My Favorite Mistake

it's a good one.

Last weekend, I was at a café waiting for my order when something remarkable happened.

A barista called out to her coworker, “I’m doing really well today! I only made two mistakes!”

If you’re waiting for the remarkable bit, that was it. (If you’re a perfectionist currently swimming upstream through the relentless torrent of self-inflicted criticism, there’s a decent chance you already recognized it.)

The barista was beaming with pride. It was touching to behold. It was also, to my eyes, deeply confounding.

Only two mistakes.

I blinked, like I’d just witnessed a giraffe turn purple and tap dance out of the shop.

Never in my life have I uttered such a phrase, about any goof, gaffe, misstep, error, or perceived slip. Filtered through my internal monologue, the same sentiment would sound more like, “You fucked up. Twice.” Followed by some version of, “What is wrong with you? Such an embarrassment. Why try? Might as well quit.”

Is it mean? Yes. Defeatist? You bet. Fun to listen to? Not particularly. And while I’ve gotten much better at awareness and self-kindness, it persists.

I watched the barista, partly out of fear that my overpriced beverage might become mistake number three, but also because I wanted to learn her ways. How does one cultivate such an aura of acceptance? How does one find joy in the less-than-perfect learning process? Could I do it, too?

*

On a rational level, I understand and accept that to err is human. As Mister Rogers once told me, mistakes are inevitable, not to mention how we learn. (Per the episode summary, “Mister Rogers helps viewers know that people can make mistakes and still have people love them.” 🥺)