This week has been my week for making mistakes. Every once in a while, I go through a time in which every time I turn around, I discover I have made another mistake. It�s nice to have attained an age at which I know I won�t die of embarrassment. I�ve discovered something ironic too. The less upset I show at the mistake, the less people seem to notice or care that I�ve made it.

When I was younger, these times used to throw me. Now, the first thing I check is whether the mistake is fixable. If it is, I usually just fix it and move on. I then try to figure out why it happened and fix that too if possible. If prevention is not possible, I just shrug and move on. I�m amazed how often mistakes can be fixed if I don�t waste my time spinning my wheels or let my embarrassment cause me to wait too long to deal with the problem.

Along the way, I�ve also learned a few things about apologies. There really is an art to apologies. Timing matters. The longer I wait to apologize, the worse my tone will be. The crankier the recipient will be as well. Volume and frequency matter too. Quick, direct, one-time apologies get me farther than loud, repetitive ones every time. I try never to beg with my apologies and to give my explanation of my actions very briefly if I give it at all. Begging seems to trigger that part of people that just can�t help hunting down creatures that run in fear. Explanations tend to sound either whining or making excuses. Neither approach brings out the best in the recipient.

Mr. Philately and I have been telling the kids for years that the first rule for getting out of a hole is to stop digging. I spent years digging as though you can hide a hole in a hole. Something in a stubborn personality just can�t help continuing to dig. But, as Mr. Philately is fond of pointing out, doing something the same way and expecting different results is irrational. Now I just start looking for a ladder and, if that doesn�t work, using toe-holds, and finally, if that doesn�t work calling for help and hoping someone hear me before I die of dehydration or starvation down there.

I�m well aware that there are some mistakes that are hard to recover from. That�s hard not to know in my line of work. I�ve sat across from drug addicts, teenage killers, and others who have made terrible mistakes. I spend a lot of my time at work trying to salvage what little can be salvaged after big, disastrous mistakes. Still, with most of them, I recognize that their size built. One mistake leads to another.

I just hope that I can convince my own kids to recognize and deal with those smaller, more fixable mistakes. If I can lead by example, perhaps I�m half-way there.

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