I spent most of my career, about a quarter century’s worth of it, as a boss. I was the guy responsible for scouting, hiring, training, managing, motivating, directing, disciplining, budgeting and evaluating my people. And, of course, I also answered to the boss who was above me.

I became a boss because other bosses decided I was good at my regular job, and someone thought I might also be good at helping others get good at it, too. And in the end I was, but not at first.

Because back in the beginning I made one of the stupidest mistakes a boss can make. I wanted my people to like me. In today’s terminology, I curried their favor.

I tried to be their friend. Just one of the guys. The boss you want to hang out with after work.

It was, of course, a disaster.

It was bad enough that my own boss, the guy with the fancy office at the other end of the building, called me over one day so we could “chat.”

Space won’t allow me to repeat everything he said, but he made it clear that he wasn’t paying me to be my employees’ BFF. And then he offered the simple observation that probably saved my career.

“It’s a funny thing about leaders,” he said, “people expect them to lead.”

Not dictatorially, of course. Intelligently, wisely and compassionately. But in the end, you’re not paid to curry favor with your people — you’re paid to lead them. You listen to them and evaluate their ideas, but then you choose, not coddle. You act. That’s leadership.

I’m bringing this up because of all the contradictory ballyhoo that’s been coming from Republicans in Congress. These are the modern leaders of the party that always considers itself to be the true grownups in the Room of Governance, in contrast to the constant low-grade hysteria typically displayed by the Democrats.

But lately congressional Republicans have been acting more like appeasers than leaders. In their rush to get their noses sufficiently browned by the election deniers and violence mongers among their party, they’ve collectively fallen over themselves to get to the front of a crowd that makes up the back of the line.

To begin with, there is the stink over Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene, R-Georgia, who, prior to her election, opined that a bullet to the head of Nancy Pelosi was fine with her, 9/11 was staged, the 2018 Parkland High School mass shooting never occurred, and yada yada.

Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell called such talk “looney tunes,” but in dealing with it, House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy managed to turn freestyle foot-dragging into a likely future Olympic event.

But there’s also the in-house Republican stink over Rep. Liz Cheney, R-Wyoming, who voted to impeach the president. “Kick her out of her leadership position” has been the party hue and cry, but in a secret-ballot vote, house Republicans lopsidedly chose to keep her in place. The evidence is self-evident. The Republican members of the House know what’s right. They’re just scared to say it in public.

Think that one over. Foot dragging? Scared to say what’s true to curry favor? That’s not leadership; it’s groveling.

One wonders who they’re scared of, although everyone already knows — the beast they helped create by their own silence.

Meanwhile, Sen. Mitt Romney, who, I presume, has a personal fortune large enough to no longer feel the need to sell his soul, said last week that “the Republican party isn’t big enough to have both conservatives and kooks.” That’s a bold statement. But the jury is still out on whether he’s correct.

In America, our republican-styled democracy means we elect leaders to carefully consider and evaluate the issues we face, and then follow their conscience to a decision. Those who pretend to lead by merely parroting the popular swill of those who make the most noise aren’t leaders. They are just hucksters covering their political assets.

Someone once asked, “For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” Today’s answer: Probably five to ten focus-group points.

That’s not leadership, but these days it’s how we measure political salvation.

Chris Huston is an author and award-winning columnist living in southern Idaho. Connect with Chris on both Facebook and Instagram at Chris Huston-Finding My Way and at chrishustonauthor.com.