Virgil Miller, a Marine veteran who has spent more than 22 years at Aflac and now serves as its president, says the most important leadership lesson of his career came before he ever left boot camp at Parris Island — on a night when a drill instructor dropped his fearsome persona to help a recruit in crisis.
Miller, who enlisted in the Marines as an 11th grader and later served during Operation Desert Storm, describes the episode as the foundation of the leadership philosophy he follows today: people first, then process, then performance. He calls it «The Formula.» Behind it, he says, is a deeper idea — that authentic leadership means recognizing and meeting the moment, whether it calls for a disciplined executive or a caring human being, and often for both at once.
The incident occurred during fire watch, the overnight guard duty recruits take turns pulling in the squad bay. Recruits are unarmed but responsible for staying alert, a test of discipline even when nothing seems likely to happen. On this night, Miller realized a squad mate was trying to take his own life and knew he had to wake his drill instructor.
He describes the apprehension of that moment as far worse than a teenager waking a grumpy parent to confess to wrecking the car. When he banged on the door, the drill instructor emerged in his underwear and berated him before Miller could get the news out. The instructor then muttered something Miller says he cannot repeat, disappeared back into his room and shut the door.
What happened next changed Miller's understanding of leadership. The drill instructor reemerged dressed, looked Miller in the eye and told him to stay put. He then went into the bathroom, put his arm around the distraught recruit and began talking in a way Miller had never heard from him — like a human. The instructor told the recruit that the Marines are not for everybody, offered to take care of him and get him out, and said the situation was not worth killing himself over. The recruit, Miller writes, got to go on with his life.
Miller's first reaction, beyond relief, was that his drill instructor had been faking it — that the tough, loud, colorful persona was an act. His second thought was that perhaps, when the situation demanded it, the man was more human than he had realized. In hindsight, Miller says, both faces were real, and the things done under each persona are valuable.
That dual example has guided him since. In business, Miller says he strives to show the control and persistence expected of a Marine veteran, while also echoing the fatherly drill instructor who comforted a distraught kid. The circumstances are rarely that dramatic, he notes, but the value of human understanding, patience and seeing things through another person's eyes cannot be overstated.
After Parris Island and Desert Storm, Miller left the military and worked for a cable TV company and a delivery company before joining an insurance company. He began his career working the phones in a call center and earned 16 promotions in 12 years. In that role, helping stressed and disgruntled policyholders was not a life-or-death experience, but his drill instructor's example still applied: he had rules to follow and could not wave away people's problems, but what callers needed to hear was that someone understood how they felt and was trying to help.
Miller still oversees call center operations, now in a far different role. Some callers have routine questions about filling out a form; others have been in an accident or had a loved one involved in one; and some are cancer patients navigating the scariest moments of their lives. Those callers, like every Aflac employee, sometimes must hear tough news and other times simply need a compassionate arm around the shoulder. Miller says he tries never to forget that everyone is human — the lesson he carries from a single night at boot camp into the leadership of a major insurer.