Like most people, I like finding a groove and staying in it. Occasionally, if all the stars align just so, maybe I’ll learn something new. Like many people, I’m most comfortable sticking to a my sedate routine. But suddenly, I found myself catapulted into unfamiliar territory.

While remotely assisting a new client, two of us planned to co-lead a meeting with her new clients. I’d been forewarned that my co-leader might not make the meeting. However, I chose to believe otherwise, leaving myself unprepared. As predicted, my co-leader never showed. I realized that twenty minutes of prep time with her had not been enough.

Not wanting to fail her, I started awkward introductions. It had been difficult arranging this multi-department head call so I plowed forward. I worried that they felt disrespected by my co-leader, who dropped them into the hands of someone they didn’t know. This thought only magnified itself in the agonizing silences. Initially, no-one offered much information that was helpful to me. I became keenly aware of crickets in the long pauses after my questions. Sometimes no answers at all. What do you do when no one speaks up?

What this means for you

Normally, I want to leap right into that empty space and fill it up. I’ve learned to just sit tight and count to fifty, because it’s uncomfortable for most people. And someone else will fill that space. And they did. Afterward, I thought the meeting had been a total disaster. I mentally relived it, noting the many ways I’d failed, and the questions I’d forgotten to ask or realized I should have asked.

For the following two hours, I beat myself up, feeling like a total fraud, convinced that they thought me a hack.  That’s what many of us do, isn’t it? We stretch into unknown territory either by need or design and in our heads we want (expect?) the meeting to go perfectly. Perfect intro, perfect delivery, perfect responses and in the end: perfection. Even if the whole meeting went perfectly except one thing, we replay that one thing. Instead of applauding all that went right, we make ourselves sick over a single inglorious moment.

Then, I realized the clients had not complained. I went back to listen to the recorded meeting with fresh ears. And you know what? It wasn’t as bad as I thought. It wasn’t perfect (what meeting is?) but the gaps weren’t so long. The group had yielded answers to all but one question. I saw how I could  improve my meeting skills with just a few tweaks.

We’re all in various stages of learning new things. Stepping into unknown territory is bravery-making. In reality, I fumbled in places and noticed they did too. However, we remained polite and professional and pushed forward. The meeting wasn’t the disaster I initially perceived it to be. When the replay finished, more had been accomplished than I’d given myself credit for. An overall win.

It’s important to give myself grace when things don’t go as perfectly as I imagined, and take note of all that went right. As hard as it might be to admit, I learn the most in those moments where I fail. Instead of treating failure as the enemy, I give myself permission to learn from the experience.

By reframing perception, instead of seeing failure look at it from what did you learn? How would you do it over? What would you do differently? What would have made it a success. In fact, knowing how you define success in advance of the meeting can be helpful.

If perception is everything, recasting your inglorious moments can help you find the gold. Is there an experience that didn’t go as planned that still benefitted you? I’d love to hear from you.