Clear structure and sequence of actions — truth from warrant officer Domashyn

You always have to deliver decisions and a clear sequence of actions. Not process, not deliberation, not reasoning for the sake of reasoning — a finished structure. Everyone likes this — bosses, colleagues, friends, and generally any person who has come to you with a question. Because the person came for a result, not for your behind-the-scenes process. And this isn't some imposed corporate-etiquette rule — it's just a solid baseline skill that immediately distinguishes a person who owns the subject from a person who only pretends to. The one who owns it speaks briefly and to the point. The one who doesn't rambles, because behind the words hides the absence of structure in their head. You don't need to say a lot of extra. You don't need to recount "how I did it, what I went through, what I thought along the way". You need a clear structure and sequence of actions for solving any question. Structure → action → result. This is the format that respects another person's time and at the same time demonstrates that you yourself think structurally. This truth was handed to me by warrant officer Domashyn, who, unfortunately, was killed during the war. I remember that moment very clearly. He came up to me and told me to give him a report on the work completed on his vehicle — the vehicle was to head out to the ATO (Anti-Terrorist Operation zone in eastern Ukraine). And I started telling a great deal, with a heap of extra: how I did it, what the stages were, what I had figured out along the way, what problems came up, how I worked around them. He stopped me and corrected me: he needed a clear report of what I had done, not how I had done it. "Tell me what's done. How you did it is not my business." It was a short, simple, but very strong lesson. I didn't immediately grasp the full weight of those words back then, but with the years — it's one of the most useful rules ever passed on to me. And it's sorrowful that the person who said it is no longer here. He's gone, but the rule remains — and now I pass it on to others the same way he passed it to me: briefly, without extras, to the point.

Warrant officer Domashyn — rest in peace. The lesson he gave me in 30 seconds of conversation has been working for many years and will keep working until the end of my life.