How a simple mistake reminded me about leadership and being human

What should have been a simple task turned into a very public lesson in humility.

After wrapping up a recent Email Essentials training for a corporate client, I sat down to send the follow-up survey to attendees. It was something I had done countless times before. I had a template. I knew the process. I expected it to take just a few minutes after a full day of trainings.

Instead, it took four emails to get it right.

First, the survey link was wrong.
Then the survey itself was incomplete; missing the classes they needed to review.
Then the correct survey was created… but I forgot to include the link in the email entirely.

With each correction, my inbox chimed again. And with each chime, my frustration with myself grew.

How did I mess up something so simple?

On the surface, it was a small administrative mistake. But internally, it felt bigger; much bigger.

I was embarrassed. Frustrated. And far harder on myself than I would ever be on anyone else.

For most of my career, I worked in environments where precision mattered deeply. Details weren’t just preferences; they were safeguards. In legal and compliance-driven roles, accuracy protected reputations, finances, and people. Mistakes carried weight, and rightfully so.

That history shaped me, training my attention to detail, strengthening my discipline, and sharpening my leadership. But it also wired something deeper: the belief that mistakes meant trust was at risk.

So when this error happened, my reaction wasn’t just about a missed link. It was about identity. Credibility. Responsibility.

After the final email went out, the one that was actually correct, I stepped away from my computer.

Not to avoid accountability.
But to reset.

I chose to pause rather than spiral. To regulate my nervous system before attempting anything else. I stepped onto my yoga mat, slowed my breathing, and gave myself space to calm my mind.

When I returned to my inbox later, there was a response waiting from one of the attendees.

It simply said, “Thanks for being human.”

Those four words reframed everything.

They reminded me that leadership isn’t about never making mistakes. It’s about how we respond when we do. How quickly we course-correct. How honestly we communicate. And how much grace we allow ourselves in the process.

Grace doesn’t lower standards.
Grace sustains people.

In leadership, we often think accountability and grace are opposites. They aren’t. True leadership holds both. It acknowledges the mistake, corrects it, and then moves forward without self-punishment.

That moment didn’t just change how I felt about that email. It changed how I think about leadership moments like it.

It reminded me that people aren’t looking for perfection. They’re looking for presence. Integrity. Humility. A willingness to own missteps and keep going.

It also reminded me how rarely we extend ourselves the same grace we offer others.

Most of us can think of a small mistake that felt far heavier than it should have. A missed detail. A forgotten follow-up. A moment where we replayed the situation far longer than anyone else did.

So before you move on from this, I’ll leave you with a gentle question to consider:

Where might you be withholding grace from yourself when you need it most?

Mistakes don’t disqualify leaders. They humanize us. And when met with honesty and care, they often strengthen trust rather than erode it.

If this reflection resonates with you, I share weekly insights like this in my Better Than Yesterday newsletter—conversations about leadership, growth, and learning to show up with intention in every season.

Grace matters more than polish. And sometimes, being human is exactly what leadership requires.