Leadership and Cherry Popcorn

When I was in high school, I took an economics class. In the class, we had an assignment where we were supposed to break up into several teams and start a popcorn "business" in the class. We were supposed to make a flavor of popcorn, "buy" a location, create banners for our business, and price our product; another classroom would be given fake money to spend on our popcorn, and whatever profit we made determined our grade for the project. I got placed with who I thought were the worst teammates ever. In fact, there was one teammate whom I had worked with previously, and she landed us an F because she failed to even touch her half of the project (and without her half mine was worthless). Needless to say, I was flustered that I had gotten stuck with such a crew. So much so, that I refused to see a repeat of group projects past, and decided that I was going to put my leadership skills to use in ways I never had before. I took over the project completely, using my teammates' past group project experiences against them to convince them that I was best fit to run this team. And boy did I run things! I chose the flavor of popcorn; I chose the location of our business; I chose how our banner was to be decorated (though I did let them do the banner); I set our popcorn prices. I did 80% of the work in this experiment, and I ruled my team with an iron fist.

The day came that we needed to prepare our popcorn. I had previously selected a cherry popcorn recipe, using cherry-flavored gelatin as our flavoring agent. The time came to start the recipe, and I instructed my team based on the instructions I found on the internet. When they poured the hot gelatin mixture over the popcorn, disaster struck: 

the popcorn shriveled and became pure mush, to the point we could no longer call it popcorn. We had no backup plan; we had no more ingredients to use; we had no other alternative but to sell our cherry-flavored mush. After we set up the tables, people began to look around. I was already feeling humiliated as everyone pointed at laughed at our pitiful display of "popcorn" that had begun to coagulate at the bottom of our tiny cups, while everyone else's cups overflowed with delicious-looking popcorn with various flavors. But what came next was even more humiliating... The next class came in and began buying popcorn--everyone else's popcorn but ours. Our tables were passed by. People scrunched their noses at our concoction and refused to spend their money on it. We lowered the price; people continued to pass by. We lowered it even further; still, no one came. We continued to lower our prices, getting more and more desperate as we watched our peers leave the room, satisfied with their popcorn investments. Finally, the teachers came in to buy their share of popcorn. I turned to them and said, "Please... This popcorn is free. We are giving it to you! Just take one!" The teachers refused, and our classmates pointed at laughed at us as they were counting their money. We ended up failing the assignment, being the only group in the history of this assignment to make 0 sales. What a humiliation, and it was because I gave my team absolutely no wiggle room to take control. As a result, our failing grade was purely because of me, and my teammates made sure I knew it, saying they would never work in a group with me again (ironic, as it was the result was precisely the thing I was trying to avoid). It stands as probably one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, but it is also the greatest lesson I have ever learned in school.

Leadership is a tough thing. Everyone says that they could do better than their boss, their President, or their parents; calling the shots the way they think it should be. But actually stepping in those shoes is a complete life-changer. I've been in charge of small group projects, and I have been responsible for literally a thousand lives. No matter which setting, no matter how many people you lead, no matter where it is, being the leader is the toughest job. But I have learned through my years of taking on that leadership that it is more than a rough role. Being a leader means leading with experience; it means leading while learning something new about your role; it means leading with confidence; it means leading with humility; it means late nights ensuring that your employees are able to do their jobs correctly. Being a leader is less about being the star, and infinitely more about being the support. Maybe you're the one calling the shots, but it is the actions and performance of your subordinates that make you an efficient leader.

I love Sun Tzu's "The Art of War". It's philosophies are helpful in a myriad of ways beyond just the battlefield. In fact, many businesses and school courses make it required reading, and I highly suggest that you read it if you haven't yet. I voluntarily read through The Art of War on my own time, and I think that it is a fascinating bit of classical Eastern thought. One of my favorite parts in this book is Sun Tzu's second point: a General honors Heaven and Earth. The meaning behind this seemed confusing to me at first, but after some studying and interpretation, I have come to an interesting conclusion: when Sun Tzu says that a General must honor Heaven and Earth, he is not specifically talking about religion or going green. He is referring to honoring your soldier's standards.

