Own Your Sh*t

Sorry I left y’all high and dry last week. I did have something drafted, but I ended up a) not really liking it, and b) in a flurry of activity ahead of doing a down-and-back to visit my parents to take care of some Very Important Adult Stuff, so it ended up falling by the wayside. Life, amirite?

On with the show, as it were…

This is definitely going to be me playing choirmaster to a great number of you. The rest of you? Well, pay attention, because you might learn something.

Humans make mistakes. We all do it from time to time. Hell, I fuck shit up all over the place, even when I’m trying really hard not to. It’s just a thing that happens. Is it fun? No. Do we like doing it? No. But, like death and taxes, it is an inevitability. At some point or another, we are going to screw something up to some degree. It might be slight, it might be drastic, it might be somewhere in between—but it’s going to happen. When it does, you have two* options.

Option one, you find a scapegoat. Pass the buck. Lay the blame everywhere but where it actually sits. Make excuses. Curse the world, or technology, or your cubicle neighbor for talking too loudly on a conference call. Basically, you claim innocence, even though the evidence is against you. This option is the favorite of those who feel they can do no wrong. We all know at least one person in this camp. Nothing is ever their fault (even when it clearly is). They love to point fingers. You want to buy them a shovel for Christmas to help them along with the holes they like to dig for themselves.

Option two, you OWN YOUR SHIT. Acknowledge the mistake, make the appropriate apologies, fix the issue, and move on.

Now, nobody likes to be wrong. Nobody likes to be told, “Hey, you screwed this up.” But it’s a fact of life, and the sooner you learn to deal with it gracefully, the better. The other party/ies involved will appreciate your candor far more than having to listen to you blame everything down to the leftover enchilada you ate last Tuesday that messed with your insides for twenty-four hours. Trust me. I was not one of natures little owner-uppers until a decent way into my twenties. I had to force myself to change how I reacted when something I did didn’t work out the way it was supposed to. There was a significant learning curve. It took time, and a lot of deep breathing, but I managed it.

Of course, as I am wont to do, I really just tipped everything over in the opposite direction and now operate under the assumption that everything I touch will automatically turn to shit, and if something is broken, it’s my fault. (Even when I have nothing to do with it.)

I’m rabbiting on about this in the spirit of good fellowship. Perhaps you’ll realize that you can do better. Perhaps you’re already good at this but know someone who would benefit from a change of perspective.

Why are we talking about this? I may or may not have had to deal with a blamer this week. Now go forth and heed my words, peasants!



*There is, technically, an option three, which is the ‘little white lie’. This is perfectly acceptable in instances of small mistakes where you can blame things like gremlins in the system because you know it’s easier to appease the person you’re talking to that way. Most of us employ this—don’t pretend you don’t. But it’s only a good idea when you know you can get away with it.

“Did you get my email?”

::stares at email at bottom of inbox where it has been for three days because you didn’t want to deal with it:: “Oh, no! It must have got caught in my spam filter! No, wait, here it is. I’m so sorry, I filed it in the wrong place by mistake. Let’s take a look.”

You know, that kind of thing. Harmless.