If you know me or you read my last story, I’m sure you’re wondering: “What the hell was the Department of State thinking when they hired you?” I’ve often wondered that myself. It’s probably safe to say that my path was nontraditional.
I grew up a military brat moving around the U.S. to different Army posts until I graduated from high school. Not being quite ready to grow up, I then screwed around for a couple of years going to college and hitchhiking on and off around the U.S. Eventually, I enlisted in the Air Force and got out when I was 26. Those eight years after hight school were both terrifying and fun. I’m sure I learned more about myself when I was hitchhiking around then during any other time of my life. I learned about leadership, and I worked with incredible people in the Air Force.
After six years in the AF, I felt too comfortable and decided it was time to leave. I went back to college at the University of Hawaii at Mānoa. I loved everything about UH: the teachers were fun and interesting, the students were amazing, and, of course, living in Hawaii was great. As I got closer to graduation, I still hadn’t figured out what I wanted to do. What does one do with a degree in political science?
As I pondered this question, I saw a notice on the bulletin board indicating that the Foreign Service written exam was going to be given in Hawaii in three months. I had a few friends who had taken the exam, so I knew kind of what the FS was: it wasn’t the Foreign Legion, and it had something to do with diplomacy. So I sent in the postcard application and waited for the test date. I didn’t even bother to tell my girlfriend (and future wife) that I was going to take the exam - there was no way I was going to pass so why get her hopes up?
The exam was a casual affair given in a high school classroom in Hawaii. Most of us who took the exam wore shorts, t-shirts, and flip flops. We were at least comfortable! The test was difficult, and I kept thinking that, perhaps, I should have done something to prepare for it. When I finished, I was grateful that I hadn’t told my girlfriend about the test - What a waste of time! Several months later, though, I received a letter stating that I had passed and explaining how to sign up for the oral assessment.
Well, that was a surprise! Now what? I didn’t own a suit, a dress shirt, or dress shoes - I was a student in Hawaii why would I need those things? Did I want to spend money to buy clothing I’d never wear again to take an exam that I wouldn’t pass? No. But, I could rent them. Why not? It would at be least an experience.
So I completed the required information and requested an interview date. Fortunately, they used to give oral assessments in Hawaii periodically so I didn’t have to fly anywhere to take the test. Three months later as the date for the assessment approached, I rented a suit from Sears, found some place to rent dress shoes, and bought a cheap dress shirt and socks. I didn’t need to buy a tie because I owned two beautiful Chanel ties, which I had received as a thank-you gift for working as rent-a-cop for a Chanel show in Honolulu. They were the most expensive articles of clothing I owned. And they looked good!
Sadly, the ties were the only thing that looked good. I hadn’t worn a suit in so long that the one I rented looked like a bag on me, I chose the wrong color suit (to match the ties, not me) so it looked like a big, goofy bag on me, and the shoes hurt! I had to wear my flip flops to the assessment and change into my dress shoes outside the building leaving my flip flops outside under a bush.
I looked awful: bad suit, bad posture, blistered feet from bad shoes, cheap socks, all set off by a stunning Chanel tie, which just highlighted how cheap everything else was. Wearing shorts, t-shirts, and flip flops is poor practice for wearing a suit! My body just wasn’t disciplined enough to carry it off. I looked like what I was: a beach bum wearing a cheap suit. Perfect!
I showed up at 7:00 a.m. at Ft. DeRussy, a U.S.-Army-owned property just off of Waikiki Beach. Five other applicants were waiting when I arrived. They looked sharp: PhD candidates with proper suits. Perfect!
About 7:15 a person came out to explain the process for the day-long oral assessment. We would each do the same things, but except for a group exercise at the end of the day, we would do each one separately and in different order.
I had the pleasure(!) of being randomly chosen to start with the two-on-one session, where two Foreign Service Officers would take turns asking me knowledge and scenario-based questions. Perfect! It was a great way to start the day. Imagine my surprise when I walked into the room and saw that the two FSOs, John and Tom, were wearing suits worse than the one I was wearing, minus the magnificent tie! It looked like they were the suits they had purchased to join the FS thirty years before: faded, two small, and really out of style! We connected immediately!
They introduced themselves, and I told them a bit about myself. Then John asked his first question:
“Explain the Third World debt problem. How did it come about? How can we solve it?” (NB: Third World debt was a big issue back in the late 80s.)
Perfect! Deep breath. Slight smirk. “OK. You’d like me to explain the Third World debt problem. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
Another deep breath, big smile, leaning forward for maximum impact: “You know, guys, if I could do that, I would be on Wall Street earning a hell of a lot more money than the State Department could ever pay me.”
They looked at me, turned to look at each other, and then roared with laughter. We laughed and joked through the rest of the hour-long session. I was relaxed - the exam was over before it had begun, and I may as well have fun! I left at that end a long day thinking that I would never hear from them again. Thank god I had never told my girlfriend about the exam!
Imagine my surprise when four months later, I received a letter indicating that I had passed (barely) and explaining next steps. I could only imagine the conversation among the assessors at the end of the day:
“You know that guy in the cheap suit with the great tie, who grimaced every time he took a step, and who didn’t get a single answer right?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s pass him so that he can mess with the State Department for the next 30 years.”
“Great idea!” Gales of laughter!
In any case, the night I received that letter saying I had passed, I took my girlfriend, who still had no idea I had taken the exam, out for an excellent dinner to celebrate: “Lei-Kun, WE passed the Foreign Service Test. We’re going to be diplomats!” I knew that she was going to have to give up her career to follow me around the globe. If we were going to be successful, she had to agree to the crazy new life. She loved the idea, and 18 months later our adventures in the Foreign Service began.
**Based on a true story. A shorter version is found in “Einfach Besser Führen,” by Alexander Gorjinia and Jim Herman. Alexander and his wife, Claudia, run the Enkelmann Institute in Königstein, Germany.
Hey Jim, that's a hilarious Herman-esque (mis)adventure! I took (and also barely passed) my FS orals at Ft. DeRussy. About 1988. Probabaly the same two interviewers. Fortunately, I already had a cheap suit -- if I had only had a splendid Chanel tie, they might have brought me in at a higher grade! ML