The power of silence

Years ago, a friend of mine committed a professional blunder. There was a printing mistake in a piece of collateral involving the corridors of power. The mistake was such that it rendered the whole project useless. Worse, some of the printed material had been distributed. Which meant that along with wasted money, we were now dealing with a reputational blemish. 

Since the stakes were high, the matter escalated in no time. The department head was summoned to task. A fearless and frank professional, this person was widely respected for her sharp acumen and transparent dealings. And as is the case with calmly confident people like her, she was a perceived threat to several insecure co-workers. The latter, therefore, jumped at this opportunity to magnify this mistake and make it bigger than it was. 

The news was as much a shock to her as it was to the stakeholders. She had, of course, signed the final bill and given the final go-ahead. She had assigned the work to one of her reliable colleagues and intervened only for check-ins. She never proofread documents; she maintained that it wasn't her job if a process of checks and counterchecks was already in place. Besides, if she got into execution, she wouldn't be able to handle the volume of business she did on a daily basis. Her detractors, however, used this chance to show her down for her off-handed approach.  

As she prepared to leave for the top office, she called a quick meeting with my friend. My friend, by then, was soaked in apology and fearful of consequences. She, however, was calm, focusing only on what had transpired. Process, timelines, and cost. With that information, she went and took the flak on behalf of the team. She returned and resumed business as usual. No shouting, no lecture, and absolutely no reference to the mistake in question.  

That incident made me time travel to one of those days in my early schooling years, which I will never forget. It was a spelling test, and I was so scared to fail that I hid cheating notes under my desk. I was all of 7 or so. One of my classmates reported that to my teacher, who was shocked beyond words (I used to be a most adored and sincere student). A note was sent to my father, who was equally shaken. Even after three decades of this event, I remember how dark those few days were for me. Filled with the terror of rejection, the guilt of wrongdoing, and the abject shame of community. I didn't even know if getting a second chance would be possible. I remember my father coming to school the next day. Him having a conversation with my teacher, and returning home and never raising that subject with me, or any of my family members even once. 

My father trusted me to be an overall good child. My boss trusted my friend to be an overall good employee. We were humans, and we both erred. And our guardians, at that point in time, chose silence over reproach.  

In hindsight, I'm sure that if any of these guardians had done anything differently, the event wouldn't have had the same impact on me (or my friend). If at all, it would have eroded some learning from the lesson. Their silence and self-control were gifts that are saved as one of my most precious core memories. And I hope to pass this gift on to others.