Free It Worked For Me by Colin Powell Page A

comes in and spots him. He can’t resist sitting next to the general and starting up a conversation. The old gentleman patiently listens to the kid and courteously answers his questions. After a time the lieutenant gets to what he really wants to know: “How do you make general?” he asks with raw, unconcealed ambition.
    “Well, son,” said the general, “here’s what you do. You work like a dog, you never stop studying, you train your troops hard and take care of them. You are loyal to your commander and your soldiers. You do the best you can in every mission, and you love the Army. You are ready to die for the mission and your troops. That’s all you have to do.”
    The lieutenant replied with a soft voice, “Wow, and that’s how you make general . . .”
    “Naw, that’s how you make first lieutenant. Just keep repeating it and let ’em see what you got,” said the general, finishing off his last martini. Then he left.
    When I was a young second lieutenant, I loved my job. I loved the Army. I put everything I had into doing the job well. And I was content. Nothing was promised, and I had few expectations. Count on maybe becoming a lieutenant colonel and retiring with twenty years of service at half pay, I was told. Just be thankful for anything that comes after that and thank your soldiers for making it happen. If you hit the walls of the pyramid, find satisfaction there. Be happy with that prospect. And I was.

CHAPTER NINE
    Potential, Not Just Performance
    I n the Army, we are measured constantly and exhaustively. We get evaluation reports annually and every time we change jobs or our supervisor changes jobs. Our immediate superior evaluates us. So does our next higher superior, and his evaluation compares us with all our peers who serve under him. Our school performance is graded. Our spouses are silently observed. Our careers are obsessively examined and managed.
    The reason is simple and obvious. We do not hire from outside. If we need a battalion commander fifteen years from now, we have to grow one now from a promising new second lieutenant. Sergeants major are not hired in from Walmart or Hertz. It takes many years to grow them from basic training recruits. I was told as a lieutenant that only one out of a hundred of us would become a general. Ah, but which one!
    Performance evaluations determine that choice. They are an essential part of the promotion system. We are bended, folded, and mutilated throughout our careers.
    Though necessary and useful, performance evaluations don’t give the whole picture. Past performance alone does not adequately predict future performance. Sure, if past performance is mediocre or worse, satisfactory or outstanding performance in the future is extremely unlikely, and if past performance ranges from better than satisfactory to outstanding, chances are good that performance in the future will continue at that level. But it’s not a sure thing.
    In both the military and civilian worlds, evaluations of potential are mostly subjective, or even anecdotal. “She’s going all the way.” . . . “He’s got General Officer potential.” . . . “She’s a winner, promote ahead of others.” . . . “He’s a water-walker.” Judgments like these are based on more than performance. Leaders and bosses see qualities that separate some few from the crowd. What do they see?
    For starters, they see consistently outstanding prior performance in different positions.
    They see someone learning and growing intellectually, someone preparing for the next level, not just maxing out in his current job; someone who is ambitious, but not cutthroat.
    They see someone tested by assignments and challenges generally given to people with more seniority and greater experience, thus indicating early that he can probably perform well not only at that higher level, but at levels above that one.
    They see someone reaching outside his comfort zone to acquire skills and knowledge that are not now