I’m fortunate to be traveling overseas again, this time not by ship or military plane supporting a CODEL, but on a United Polaris flight. Each traveler has their own pod—privacy, comfort, and service that anticipates every need over a ten-hour journey. It’s a far cry from the transports of my Navy days, but the contrast sparked a reflection first about standing out on travel; later about standing out in general.

One thing about Polaris: nobody stands out. It’s like Southwest Airlines with champagne—everyone is in First Class.

The Navy Lesson

In the Navy, standing out was often discouraged. On liberty overseas, regulations required no jeans, collared shirt tucked in, belt and shoes. The point wasn’t fashion—it was about standards, representing the United States abroad, and projecting respect for the local culture in foreign ports where Americans were already conspicuous.

Over time, those standards have evolved. Restrictions on women’s hairstyles, men’s facial hair, and visible tattoos have loosened, reflecting changing norms while still holding to the principle of cohesion.

At one point, U.S. servicewomen stationed in Saudi Arabia were directed to wear an abaya and veil off-base. Lieutenant Colonel Martha McSally—the first female A-10 pilot—famously challenged that directive, suing the Secretary of Defense in U.S. federal court. On a fast career track, she risked everything to stand against an order that compromised both her dignity and her rights. Her stand ultimately changed policy.

Jefferson captured this balance centuries ago: “In matters of style, swim with the current; in matters of principle, stand like a rock.” Standards evolve—uniforms, hairstyles, even tattoos—but the principle remains: how we present ourselves signals who we are.

The Club Lesson

That tension between style and principle shows up outside the military too. At private golf clubs, the grill room is relaxed—you can wear what you wore on the course. But step into the main dining room at dinner, and a jacket for men is often required. The distinction isn’t about fabric. It’s about protecting the institution’s culture and reputation.

The Business Irony

In business, we often reverse the Navy’s logic. We try to stand out everywhere. Too often, companies blur sales, PR, brand, and marketing into one noisy pitch. Overselling the widget at every opportunity ignores the very knowable cycle of the 3-Ring Circus of Federal Sales®.

Each discipline requires a different skillset:

– Sales transacts and closes.

– PR builds reputation and credibility.

– Brand defines long-term identity.

– Marketing amplifies the story.

Treat them as one and you dilute their impact. Treat them as complementary and you build a durable public face.

Influence vs. Attention

This is where social media complicates the picture. The Kardashians, Taylor Swift, Mr. Beast—they’ve perfected the art of turning attention into revenue. Their model works because their “currency” is cultural influence: likes, shares, and followers convert into sponsorships, affiliate sales, and brand deals.

Federal sales plays by a different set of rules. Influence here isn’t measured in clicks but in requirements met at reasonable cost:

– price per flight hour,

– cost per square mile of coverage,

– life-cycle sustainment value,

– readiness delivered at scale.

Credibility, not popularity, drives outcomes.

That’s why CEOs like Mary Barra (GM) or Satya Nadella (Microsoft) testify before Congress—not to build followers, but to shape regulatory frameworks that open or close markets worth billions.

It’s why analysts such as Todd Harrison (CSIS), Mackenzie Eaglen (AEI), or Byron Callan (Capital Alpha) matter. A single report, briefing, or chart can ripple across the Pentagon and Capitol Hill—often having more impact than a dozen press releases or trade group statements.

And it’s why entrepreneurs like Elon Musk (SpaceX) or Palmer Luckey (Anduril) are recognizable beyond their industries: their innovations don’t just launch rockets or deploy autonomous defense systems—they redefine categories of capability, winning contracts and shaping doctrine.

The contrast is stark:

– Influencers trade attention for dollars.

– Federal sales leaders convert credibility into requirements met, budgets funded, and programs sustained.

Lessons from the Market

The power dynamic isn’t limited to government. Consider the Dow Jones Industrial Average—a name that feels almost quaint in today’s economy. The word industrial once reflected America’s manufacturing backbone. Today, the Dow’s weight is disproportionately carried by just seven tech companies—Apple, Microsoft, Alphabet, Amazon, Meta, Nvidia, Tesla.

The concentration of influence is telling: just as in Washington, a few players set the standard and dominate the flow of capital. The lesson is the same: standing out isn’t about everyone being noticed—it’s about the right few commanding the market.

Apple stages choreographed launches that are as much brand theatre as sales event. SpaceX broadcasts spectacle—rocket recovery splashes across screens—but wins with disciplined delivery. Patagonia’s values-driven identity sustains loyalty. Contrast them with WeWork, Theranos, or Peloton—companies that mistook hype for durable influence and paid the price.

The Takeaway

Whether in a Polaris pod, a Navy liberty port, a club dining room, a congressional hearing, or even on the trading floor, standing out is never just about visibility. It’s about clarity, credibility, and consistency—the real currencies of influence.

What Am I Reading?

Gambling Man by Lionel Barber is a fascinating look at Masayoshi Son, the founder of SoftBank, whose influence runs through some of the world’s most recognizable companies — Alibaba, Yahoo Japan, Arm, Uber, and even the turbulent story of WeWork. I knew the brands but not the man, and Barber’s portrait made me appreciate the audacity behind them. What resonated most was Son’s personal story: growing up as a Korean in Japan, choosing for a time to suppress his identity, and later reclaiming it. That cultural tension gives real depth to his journey and mirrors the contrasts in his business life.

The book captures Son’s extraordinary willingness to gamble on the future. Through SoftBank, he has made astonishingly bold bets — some spectacularly successful, others nearly disastrous — yet he always seems to find a way forward. Barber makes the scale of those deals easy to grasp, while never losing sight of the human side: Son’s resilience, charisma, and relentless drive. It’s a compelling read that left me inspired by both the risks taken and the persistence to keep going, even when the odds look impossible.