When you screw up: Duck for shelter or stand up straight?

Years ago, I was in a large cafeteria and watched a scene unfold that I’ve thought of again and again. A young man, probably about twenty-years-old, was leaning against a large cart of silverware. The cart was about six feet long and about two feet deep, and clearly not stable. But he leaned against it. And when he straightened up to walk away, the cart began to fall.

As the cart tipped, hundreds of metal forks, knives, and spoons clattered spectacularly to the tile floor; they rang out in the tall-ceilinged room like a brief concert, ending with the loud crash of the cart on the floor. The noise was impressive and everyone in the room seemed to stop. In that moment of stillness, the young man’s voice was clear, “That wasn’t my fault.” He turned and basically ran out the door.

I don’t remember people groaning or shaking their heads, but I imagine both when I replay this moment.

Over the years, I’ve come up with different responses he might have made. Such as, “And for my next number, I’ll play a quieter, sweeping kind of tune.” Or, “Just for today, eating with your fingers will be considered socially acceptable.”

Or even, “Oops. Sorry.”

I thought I understood his reaction: the mess he made was causing him such embarrassment (shame?) that he wanted to distance himself from it immediately. And there was no distance. Amazing how we will try, even when the circumstances are so obviously piled against us. In his case, he created the distance by fleeing. I can’t imagine his response was very satisfying to him. It surely wasn’t to anyone else in the room.

What he’d done wasn’t really so terrible, after all. He interrupted people’s lunch momentarily and made some extra work for the staff. And it was embarrassing. But certainly, this was not a crisis of unmanageable proportions. The thought of someone blaming him, though, was more than he could bear in that moment.

The reason I’ve thought of this scenario over the years is that it is familiar. Maybe the silverware cart example is more obvious than most, but we can often see people making basically the same pronouncement—“That wasn’t my fault”—with the same lack of credibility. We see it in businesses, in government, and in our relationships.

There’s no question that we’re going to make mistakes, be thoughtless, and even screw up royally. The only question is how we’re going to handle it when we do.

When we can gracefully acknowledge our mistakes, and do what we can do to fix them, we feel better and the world hums along a little more easily. When we try to blame someone else, or try to justify our behavior in some way, it can be maddening for those affected. And we know better, too.

Sometimes, our inability to simply take responsibility for what we’ve created is more problem-making than the actual creation. Why don’t we just own up?

That answer seems pretty obvious. People can be harsh and quick to jump on any infraction, real or perceived. When we live in a world that doesn’t allow for mistakes, we want to duck for cover; it’s a smart strategy. If we want people to own up to their screw-ups, we have to figure out how to be compassionate when people do screw up. Because they will. Because we will. A genuine acknowledgement and some kind of restitution are so much more satisfying for everyone involved. It’s so great when the world can just keep humming along.

That’s the biggest thing I’ve wished for that silverware guy over the years. I’ve wished he could live in a world where he could laugh at his minor infraction, help clean up, and then sit down to enjoy his lunch. Humming right along.