Micro Manage

Today was a day of frustration and I’m going to vent about it. Today I had to tell a field grade officer what color a generator was. Why in the hell did I have to do that?

I guess that doesn’t really explain my annoyance very well, does it? Maybe a little background information is in order.

Okay, so part of my job is to coordinate different aspects of the supporting the Iraqi borders; mainly the ports of entry. I work with different organizations so that we can coach, teach, and mentor the Iraqi Department of Border Enforcement to protect their country from unwanted outside influence (seems pretty ironic, doesn’t it?). In any case, I work with Captain Chris in our engineering cell to ensure that the construction done on site is completed and then report to the higher powers on the various statuses and updates that they are looking for. In a status meeting a few days back, there were some heated questions pertaining a particular generator that was suppose to go to one of our ports. The higher powers asked if the port had power, in which we replied that it did not, but a generator was going to provide power to the port and be installed per the construction schedule. A few days later, the question was asked of the status of that generator and Chris confirmed with the program manager on site that the generator was delivered to the location as previously stated in the meeting two days ago. Then, they asked if it was a new or used generator. Okay, that sounded like a valid question. We queried the project manager on the ground and he said it was new. Then, out of left field, someone who visited the site said that they didn’t see this generator and were concerned that the port would not have power. This caused a stir all the way up to the colonel level again and the question was asked “Does the port have a generator?” The answer was the same as it was a week ago. Yes, we confirmed, the port has a generator. It’s the size of a small VW microbus and it won’t be hooked up until later. But how could that be when a person who visited the site said he couldn’t find it? Well, the person visiting didn’t link up with the project manager who would have showed them the generator was there, waiting to be hooked up.

Now erupted the senseless questions, like a giant “stupid” volcano. Where is this generator? When was it delivered? What size is it? Who signed for it? What color is it? Does it prefer white or wheat bread? Does it have a sister?

At this point I lost it. I tried to call the person requesting this information to ask them why they were so freak’n interested in this generator? Why can’t someone give a status and be held accountable for that report without everyone and their brother asking questions that have no bearing at their level? Why do some individuals feel that micro-managing makes things better? If a colonel, who is paid much more than me, doesn’t believe me when I say something is a certain way, then why am I here? Why doesn’t he run the project for me? The amount of time and effort it would take to call down to the project manager and dig up the kind of miniscule information that was being asked for just so that someone could have their “warm-fuzzy” about power situation at the port would have cost the American tax payer probably in excess of $10,000.

This infuriated me. In fact, it made me upset enough to send a scathing email littered with sarcasm and attitude to the requestor (only because the phones were not getting through to his office) which I also copied to my boss. Subsequently, I was reprimanded for this and told that if I wanted to let off steam next time to go outside and kick the T-wall behind our building.

I think I’ll be beating up a lot of T-walls if this kind of stupidity continues.

I’d take an angry Asian face picture like I normally do when I get frustrated, but I’m too mad to do that. I hope my engineers back home read this and remember this story when I come home and re-assume my job as their team lead. I hope that if I ever get close to micro-managing their projects that they will be professional. I'd want them to compose themselves like a grown up, take a deep breath to clear their thoughts, and politely kick me in my shins.