, and, as his mother liked to say, “a little too sure for his own good.”

When Jerry joined the Navy, he figured leadership came with the uniform. The first week of basic training, his chief petty officer asked, “You think you’re in charge here, sailor?”

Jerry, never one to miss a cue, answered, “Not yet, Chief.”

That earned him the glamorous job of latrine duty for the week. Nothing like scrubbing toilets to help a man re-evaluate his career path.

But as he worked, something began to shift. The chief wasn’t just barking orders. He was watching. He noticed who was struggling, who was improving, and who needed an extra push.

The ones who led best weren’t the loudest; they were the ones paying attention. By the time Jerry hung up his mop, he’d started to understand that following wasn’t a punishment; it was practice.

Years later, Jerry became a father, and like most fathers, found that parenthood has a way of turning theory into comedy. One Saturday, he decided to teach his young son, Ben, how to change the oil in the family truck.

“Just watch and learn,” he said.

But Ben, determined to be a man of action, slid under the truck before his dad could stop him. A minute later came a metallic clank, followed by a small voice saying, “Dad, I think the oil’s coming out kind of fast.”

It came out all right, fast, furious, and everywhere. Jerry just handed his son a rag and said, “Lesson one, kiddo—sometimes leadership starts with following directions.”

Funny how that stuck with him. Years later, when Jerry moved into management, he recognized the same truth.

The people who made the best supervisors weren’t the ones trying to prove they were in charge. They were the ones who’d taken time to learn, to listen, and to make mistakes without blaming someone else.

He used to tell new hires, “If you want to lead, first learn how to follow without complaint. Pay attention. Watch how good leaders treat people. Then when your turn comes, you’ll already know what works—and what doesn’t.”

Jerry said it with a grin, but he meant every word. Leadership, he liked to say, isn’t about standing in front.

It’s about standing with. It’s also knowing when to speak up, when to stay quiet, when to guide, and when to step aside.

He also had a favorite saying, “If you think you’re leading and nobody’s following, you’re just out taking a walk.”

So when someone once asked Jerry what made him such a good leader, he shrugged and said, “I learned by following better people than me.”