A former co-worker has written a book. He is a wonderful man who has gone through some pretty amazing things – he’s a former fundamentalist Christian, former Marine, and current gay man.
Anyway, he and I had one interaction that I rate as probably the lowest point in my career. He did an assignment for me, and what I got from him was not the best work. I had to redo it myself. I remember being angry, because my family was in town and I had to cancel lunch plans with them to rewrite the document. After it was all done, I knew I had to talk to him about the project and where he went wrong.
And my position, essentially, is that he went wrong by not telling me earlier that he was having trouble. No one is perfect and we all have bad days. He had two days to do the assignment; I spoke with him once the first day, and twice the second day. Each time, I called him to see how it was going, and each time, he told me it was fine.
So I called him into my office to tell him that it wasn’t his best work and, in the future, he needed to tell me earlier if he’s having trouble so I can help. I found a couple things he did well in the document, and started out with those. As I turned to the bad news, he interrupted me to say, “I’m sorry. I need a minute. I’ll be back.”
He left – the office, the firm and, ultimately the law.
For a long time, I thought it was me, that it was my fault that he’d left. I told myself that I handled it poorly and should have done a better job talking to him so as not to break his spirit. He told me later that I bear no responsibility – that his whole life was falling apart at that time, and that I had given him “the nicest ass-chewing possible,” and the fact that he couldn’t handle me was the final indication it was all out of control.
I still feel awful, and reading about that incident in his book has brought all that emotion back to me. Don’t you ever wish you could turn back the clock and do something differently? Ah, well. It’s not going to be a good night.
