Sam Chavez. That name, man, it still pops into my head sometimes, even after all these years. It’s funny how certain people stick with you, right?
I first crossed paths with Sam Chavez when I got shunted over to what they called the “Advanced Development Unit.” Sounds pretty impressive, doesn’t it? Well, “advanced” was one word for it. “Chaos” was another that came to mind pretty quick.
Sam was the head honcho there. Not your typical suit-and-tie manager who’d give you a nice, neat spreadsheet with all your tasks. Nope. That wasn’t Sam’s style at all.
My first week, I remember walking up to Sam, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, asking for the project roadmap, you know, the big plan. He just sort of grinned, this quirky little grin he had, and waved his hand at this massive whiteboard. It was covered, and I mean covered, in scribbles, arrows, and what looked like abstract art. “It’s all in the system,” he’d say, tapping his head. The whiteboard was just his scratchpad, I guess.
So, that’s where my real “practice” started. The practice of figuring out what the heck Sam Chavez actually wanted us to do. It felt like wading through treacle most days.
My whole process had to change. It went something like this:
- Get to work, grab a coffee, and try to decode the latest set of cryptic notes Sam had left.
- Spend a good hour or two trying to sync up with what the rest of the team thought we were doing.
- Actually start building something.
- Then, around lunchtime, Sam would stroll in, fresh idea bubbling, and we’d pivot. Hard.
- The afternoon was basically damage control and trying to re-steer the ship.
Honestly, there were times I thought I was losing my mind. I’d tell my partner, “This Sam Chavez, he’s either a genius or completely off his rocker, and I can’t figure out which.” It was frustrating. Super frustrating. I was used to structure, to clear goals. This was… different.
I actually polished up my resume a couple of times during those first few months. I really did. The “practice” of just surviving the day was exhausting.
But then, a weird thing started to happen. Slowly, very slowly, I began to see a kind of method to his madness. It wasn’t a traditional method, not by a long shot. Sam’s way was about throwing you into the fire. He’d give you these vague, almost impossible-sounding tasks. And then he’d just… trust you to figure it out. Or maybe he just forgot he asked, sometimes I wasn’t sure.
My practice shifted from “give me the detailed instructions” to “okay, what’s the core problem here, and how can I solve it with what I’ve got?” I started talking more to the other folks on the team, we started relying on each other a lot more. We had to.
I remember this one project, a total nightmare. The deadline was insane, client was breathing down our necks. Everyone was stressed to the max. Sam, though? He seemed almost… calm. He’d wander around, ask a few questions, tell an awful joke, and then, just like that, he’d make one tiny suggestion, or move one person from one task to another, and suddenly, a bottleneck would clear. We made that deadline. I still don’t quite know how.
Looking back, that whole period working under Sam Chavez was my trial by fire. It wasn’t about following a manual. It was about learning to think on my feet, to be adaptable, to not be scared of a bit of chaos. My “practice” became about embracing the unknown a little bit.
It wasn’t comfortable, and I wouldn’t want every boss to be like Sam. But the things I learned, the way I learned to just get stuff done, no matter how messy the starting point? That stuck with me. It made me a hell of a lot more resilient, that’s for sure. So yeah, Sam Chavez. A tough teacher, but a teacher nonetheless.
