Learning to trust your instincts can take time. It is much easier to doubt ourselves, especially when people we respect and seem incredibly successful are telling us we are wrong to want what we want.
I’m not talking about alternate methods, tactics, or strategies. Sometimes considering another way of getting to where you want to go can be incredibly successful. I’m talking about those dream dashers we often confront.
Not Everyone Will Believe in You
The truth is that not everyone will agree with your plan, your dream, or your goals. Sometimes the people you want most to support you may surprise you by questioning the validity of your dreams.
This is where your commitment will be tested, your mettle will be proven. My resolve has been tried more than once throughout my decades-long career. The first time just might have been at the ripe age of 21, during my senior year at the Air Force Academy.
The year was 1963 and the AF Academy cadet wing had been called upon to go to Washington, DC to march in a parade honoring the late JFK. A very close friend and fellow cadet Mike Ryan had invited me to dinner at his father’s home.
Well, his father just happened to be General John D Ryan, the Commander of the Inspector General of the Air Force who would go on to become a Four-Star General, and the Chief of Staff of the Air Force.
Unsolicited Major General’s Advice
It is not every day that a 21-year-old gets to meet the soon-to-be number one chief air-warrior of the United States Air Force (and perhaps the world). I certainly did not expect to be sharing a couple of adult beverages with him. To put it lightly, this was a big deal, and I was thrilled for the opportunity to meet the man.
As we sat in his living room, enjoying a great conversation about the Academy and my plans for the future, this tough, gruff, general got around to asking me what I was going to do when I graduated next year. He wanted to know if I had been given my first assignment as a soon-to-be newly commissioned second lieutenant. He said, “I assume you are headed for pilot training?”
The General told me that he felt the only course of action to become a great success in the Air Force was for me to get my pilot’s wings.
I was happy that I could respond in the affirmative.
“Yes, Sir, I am going to go to pilot training right after graduation and commissioning. There is a new pilot training program, and I have signed up for that. I assume, Sir, that you are familiar with that new program?”
The General was not quite sure what I was talking about. “Actually, I have not been briefed. Why don’t you fill me in?”
I told him that instead of going to the normal pilot training programs, I’d be going first to fixed-wing basic training at Randolph Air Force base. Then I’d be moving to Stead AFB in Reno to transition into helicopters. After finishing that, I would receive my wings as an Air Force pilot and be assigned to an operational squadron with missions that require helicopters.
I’m sure that my enthusiasm showed because I really was excited about my future Air Force plans. I told him confidently, “I am really looking forward to it.”
I thought the general was going to choke. He nearly spits his drink out! I’ll omit the more salty language that came out of his mouth, but it went something like:
“What? You’re going to go into choppers? You have just ruined your entire career as an officer in my United States Air Force! Helicopters?! What the bloody hell were you thinking? You will never make it past the rank of captain. You need to learn to fly all the jets and bombers, just like I did. Or maybe transports and refuelers. But for God’s sake, Mister, what have you done? You will never make it up the ranks with Air Force officers who have the experience required to be promoted to field grad and general officers. Damn, and my son said you were super sharp. Son, fix me another drink!”
Ouch. To say it stung was the understatement of the year.
Retreat, Regroup and Recommit
As I shrunk down into my chair and gulped down the rest of my scotch, I felt like crawling into a hole. I reminded my friend that maybe we needed to rejoin our squadron mates at the barracks of the base where we were staying. It was time to retreat, if just for the night.
Here I was, a lowly cadet and not even a lieutenant yet, and the upcoming number-one officer of the United States Air Force had just told me, in numerous four-letter words, that my career was already over!
Maybe I could have changed my plans within the Air Force. Maybe I could have followed a path that mirrored General Ryan’s to the best of my ability.
However, that was not my choice. Because even though I highly respected the general, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to mirror his career. I wanted to follow my own dreams and goals. And my goals were different from what he thought my goals should be.
Forging Your Own Path
So, I told myself that not all the advice given by those who have succeeded greatly is not necessarily good advice for everyone, including me. I decided to buckle down and prove to myself that the general could be mistaken in my case.
I went through the new program and learned to fly helicopters. I volunteered for Combat Air Rescue and was blessed to pick up 10 downed pilots during my tour of Vietnam and Laos. I have zero regrets.
After all, is said and done, I think I have proven that the path I took was worthy. As did some of my helicopter classmates. Two of us were selected as Air Force Academy Distinguished Graduates later in our careers, and one (The Honorable Fred Gregory) became not only a fixed-wing test pilot but had three missions into space as an astronaut, including commanding two of the missions. Others went on to successful military careers as well as distinguished professional careers in civilian life.
Not all advice that you receive is perfectly suitable for you. The general’s advice wasn’t suitable for any of us in that helicopter class.
Weigh It Carefully
My experiences and contributions to the Air Force are things I take great pride in. They worked out well for me. To be chosen for that singular honor of the Distinguished Graduate is the highlight of my career.
And like me, maybe there’s something down deep in you that’s saying, “Here is the path I will follow, and I will achieve my dreams. I will not doubt my dreams, but rather will doubt my doubts.” Another saying I need to sometimes remember is “I would agree with you, but then we might both be wrong” or “ “I might be wrong, but I doubt it”.
Since that awkward dinner conversation years ago, whenever I receive advice, especially that which I have not sought, I weigh it carefully. It just might not be what I need.
And now, I say the same to you – weigh it carefully. Max James is the founder and CEO of American Kiosk Management, a billion-dollar global presence in North America, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. James is an Air Force Academy graduate and former combat rescue pilot who was shot down twice in Vietnam. He delivers insightful business lessons within the pages of his memoir, The Harder I Fall, The Higher I Bounce, available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
