Of the many mistakes I have no doubt made over the last few weeks, two stand out: One cost me money and one cost me some pride.
I made an error in an article, and of the thousands who read it, a few gleefully e-mailed me about it.
I corrected it, although I sheepishly admit my first — though fleeting — instinct was to avoid owning up.
In the second case, in a flurry of zealous organization, I sent in a check to cover a bill for my husband’s monthly train pass. It turns out that he pays by direct debit. I canceled the check.
Then we got a notice that we were being charged $20 for a bounced check.
Neither mistake was on the scale, with, say, amputating the wrong leg or causing two planes to collide.
But they bothered me and made me consider how we are taught to think of mistakes in our society.
A nice story, and interesting to note how a significant project, such as a book, can arise out of a couple of seemingly insignificant events.
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