On the Benefits of Making Mistakes

Last week, my boss and I discussed my 2010 job review. I wrote a few pages, she filled out a rating sheet, and then we sat around and talked about how awesome I am. No, I'm not kidding--she actually used words like "awesome" and "fantastic" and phrases like "you're so good at X, Y, and Z" and "I couldn't be happier"! Needless to say, I really enjoyed it--it's always nice to receive positive praise in exchange for a lot of hard work!

In my "narrative" portion of the review, I wrote mostly about how difficult it was this year to gain the depth of knowledge that I needed to do my job well. I also wrote a little bit about how I struggled to improve my communication with my boss by learning when to ask questions and what questions to ask.

But it's what I didn't write about that's been on my mind this week: the benefits of failure. I'm a perfectionist by habit, a terrible nitpicker who hates to let projects go. I used to think that my perfectionism made me a careful, detail-oriented, conscientious worker. I used to think that it made me a better writer, a better baker (well, that one might actually be true), and a better person.

But now I just think that it means that I'm afraid to make mistakes and have other people see my failings. It means that some part of me believes that I have to work harder and have higher standards than everyone else just to be a valuable, productive, and likable person.

But at this job, I've learned to let go of some of my perfectionism--I've had to. When I first started, I knew so little about my department and its processes and its many (many, many, many!) aspects that my days were riddled with mistakes. I had to let go of my perfectionism just to stay sane.

But I was also able to let it go in part because I began to  develop a meaningful rapport with my director. During my first months on the job, I was terrified whenever I had to tell her I had made a mistake. I thought that whenever I told her there had been a typo in an advertisement or a forgotten email or a misdirected student that she would think that she had made a terrible mistake in hiring me. I thought that each mistake would mean that she would consider me unfit to write emails or work in an office or even live in civilized society!

But, in time, I learned that telling her honestly about those mistakes actually improved our relationship. Now that she knows that I'm willing to fess up to my mistakes and learn from them, I think that she has more respect for my integrity and character: she knows that I can admit a failing and willingly start again with her at square one. My mistakes strengthened our bond because I know that I'm allowed to be human and fallible at work, and she knows that I'm consistently upfront with her about my work and its results.

Though I wasn't looking forward to writing or discussing my annual review, it turned out to be a valuable exercise. Naturally, I'm pleased with the feedback I received--hey, who doesn't want to see a row of check marks beneath a "(5) Excellent" column?--but I'm more pleased with what the process has taught me about myself, work relationships, and the benefits of letting perfectionism go.