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It's not the desk that matters
Posted 10/8/2010
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Commentary by Maj. Joe Golembiewski
92nd Communications Squadron commander
10/8/2010 - FAIRCHILD AIR FORCE BASE, Wash. (AFNS) -- "Golembeski!" he bellowed.
He didn't say my name right, but I heard him loud and clear, and I knew who he was talking to. Still, I looked down and stepped backwards, positioning myself so that a fellow Airman was between me and the owner of the thundering voice.
"Golembeski," he repeated loudly, "you're too quiet!"
"Sorry, Chief," I said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. In 1988 I was a brand new Airman right out of technical training school, the newest member of the 1908th Communications Squadron, and I had no idea why the chief had singled me out.
"What'd you say, Golembeski?" he boomed.
My throat felt dry and I could feel my knees quaking. I raised my hand to cover my mouth as I forced a cough and I could see my fingers shaking like twigs being blown around in a gusty wind. I tried to repeat my short sentence louder, but what came out was more like a high-pitched squeak.
I coughed again, and this time still barely audible, I said, "Sorry, Chief."
I looked to my supervisor and my NCO-in-charge, but neither was stepping forward to help me out of this predicament. Another NCO did interrupt, though. My face felt flush and my ears were buzzing, but mostly I was just relieved that someone else was joining in the conversation -- a conversation that I wanted no part. My relief, however, was short lived.
"Chief, it's true. Joe is way too quiet," the saboteur said.
Oh, no! That's not the kind of help I needed.
The fatigue-clad buck sergeant turned toward me and smiled, then turned back to the chief and said in a very serious tone, "We can barely get him to talk. He's afraid of his own voice."
Why me? Why was the chief picking on me? Why was this other NCO attacking me, too? People were coming from nearby offices to see what was going on. I kept thinking that this can't really be happening.
"Golembeski, what did you have for dinner last night?"
"Huh?" was the only response I could muster.
"Golembeski, get up there on that desk!" boomed the chief. I just stared at him. He's crazy, I thought, and any second he'll realize he's acting crazy and he'll leave me alone.
"Golembeski, stand up on that desk and tell everyone here what you had for dinner last night!"
I looked around hoping for any sign of rescue, but there was no cavalry. I slowly climbed onto the desk and looked down at the group, but I couldn't even recognize faces anymore. It suddenly felt like it was a hundred degrees in our air-conditioned office. I felt the sweat beads on my forehead, but my hands were still shaking like I was shivering in the cold. I wasn't doing anything; why am I the one on the desk?
"Well?" the chief prompted.
"Um ... pork chops." Please let that be it. When the chief first called my name, there were four or five people around. Now there were about a dozen, and still more coming in. There might as well have been a thousand. I was mortified.
"Tell us about your dinner!" the chief commanded. "What time did you eat, who did you eat with. Give us the details."
I wanted to cry. Really. There were close to 20 people in the room, and I hated to speak in public. I breathed in, held my breath a moment, and said, "I had pork chops, Chief." I breathed again and said, "Darlene made pork chops and green beans. We ate at about 6 o'clock."
"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" the chief asked. Actually, it was hard. It really was.
The chief turned and started to walk away. The rest of the crowd didn't know if the show was over or not, so they just waited. So did I.
The chief stopped at the doorway and turned to say, "Golembeski, you never know when I'm going to ask you what you had for dinner--or anything else. When I ask you something, you better answer loud and clear. Do you hear me, Golembeski?"
Oh, I heard him all right. People on the other end of the building heard him. Heck, at the time, I would have believed that people on the other end of the base heard him. I nodded, but the chief didn't know; he was already out the door.
As I climbed down from the desk, I heard people asking what had happened. The NCO who had just sacrificed me to the chief stood there with a smile and said, "The chief was teaching Joe how to speak in public."
I've never forgotten that experience. A couple of years later, I was working on my Community College of the Air Force associate's degree, and I had to take a dreaded speech class. Public speaking was still one of the most difficult things I could imagine, but by then the chief had already forced me to speak in front of crowds at least a half dozen times. I still hated it, but I knew I could do it.
A couple of months ago, I received word from the chief -- my chief -- after I had just taken command of the 92nd Communications Squadron. He sent word that I had "done good," and that he was proud of me.
The chief didn't know it, but he had been on my mind even during my change of command. You see, I still hate to speak in public. It's not easy for me, and I have to rev myself up, prepare, and then brace myself for a crowd, but I learned from him that I really could beat my fear of public speaking. I do it the same way every time, and the day I took command was no exception.
As I stood in front of the podium and looked out into the crowd, I saw members of my new squadron, my family and my new wing commander. I could feel my throat going dry and I could see the slight shake in my fingers, but I silently thought, "No problem; it's not like the chief is here."
The truth is, though, that a little bit of the chief is here. I learned a lot of great lessons from him, and I try hard to share those lessons with others. I don't do everything the way he did, and I would never make anyone stand on a desk to tell me what they had for dinner, but one thing is for sure, I'm a better speaker today because my chief took the time to make me stand on that desk.
It's not the desk that matters -- it's the time. That's the lesson. |
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| Ken Swenk, Florence KY |
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| Chuck B, Great Falls |
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| NP, Tampa FL |
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| Jack Driggers, Monroe NC |
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| TSgt V, BAFB LA |
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| Jerry, Oklahoma |
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| Steve, Tampa |
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| DC, Tinker AFB |
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| BF, IN |
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| Bubba, Texas |
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| Marvin FINDLING, North Palm Beach FL |
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| Somewhere in, Las Vegas |
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