Prior to joining Project Upland, I was the editor of a manufacturing magazine, and as part of that job I traveled all over visiting manufacturing facilities, interviewing CEOs and workers, and attending conferences to learn about the latest technologies. While most of the places I toured were interesting, few struck a chord with me on a personal level. That was until a little over a year ago I heard a talk by Reshma Saujani, best-selling author of Brave, Not Perfect, at a Chicago conference. She spoke of the societal pressure on girls to reach for perfection, and not just the beauty standards of photo- shopped women on the covers of magazines. But perfection in their everyday interactions. Boys are often encouraged to be brave, to climb to the top of the jungle gym, while girls are told to be careful. She cited a report that revealed men will apply for a job when they meet just 60 percent of the qualifications, however women will apply only when they meet 100 percent of the qualifications. Can’t fail if you don’t try.
This is a concept I had never thought of but I saw reflections of this in my own life. Not wanting to go outside of my comfort zone unless I knew I was going to succeed. Seemingly endless writer’s block while searching for that perfect opening line. No matter how much time I’ve spent working on a story, there’s always something to improve. This unknown quest for perfection in and of itself has made me question and possibly miss out on major moves, personal or business related, due to being too “risky.”
The pressure is not always intended. I can’t think of a specific incidence where I was told that I needed to be perfect, that I should be cautious, or to only take risks that were a sure thing. But something about American culture and society has created that little voice inside my head that reaches for perfection. (This probably ac- counts for all those sleepless nights over missed typos!) Listening to Saujani it got me to thinking about a lot of things. Is this quest for perfection what makes me anxious to handle my dogs during training, test- ing, hunting, or any other scenario where someone might be watching? The dog breaks on the shot, chases dive-bombing swallows during their Natural Ability track, or any one of the millions of ways a dog can humble you happens, and it’s like a punch to the gut. I know the dog is capable, I know I’m capable, but things didn’t go perfectly so you begin to feel defeated. The thought flitters by that maybe it’s best to stay on the sidelines rather than risk the “embarrassment” of a failure in the field. Can’t fail if you don’t try.
When, at the age of 30, I signed up for a hunter’s safety course, my husband smirked at me as I spent hours on the computer researching regulations, shot placements, and gun terminology. Anything I thought might get brought up during the class. If I got called on, I wanted to be prepared, perfect.
Then came bird dogs. Nothing challenges your quest for perfection quite like own- ing and training a bird dog. We all know dogs humble us, and things don’t always go to plan. Going down this path as an adult onset hunter has forced me to become braver than I once was, willing to make mistakes in order to learn from them, ask questions about things I don’t know about in order to grasp concepts and become better. Can’t grow if you don’t try, even if trying means you might fail. The important thing is to pick yourself up and give it another chance.
I’m still learning, and will probably be learning for quite some time. Learning to hunt, learning to train, learning it’s OK to not be perfect. I’m going to try and at times I’m going to fail, but that’s all part of the journey.
