There are few things I hate worse than being wrong; that sickening feeling when I realize “I’ve made a mistake, and now I have to deal with the consequences.” I loathe being wrong, and worse still, having to own up to it.

The worst times still haunt me. They creep in to mind at the oddest times, and each time I feel that same sinking feeling - as if it’s all happening over again.

They tell me there’s value in making mistakes, that mistakes help us learn and grow, but “they” say a lot of things, don’t they? Thinking back, I can’t help but think it would all be better if someone had just said “that’s a stupid idea, and I would strongly recommend against it.”

What really makes me sick is that often, looking back, I didn’t need that person, I knew better but did it anyways. Stupid me.

At work we’re closing an office, and I can’t help but to think it’s my fault. It’s not all gloom and doom, all of the staff still have a job with the company - they’re just expected to move if they want to keep it. Why are we closing the office? Communication is difficult, accountability is grey, curltv is done for the summer, the job crunch in Edmonton is waining, the lease is up, the new office has plenty of space… I think it’s the right call, but when it affects real people, it is hard to be subjective.

So is this another mistake? Another regret? I hope not. I’ve never been part of a decision that’s lead to people losing their jobs, and now that I have I think that it’s really messing with me. Dear lord, if I ever have to actually fire someone I think I’ll just die; that would be easier.

So I analyze the situation; looking at it from every angle. Trying to see all of the possibilities and making sure that I have done everything I could to prevent making another mistake. Because I hate making mistakes and the thought of making of that costs someone a job is not something I could bear.