When I enlisted in the Marines, I came in with no real expectations. I didn’t have a clear picture of what military life would be, but I had ambition. I wanted to be somebody with authority, the kind of Marine whose rank spoke before he did. I believed promotion was the key.
At first, I thought the promotion ladder would be straightforward: follow orders, work hard, and opportunities would open up. But the more I immersed myself in the system, the more I saw that my ambitions would collide with a tougher reality.
After pushing myself — both physically and mentally — to rise from private to corporal, I learned what it means to be a true leader.
The system first taught me hard truths
My specialty in the Marines was administration, so my work focused mainly on personal records management. Promotions in that area started off feeling fair. Show up on time, prove yourself, and you move up.
But as I advanced, the process became less predictable. It wasn’t just about individual performance anymore. Promotions depended on your job specialty, the number of available slots, and wide retention rates. The promotion system, like many institutions, wasn’t purely meritocratic. Timing, politics, and perception all played a role.
This realization made me push myself harder — sometimes, too far.
I pushed myself physically to get a quicker promotion
The most vivid challenge came when I was up for a meritorious board, which is an expedited promotion process for the rank of Lance Corporal. It required both a fitness test and a knowledge exam.
A week before, I twisted my foot badly and injured my hip in martial arts training. I could barely walk. My staff sergeant told me they were considering pulling me out because part of the exam involved running three miles.
For a moment, I was crushed, but I wasn’t willing to lose the chance. I told him that I’d figure it out. I then spent the week rehabbing as best I could. I got massages, did aquatic therapy, and stayed off my feet whenever possible. I didn’t go to the hospital; I leaned on the Marine recruiting slogan that pain was weakness leaving the body.
On test day, I still wasn’t close to healthy. I powered through the pull-ups and sit-ups with adrenaline, but the run was brutal. To reduce the impact, I chose to run on the grass instead of the pavement. The ground was damp, and that small difference allowed me to push forward. I crossed the line successfully, limping but refusing to quit.
Later, I marched into the boardroom for the evaluation, foot throbbing inside my tight shoes. My drills weren’t perfect, but I was sharp enough to pass. And I did.
That promotion was a personal milestone because I proved that I can overcome anything if I just push myself. But that lesson and new rank didn’t mean I was a true leader just yet.
I then learned there’s more to leadership than chasing promotions
One mentor I met in the service, Master Sergeant Pennington, changed how I saw leadership. He took me out for meals, asked about my family, and pushed me to go home when my grandmother died. He even gave me advice on relationships and finances, reminding me that being a Marine didn’t erase my personal responsibilities.
Over time, his actions taught me that leadership wasn’t about proving how tough or intimidating I could be. It was about building trust, listening, and creating stability for others. When Marines told me I brought calm when they expected chaos, I realized that kind of presence mattered more than any insignia.
Looking back, I see the gaps too. If I could do it over, I’d invest more in my personal life, instead of focusing solely on my career. I would’ve put some time to the side and focus on building my personal life.
In the end, climbing ranks taught me the value of ambition, but what stayed with me was humility, consistency, and resilience. Promotions are temporary. Policies can shift overnight. But how you carry yourself, how you treat people, and how you face adversity, those are the marks of leadership that last long after a promotion.
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