Contrary to popular belief, perhaps even unbeknownst to the soldiers I'm about to discuss, a soldier does not fight for his country; he fights for his leader, who fights for his country. What's the distinction? The distinction is that the leader who deploys the troops, who plans the attacks, makes the executive decisions, and, most importantly, sends his soldiers to die, is the one who fights for a cause. As harsh as it is to see it this way, the soldiers beneath the general are merely pawns in a game against an enemy General, who too sees his soldiers as mere pawns. That's the name of the game. The soldiers, however, don't see it this way. They have to know that their lives are being sacrificed for a greater good that they believe in. If a General does not have their confidence, then he cannot utilize them to their fullest potential, risking even insubordination and the inevitable collapse of military structure--in which case, you become the only reason you lost. A soldier will not fight for a leader who does not fight for their cause, because that leader does not have their best interests at heart. Thus, a leader must honor what the soldiers consider to be Heaven and Earth. It doesn't mean worshiping God. It doesn't mean tying yourself to a tree. It means having your soldiers' confidence that you are sending them to war for the right reasons.

That can be tough to figure out, especially when so many people in today's society have so many different opinions--to the point that it just doesn't seem possible. This is a reason why I have chosen not to start a career in politics, despite my natural leadership capabilities. I will either work myself to death with the ulcers I already have, or I will live long enough to be corrupted by appeasing my voters. Either way, the politician's seat is not my cup of papaya milk.

I have had good leadership experiences too, however. I remember one time when I was working as a stand-in program director at a Cub Scout camp. Two teenage boys got off on the wrong foot a couple weeks before, and their rivalry began to escalate to the point that a fight was about to break out. My boss, usually the one to handle disputes like this, was incredibly busy preparing for the LDS camp that I mentioned in my D&D article previously. So I assured him that I would handle the situation. I pulled them aside and had a separate conversation with each of them. In both conversations, I said something along the lines of, "I totally understand why you don't like [the other guy]. But you need to be the bigger person and let him do his stupid thing. Can you handle being the bigger person?" They both tried to give some excuse, and I said, "I don't care. If I have to talk to you again about this, we're going to have to get Bill (my boss) involved; you do not want Bill involved. Now, look at me for a second." For each, I leaned in and made sure they had direct eye contact with me, and then I sternly said, 

"Is that fair?"

Both agreed that it was indeed fair, and I never had to deal with this problem again. They ended up tolerating one another and even happily working together in one or two instances. I can't tell you whether or not they ended up becoming friends, though. I wasn't around them enough to really know how their relationship ended up. However, I've used the "Is that fair?" tactic before in the past, and it hasn't worked. The reason why is because in the past I did not command the respect that I did with these two boys. When I was working at this summer camp, before I had to stand in as the program director, I had gotten the opportunity to work with virtually everyone working at the camp, and help out where I was needed; I was able to set a proper example and fill in holes that were in our team's gap. I earned their respect by being a loving and important member of the team that they looked up to. When the time came to ask something of my employees that they themselves didn't want to do, their respect for me became my weapon.

In sum, if I were to wrap this all up into one neat little bow, I would have to say that leadership is commanding respect as much as it is delegating tasks. Your job is to not be the star, steal achievements from your subordinates, or use them for your own goals. Your job is to be their support so that they can do their job efficiently. If your soldiers respect you, then they will do anything you require of them. In order to earn that respect, you must honor their values. That means be sincere, it means to swallow your pride, and it means to step up as the one who can organize and complete the tasks that they believe need to be completed. The rest of the white noise in between these objectives obscure what's really important: the cause you all fight for--be it the success of a business, bringing joy to the hearts of Cub Scouts who come to your camp, saving lives, or getting a good grade on some stupid popcorn activity.

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