It seems my last post about my imperfect desk struck a chord. I was actually off undertaking a new executive coaching accreditation when the blog feed went live, such is the power of the online world you needn’t even be in the office to make it seem that you are. So bang. “When being imperfect is perfectly fine” was emailed to over 2,000 of my newsletter contacts. Perfect. Except it was only meant to go automatically to about 12 people. Whoops.
You see, I’ve been in catch up mode these past couple of months. Just before Dad’s diagnosis, my coaching and speaking business was winding up after many years of fun. With schooling under way for the little one, it was time to go back to a real job (or so I thought).
But with the course of events over the past year has come the realization that this is where I want to be – here on this blog, executive coaching, mentoring, facilitating meaningful conversations with women and men about the transitions and decisions we are all leading. Every. Single. Day.
So I’ve been sorting out my back office, building this new, simpler and mobile ready website (do you like it?) and migrating my contacts from various systems and solutions all into MailChimp to help me file all those business cards neatly away. In the process, my fabulous IT support crew made one little oversight. And bang! That’s all it took for 2,000 people to receive a blog post they had no idea why they were receiving. Whoops indeed.
In the past, this would have sent me into a spin. Literally. My blood pressure would have skyrocketed, I would have been manically trying to fix the problem (that actually can’t be fixed – I mean you can’t hit “unsend” can you?) and I would have been hyper vigilant about anything else on my plate and that would probably have only made things worse. Or at least brought activity to a grinding halt.
So this time, I very deliberately reflected on the irony of the subject line: “When being imperfect is perfectly fine”. And I very deliberately breathed. Long deep breaths. For several minutes. In a quiet space on my own (which, since I was at a training course, meant locking myself in a toilet cubicle!!).
Of course I was concerned. I know how cluttered everyone’s email boxes are. I know not everyone would appreciate receiving a random message. I knew some people would want to get as far away from my contact list as possible (and yes, several let me know about that!).
So yes, I was immediately in contact with my IT support. But instead of panic, my priority was ensuring that the source of the problem was known, corrected, and would not happen again. I know my IT team are really are great at what they do, it was a simple oversight that really could have happened to anyone. So then I let it go.
And when I very consciously let it go, a funny thing happened. I started getting emails and comments on the post from people saying thanks, this post had spoken to them. They get it. They’ve been there. Their desks look almost as messy as mine. Hallelujah!
Now you might be reading this and thinking that it all sounds like common sense. It’s not rocket science, perhaps. But I’m not afraid to say that I’m a recovering perfectionist and “letting it go” doesn’t always come easy.
There have been innumerable instances in my career where I’ve worked back late into the night, worked weekends, and demanded the same of my teams, in order to live up to the perfectionist ideal. This is life in today’s world. There is no margin for error. Everything needs to be perfect. Right?
I’ve seen entire colour printed packs shredded for the smallest of errors like using the wrong colour scheme. I’ve seen project plans double and triple checked before even daring to seek peer review. And then for good measure, they’d be checked just once more.
I’ve seen people removed from roles for errors that, on reflection, were forgotten before the week was out. I’m sure in certain circumstances, the need for a ceremonial scalping is real. But for the most part, it does nothing more than create an added layer of paranoia that leads to only one outcome: inefficiency on so many levels.
The desire to be perfect is all around us. It’s what we’re rewarded for. It’s what we strive for. But the perfection problem is crippling. It’s bias on compliance, rather than excellence, is performance limiting. It stops people from experimenting, being curious and performing at their best. We espouse innovation and individualism and mindfulness, but all of this is at risk when we develop an unhealthy relationship with the notion of perfection.
We teach our kids to try, and give it their best shot, and not to be too worried about the outcome. Or do we?
Over the weekend, the school captain from a well-heeled private school in Sydney used her departing speech to encourage more schools and their students to get comfortable with imperfection.
“If the school can’t admit it isn’t perfect how can they expect adolescent girls to realise perfection is unattainable,” she said. “We learn from mistakes. The only dangerous thing about mistakes… is not being able to recognise and admit to them.”
Sarah Haynes is a women well beyond her years. Perfection is unattainable. Maybe we’re all starting to realize that. Maybe there’s even hope for recovering perfectionists like me.
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Yours living in hope,
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