Pride before the fall

-

Settling into our seats before the gala event started, the vice-president and I both leafed through the program. When I saw the sponsorship ad from my employer I was shocked. It was the wrong one! I had a moment of blind panic wondering how that could possibly have happened on my watch as department manager, then I leaned over to the vice-president to alert him to the problem. Eyebrow raised, he told me we would discuss it in the morning. 

I have no memory of that conversation, but I do remember clearly the feeling I had when I realized that I had played a major part in creating the problem. As I had gone over the chain of events leading to the program’s printing, I remembered that the event communication person had called me to ask if I was sure the ad we had sent was, in fact, the one we wanted to have in the program. With hardly a moment’s reflection, I had said, yes, it was. Oh, the person said, OK. And that was that. Problem cemented, though I didn’t know there was a problem until the night of the event. 

It turns out that, somehow, indeed, my department had sent in the wrong ad, but I had been so sure of our proofing and sign-off procedures that I did not give credence to the event person’s question. I was too busy being self-assured and proud to spend even a moment listening to him and questioning myself. 

That’s very bad form, because nothing is so valuable as feedback offered by someone who has your best interests at heart. (Unlike a different vice-president in that same company who took great pleasure in circling errors in the newsletter my department printed. He would mark the mistakes in pen in his copy and then leave the issue open on my desk for all to see. Horrid — not helpful or respectful.) But when I hear from readers who are responding with genuine engagement to what I have written — well, I am open to it all: praise, critique or question. Bring it on.

I learned an important professional lesson — and also life lesson — from that gala event printing mistake. And it’s one I continue to benefit from as I put more and more writing out into the world: When I hit ‘send’ or ‘publish’ these days, I hear that quiet insistent voice in the back of my brain asking, Are you sure? Did you get it right? No mistakes in this one? Well, I am human, and I will make mistakes. So, if you see them before I do, please let me know. My mind is open, as are my ears. I'll gladly take your call (or read your email). 

———
Land acknowledgement: I respectfully recognize that I live on the original lands of Anishinaabe, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota and Dene peoples, and on the homeland of the Métis Nation.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash 

Comments

Post a Comment

Comments are moderated. Please be respectful.

Popular posts from this blog

Listening for the piano / Thinking about grief

-
Image
Grief is not a land in which I have travelled much, though I routinely explore it via others’ experience. I am drawn to do this as a student is drawn to the masters: To observe, to sit with, to wonder if those others’ experiences might help prepare me for my own when I find myself in that place. Will it? Sara Paretsky, author of the V.I. Warshawski mystery series, says that the grief over her long-time husband’s death hit her like a grand piano falling out of the sky onto her head. There is no pre-mourning, she says. Nonetheless, I persist in my studies: Memoirs of loss. Stories of grief. Tales of survival. I sit with those experiences. The words, the feelings, the anguish wash over me. And I ask myself: Will the sun rise tomorrow? Will I see it when it does?  Should I worry about this? Should I just expect, presume that what has always been will always be? Absurd. It will not always be. The loves of my life are all older, are all old. 95, my mother. Almost 80, my p...
Read more

Anniversary post: This year marks 31 together

-
Image
Amanda and Val: many years ago and today.  Man, look how young we were. Sheesh. Thirty-one years and counting certainly shows. But who in their right mind would care about wrinkles or grey hair when it is a good and generous love that has propelled us through the years together.  Every good story is told through both summary and scenes. Val & Amanda’s story: The summary A generous love that has withstood the challenges of two bouts of cancer and multiple joint replacements, of job changes and career disappointments, of cats found and cats lost, of parents living and parents dying. Two women, together, building a good life. Amanda: Three scenes April 1997: Val and I are driving from Winnipeg  down through the Dakotas and Wyoming and Utah to Arizona, camping in a tent along the way and marvelling at what we can do together, still, after Val’s cancer diagnosis earlier that year. At a roadside cafe somewhere in Utah, a woman asks me if we are sisters. Without skipping a b...
Read more

If pride comes before a fall, what comes after disappointment?

-
Image
Disappointment is not something any of us aim for, I’m sure. The very last thing I ever want to be told by someone is that they are disappointed in me. But this week, I have been very disappointed in others. Life goes on, but that niggling thread of “if only” and “why could it not have been different” lingers in the corners of my mind. Last week’s lightening-quick sale of our cottage ended in disappointment all round when the deal fell through at the final hurdle. The details are not what matter here; what matters is that age-old life lesson about counting your chickens before they’re hatched and sharing good news before it is fully rooted and secured. But who among us has not jumped the gun? Presumed that all would go as promised, as planned? Believed in the goodness of people and trusted that the story would unfold as it had begun — smoothly, seamlessly, successfully? Ah, well. Sometimes it just doesn’t. So we find ourselves at a new beginning, with a different round of showings and...
Read more