Just Who is Ernst Wolfgang?

What's in a name? Studies have shown that, rightly or wrongly (probably wrongly), the name your parents pin on you can have a lot to do with relative success in life, especially if you're unfortunate enough to find yourself in that spider web of back-stabbing, fornicating, and deceit known as "corporate America. Although thinking "outside the box" is routinely called upon to solve whatever obstacle is stopping your boss from taking credit for your good idea, the fact of the matter is corporations like people who grajiate from upper-tier MBA programs and who readily agree with the boss even when it's stupid and unproductive.

I did not do well in such structured environments. First, el-hi school was extremely boring so I usually self-employed as the class clown, the cut up, the pain the ass. the big mouth, >insert your preferred terminology here, etc. Unfortunately, despite several elections to student council and doing well on standardized tests, my preferred approach to school did very little to either endear to me to my teachers nor did it help me learn how to manage information, a key component to excelling in college and at some jobs (if my mere presence didn't threaten my boss).

I learned quickly in the Army that doing exactly what they told you to as quickly and as efficiently as possible was the key to success. Unfortunately, I was lucky enough to work in a field that, by and large, valued unconventional thinking because most of the people in the field (crypto-analysis and linguistics) were fairly bright bunch to begin with; otherwise, you'd not have made the cut to stay in the program. The classroom work was difficult depending on your choice of languages and your actual job title (signals intelligence analyst, information hunter-gatherer, rock painter/COs driver, etc.).  Please, don't infer that I think all other branches in the Army are staffed by dumb people, because it's not true.

I'm proud that I passed the Basic Korean language course while stationed at the (now defunct) Defense Language Institute-Presidio of San Francisco. Don't be alarmed! The DLI at the Presidio of Monterey, the main base for the Department of Defense's Foreign Language Center, is still operating. The Presidio in San Francisco was closed many years ago. It is some of the most expensive property in the country. I was proud but also ashamed because I spent WAY too much time drinking large volumes of beer and kamikaze shots and not very much time studying the language. I knew I was capable of doing much better, but the lesson was finally learned. My class clowning was still evident: I renamed our primary instructor to make him sound like he was a porn star. Unbeknownst to me, he was a Baptist minister and had earned a doctorate from UC-Berkeley. Ooops. He thought little of my juvenile wordplay.

While at DLI, Bud Haines and I named our bowling team the "육실할놈" (transliterated YookShil Hal Nom) to show the command we could integrate our hard-earned linguistic skills into play time. Knowing that our company commander was a young, female Mormon I chose that name so I could tell her, in front of the rest of the aspiring keglers, that our name translated roughly into "you're descended from the whore the Japanese soldiers raped, cut into 1,000 pieces, and then fed to dogs in the street." She kinda didn't talk to me much after that. The rest of bowlers, being Army folks and all, howled! So, it was worth it.

There were times when my proclivity to make a smart remark worked against me because some people didn't have the proper context to understand why I would say whatever it was I said. At other times, it was the inability of the audience to understand anything except what they wanted to hear that caused, ahem, problems where none existed prior.

I did improve, albeit slowly, until I started working for the federal government when it all unravelled, violently. In fact, my carping at "the man" led some to characterize me and my co-conspirators as "a cancer" to the office when the truth was quite the opposite.  One of my bosses in the military told me in earnest that I care too much, that I had difficulty letting the "little things" go. And she was right. I got better picking my battles, but when you work for people of such intense, desperate mediocrity who have little if any respect for the people doing the heavy lifting, so to speak, it's easy to go off the deep end. (Let it be known that many of the supervisors and upper managers are honest, intelligent, and hard working public servants who care deeply about our veterans. Unfortunately, they are a minority.)

While working at the Veterans Administration, upper management thought it prudent to take a person who was running the (statistically) worst telephone answering unit in the ENTIRE organization--58 offices--and promoting him! To run a unit he knew next to nothing about. Fucking brilliant. My reaction to him was very similar to the one I had when one of my reviewers in the Army said that I was excellent at my job, managed my people well, and should be considered for immediate promotion and consideration for warrant officership...and that I suffered from "mood swings." I refused to sign the review since it would remain a permanent part of my record...not to mention it was patently ridiculous. What this officer failed to note was that my "mood swings" were reserved only for him. His rage continued to mount at my intransigence and he nearly had a stroke when I clarified for him that my "mood swings" shouldn't be confused for "suffering fools poorly." I left the room, performance review unsigned. As it remains so to this day.

Am I proud of these deeds, this penchant for self-destructiveness? Not as much as I used to; in retrospect,  I've got nothing to show for being such a smug, know-it-all smart-ass. I've probably alienated and driven away more supporters and potential allies than I'll ever know. As my wife, the poor, brave soul that she is, knows so well I'm always wondering why people, especially bosses, tend to be threatened by me. Since I tend to be very direct most people apparently assume that I don't care if they like me or not. Nothing could be further from the truth. My goal was never to usurp; I only wanted to do a good job, to serve my country or its veterans, with honor and distinction. Unfortunately, that's not always enough, particularly when the mission interferes with someone's personal and or professional agenda.

Oh well, now that the degeneration of the discs in my spine is well on its way to turning my bones into dust, none of this matters except in my reflections of who's, why's, and what's. I'd still like to think that my own code of integrity, something I had to work on once I finally "grew up," made a positive difference in the lives of Kentucky's military heroes and their families. Now, Ernst Wolfgang and his alter ego need to find a way to turn the remaining energy into something positive for the kids, for my beautiful, incredible wife, my friends and family, and with any luck, Ernst himself.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, a Wonderful Kwanzaa, and Peaceful, Safe New Year to all.