It was on the heels of a significant career fumble that I decided to do something completely different in my life. My once obsessive love for the restoration industry had cooled and I needed a break. My beautiful and long-suffering wife made the bold move of supporting any career decision that got me out of the house and out of my funk. In a bit of comedic timing, a detective friend at the gym told me that I should become a cop. The idea immediately resonated with me. My thinking fell into two broad categories: first, I could help turn the tide in policing and be a positive influence in a profession that so sorely needs positivity and vision. Second, I could prove to myself that my brain could learn new things and that I was capable of onboarding new skills. Plus, you know, guns and fast cars.
It never even occurred to me that 45 years of age was a bit old for a rookie cop in a major American city. I never once considered the danger. My city was desperate for bodies to fill patrol cars, so it wasn’t long before I found myself being screamed at on day one of a six-month training academy with my head shaved, bear crawling across a field, smiling from ear to ear. Over the next six months, I learned an impossible number of laws, case law that governed every aspect of interaction with citizens, how to use several lethal and non-lethal weapons accurately under extreme duress, how to fight and stay calm, how to drive very fast around tight corners, and most importantly, how to deescalate the most intense situations by using only my words and presence.
I graduated near the top of the class and accepted (even embraced) my role as a father figure to a bunch of diverse kids that came from every possible walk of life: Black, White, Asian, Hispanic, gay, straight, poor, and privileged. There were even a few folks who hadn’t yet gotten all of the Afghan sand out of their boots prior to joining the war on crime. The jabs and jokes about my age gradually turned to respect as I didn’t give up and even occasionally dominated certain aspects of training. Over the course of the next three years, I worked the graveyard shift, moved into a special unit doing crime interdiction, served as a liaison between the police and the business community, and finally ended up on day shift (the dream). I didn’t fix anything about policing, but I learned a ton about myself and met people I wouldn’t have even noticed before this experience. I made a difference in thousands of interactions with the public in nearly as many situations. Nevertheless, the unrest across the nation and the riots that destroyed swaths of my city brought my midlife crisis to an abrupt end. The job had become toxic, and I learned that there were limits to what I was willing to pay for with my time and opportunity.
Far from being a simple diversion, my short time as a cop taught me some incredible lessons about leadership. I don’t feel that I have mined all that the experience had to offer. Here are just a few gifts the badge gave me:
- When everyone is shouting, whisper. It’s easy to fall into the trap of being the loudest in the room, especially when emotions are high. I have a loud, booming voice that struggles to contain itself in the most peaceful of times. My ego wants to win the volume war. But shouting only encourages shouting and the hack is to speak softly. Others will calm down if only to hear what the crazy guy is saying almost under his breath. They will also instinctively mirror you and speak softly in return.
- Empathy is not sympathy. I don’t have to feel sorry for you or fall short of doing my duty to see where you are coming from. Your life experience informs your reaction to circumstances and it’s not crazy to believe what has happened before will happen again. Practicing the skill of seeing an interaction through the eyes of another person can help you customize the message to fit the listener. It is perfectly possible to correct or discipline someone from a place of mutual respect.
- Power is not neutral and can be abused with good intentions. If you are a leader, there is a reality that must be confronted: the greater your position, the lonelier you will be. As a people person, I hate this, and I’m constantly tempted to set it aside because this particular employee is special. Because I’m in a position of power, it’s harder for me to see how an employee’s words and actions might be motivated by a sense of duty or hope for favor. Leaders must stand apart from those they lead.
- Optics matter. When the weather is nice and the rowing is easy, leaders can be jovial, casual, and even reckless in their approach to any given situation. But as the stakes get higher and a crowd gathers, how a decision looks is as important as what the decision does. What sets great leaders apart is their ability to telegraph confidence and security in the midst of chaos. Words and body language count. Emotions count. The right words spoken in anger, panic, or even sarcasm can derail communication and encourage dissent when they are meant to do the opposite. Standing up straight, using measured tones, and paying close attention to our expression and appearance is mandatory to crisis leadership.
- Avoid force. When force must be used, do so aggressively and decisively. Whatever your definition of the “nuclear option”, it must always be the last resort. Firing an employee, cutting ties with a valuable but toxic client, and dealing with an unavoidable shortfall in resources are never fun situations. Seek out the path of least disruption. But when action must be taken, do so with authority. Delaying action that must be taken is the fastest way to erode confidence in your leadership which, in turn, only leads to more need for action. When you must fight, fight so that no one wants to fight again.
Like policing, leadership often seems like an impossible task in the moment. It can be thankless and isolating. We must remind ourselves that it’s what we asked for and pursued for years and the rewards are worth it when the employee reshapes their thinking and excels. The knowledge that growth, if only partially, is the result of our sacrifice. The subtle pride that comes from being willing to do the hard things. All of this and so much more is the gift of leadership. Policing wasn’t something that I was meant to do forever but leadership seems to be at my core. I gravitate toward it and hold myself accountable, especially in my failures. Like policing, we might have divergent opinions on our leaders and second-guess decisions in the light of new information, but we can’t do without them. Like our men and women in law enforcement, we might have days that find us staring for a few minutes longer at the boots we must fill, dreading the steps we must take. But we lace them up and stand tall as we bear the weight with all the grace and strength we can muster. Not for ourselves, but for our people and the mission.
Tom Gissler
Tom Gissler is the president of Restoration 1, an award-winning franchise that specializes in a wide array of emergency mitigations, restoration and reconstruction services. With over 15 years of experience in the franchise industry, Gissler has a proven track record of driving growth and profitability through strategic planning, operational excellence, and strong leadership. Gissler joined Restoration 1 in 2020, bringing with him extensive experience in franchise development, sales, and operations. Prior to joining Restoration 1, he worked in various leadership and support roles for several disaster restoration brands including Rytech Inc., Grayson Recovery & Vigilant Restoration, PuroSystems, Belfor and ServPro. At Restoration 1, Gissler is responsible for driving the company's overall growth strategy and ensuring that the franchise system provides best-in-class restoration services to customers while delivering exceptional support to franchisees.
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